#l i t e r a l l y the only shot of shady

[thatsmylog]

[castiel-writerofthelord-blog]

Disobedience

Chapter 2: Why?

Characters: Castiel, Dean (just barely), Reader

Word Count: 2,517

Warnings: Mentions of angelic torture

A/N: Honestly it’s gonna kill me to write it physically from wattpad and then transfer the slightly edited version to here.. But I do it because I love you! Just know this is a longer one from the first part, and there’s gonna be even longer ones than this coming up in the next little while. It makes me want to suffer.

Summary: You weren’t sure how long it’s been since you collapsed unconscious in that clearing with Castiel grabbing at your shirt, but now you were in another crappy motel, Dean didn’t trust you as far as you were aware.. and now you have to answer a few questions from the Angel of the Lord himself. Great, shouldn’t hurt at all.

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** M A S T E R L I S T**

There you sat, back in your apartment while your favourite show was playing on your tv, resting in a tank top and sleep shorts which your legs up on the coffee table. This was where you went during your sleep, a reminder of what you should still have but don’t, not anymore.

Before you knew it of course, Castiel stood in front of you, and between you and the tv. “You.” He spoke, firm and low as you simply sighed and turned off the tv, struggling to get the remote to where the tv would register around the angel. “Do you really want to do this now, Castiel? You come into my head to interrogate me? Is that it?”

“How do you know?” He took a quick step around the table to grab you by your tanktop and lift you up, almost lifting the shirt above your breasts. You flinched and it aggravated you, to be afraid of this angel; you grabbed his wrist to push him away but your face softened instead and your eyes looked sad and pained, how did you end up in this? Castiel could see this pain and set you down gently before he sat on the table in front of you. “How do you know?” He repeated, softer this time while he watched you plop back on the couch.

“Because I’m an... Abomination. I know many things, all at the sacrifice of other angels, all at the sacrifice I wasn’t willing to make, but was forced to.” You were angry with yourself more than anything, you were an abomination, something so close to a forbidden creature it was unfair. You spoke and a crack came through as you mentioned the sacrifice you had to make, it’s been nearly six months and it still pains you to think about. 

“But you are an angel.” He spoke matter of factly, as if he knew everything.

“Look again, Feathers.” For a moment your tone turned to sarcasm with a small tilt of your head that seemed to mirror the same one Castiel had, but his was out of confusion as he stared through you.

“Nephilim.” He spat the word at you and shot up. You sighed and shook your head again, arms folded across your chest.

“Wrong again, Castiel. You wouldn’t get it and I’d show you, but obviously I can’t show you a nightmare within a dream. Maybe another time, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time together, Blue, trust me.” You knew you’d be stuck with Castiel and Dean, at least until you get Sam out of the Cage.

The angel growled low in his throat which sent a surge of heat through your body and setting a pit into your stomach. He angled your face until he could stare into your eyes again. “I recognize you, but I do not. Why?”

You didn’t respond.

He repeated his question again, louder than the last time. You merely shook your head with a sad smile on your lips, starting to wake up.

You groaned as you blinked a few times, everything coming into focus and quite bright with shades of yellow and green. Great, you thought, another crappy motel. Of course.

Dean stood over you as Castiel came back to reality, eyes opened wide, surprised almost that you could kick him out as easily as you did. You tried to sit up to rub your head which ached like a hangover migraine, but you were strapped to the cheap motel bed with iron handcuffs, Enochian etched hastily into the metal work. “Cas! Did you find anything?”

“No, Dean. She says she is no nephilim but... She has a soul, and grace.” His brow furrowed, confused as if that is his main state of mind. Dean’s eyebrows rose and gave a huff through his nose as an attempted laugh. “A nephilim? You mean like- like-”

“A human and an angel offspring.” You chimed in with a small laugh of your own, though it pained you. Your being felt too full most likely from Michael’s grace you consumed... When? “What Castiel says is true. I do have a human soul, and I do have grace, but I am no nephilim.” You were almost speaking to yourself at this point, your attention off up on the ceiling, only being forced out of your reflection as Dean grabbed the front of your shirt, pulling you and himself to meet half way until his nose was against yours. “Why?”

He pulled you up against your restraints, your shoulders cracked and sent a shooting pain through your spine. The pain forced your breath to stop in your lungs as you grit your teeth; you weren’t about to break when it took two angels in heaven to break you last time. “Why did you help us? Who upstairs sent you?” Dean was about to pull up again, another inch and your shoulders would be out of place. Castiel had placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder, his silent way to tell Dean to stop it seemed since Dean let up and tossed you back against the mattress, the relief sent tears to your eyes. “I will find out more now that she is awake.” The older Winchester jerked his body out from under the angel’s hand. 

“Other angels haven’t exactly been kind to us, Cas. I will kill her if she’s even slightly shady or dark side.” The Winchester spoke coldly before leaving the motel room, slamming the door behind him.

Castiel unlocked the cuffs at your wrists with a sigh, his breath on your ear as he undid the last one. “You could have gotten out of these. Only full angels are stuck.”

“Yes I know, and I also know if I did Dean would’ve killed me on the spot.” He sat on the bed next to you allowing you to finally sit up, his arms rested on his legs and he slouched forward to hand you a rag to wipe the sweat from your brow. “Now tell me what you meant in your dream.”

You have a huff through your nose like Dean had done and tossed the rag off to the side without it being used. “I would, Castiel, but right now I’m far too weak. Or so supercharged I’m fatigued.”

“You told me-”

“I told you I would, yes I get that! Did it ever occur to you an abomination rebuilt not only a vessel but an angel’s grace too? Something, up until whenever that was, angels thought only God himself could do?!” you shouted at him, your own brow furrowed into the center, your jaw clenched and pain shot through your body while your stomach twisted and churned making you want to vomit. The angel in front of you gave a sigh followed by a nod while simultaneously reaching forward, his index and middle finger extended outward to touch you on the forehead. A small buzz of electricity ran through your body from the touch like in the clearing, your queasiness subsided and your soul settled with the grace in your body almost instantly.

You still felt bloated, but easily not as bad, and your pain had faded. You mumbled a thank you as you looked away, eyes to the floor and your fingers entwined with themselves - a nervous habit you had. “You are welcome, y/n.”

“I never told you my name.”

“I gathered that information while I was inside your dreamstate.” He spoke, almost monotone in his vessel’s voice. “So tell me why, now.”

Another sigh escaped your lips while you took his hands; the electricity returned to your body, heating your core up to your face as you stared into his deep blue eyes. Flashes of a white room, you strapped to a table, Zachariah and Naomi on either side of you. Another flash - this time of an angel getting his throat cut and grace being shoved into your mouth. Castiel had felt the pain of something foriegn enter your - at the time - very human body. Screams were heard through the still flashes and pain erupted through the angel’s body making him twitch and squirm. Both his and your back ached at the shoulder blades, a human tear fell down your cheek when you dropped his hands from yours.

The two of you sat for quite awhile in silence to give the angel a chance to process it all, refusing to look at him the entire time; every now and again tilting your head to the ceiling to blink tears away. “how many angels?” Castiel had finally asked, almost in a whisper.

“What?”

He repeated the question, slower this time, trying not to become enraged; whether or not that was at you you certainly didn’t want to find out. You knew what he meant nonetheless, but you still through on how you would answer him, your gaze back at the ceiling to blink away another set of tears wanting to fall. “I lost count after it got into the hundreds...” Again you both sat silently.

Several more minutes passed, you just wanted his questions to be over and done with so you could pull Sam from the Cage, he couldn’t wait longer than he already did or you might not be able to heal him. Dean still wasn’t back so Castiel broke the unnerving silence again. “What was that pain I felt, near my wings?”

That was the hardest to talk about even now; it hurt the most and was a form of torture you wouldn’t wish on anyone. It’s almost like you couldn’t breathe while you thought about what you were going to say. You needed to be as soft about it as possible, for your own sake. Finally, “I grew wings.” You let out a hard breath escape your lungs as if you barely realized it yourself. The angel opened his mouth to say something but you had started talking again, this time like you were thinking out loud. “It was horrible, after so many graces either not taking or didn’t take enough I finally had just enough for wings. I cried and screamed until nothing came out, writhing in the Enochian crafted leather restraints in that fucking chair.” He closed his mouth and let his head hang low as he hummed in agreement to his own thoughts.

You took a deep breath, he wanted to know so you’d tell him, everything. “they did it to make me-”

“The perfect mercenary of Heaven. Angels only turn to sacrificing so many of their own to turn a human angelic with the intent of brainwashing and using.” He kept himself calm, or monotone, again; his head lifted to meet your gaze. “So why are you here?”

Any sense of calmness you felt quickly left, your y/e/c eyes was nearly entranced in his deep pools of blue. They showed hurt, sadness, confusion; all things angels shouldn’t be able to feel. A lump in your throat formed making it hard to swallow; your mouth opened to speak, but quickly closed it. “Why. Are. You. Here, y/n?!” He stood and his voice rose with him making you flinch.

“I was sent to kill you, Castiel.” Despite your flinch your gaze never elft his, even so you could see the angel blade he kept fall into his hand, ready to fight if it came to it. “I said no.” You wanted to quickly defuse the situation lest you find yourself in the Empty, or wherever creatures like you went. “I was going to, so many times I could’ve, but every time you did good by those boys I ‘lost sight’ of the mission. I seen your grace in that clearing, it ached from hurt of seeing the humans in your charge have so much misfortune.”

Your eyes stared hard into his, the grip he held on the blade loosened. You told him about what you did to Lucifer and then Michael, how Naomi had told you she’d throw you in the pit if you failed. The more you talked the more your voice cracked, tears in your eyes, a mixture of human and angelic, your shoulder blades where your wings unfurled to rest on the bed in defeat ached.

Castiel saw your wings for the first time and stared, mouth ajar. “They are smaller than average, and I can see feathers from many a good angel in my garrison.” He spoke with hurt in his voice, for the first time since you woke up. “But they suit you.” He finished, slower than the rest of his words. He completely dropped his blade and knelt in front of you; his hands placed slowly on your face - cupping it to make you look at him. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

With a small sob you almost nuzzled into his hands. “I don’t know, why didn’t I Castiel?”

He took his phone from one of his pockets and stared at it for a second, one of his hands lingered on your cheek. Castiel rose to his feet as he pressed a button and held the phone to his ear. “Dean. Yes. Yes I-... I’m fine, Dean.” He took to the other side of the motel room, leaving you to want the touch of the angel again. “Dean, I am a strong angel of the garrison. I am fine.” You overheard him say with a hint of annoyance to his voice as you looked down at your hands, your cheeks feeling hot while the thought rush through your head before you could stop it. But he is the cutest angel in the garrison.

He seemed to have heard your thought since he glanced in your direction with a slightly raised eyebrow before turning to finish his phone call with Dean; which mostly consisted of hums of agreement with a yes or no following suit. With Castiel distracted you grabbed the pen and pad of paper that sat on the nightstand beside the bed you sat on and began writing.

The sound of wings fluttering drug the angel out of his call as he turned to look where you were and you were gone, only replaced with the pad of paper in your spot. “Damnit. Dean I’ll... Call you back.” And before Dean could protest he ended the call and rushed to the small notepad.

Dear Castiel,

I am sorry to leave like this, but I need to. You might have already started to trust me, but Dean clearly hasn’t and he’ll need time and me doing this doesn’t help anything. I’ll make him trust me. Keep him busy, just for a little if you really do trust me. My number’s at the bottom, keep me in mind and give me a buzz to let me know you aren’t mad or want to kill me.

The message seemed to end there, but Castiel’s eyes went to the bottom of the page where one last line was written along with your number, a little heart next to it as a sign of your own good will.

I’m getting Sam.