[Supernatural Fic] Practically Human 3/18
Jul. 5th, 2010 07:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
daylight_darknightI've been nitpicking again.
Title: Practically Human 3/18
Characters: Castiel, Bobby, Dean
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and a little violence and disturbing stuff in later chapters
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama
Word Count: ~18,000 in 18 in little chapters
Spoilers: Up to the end of season 5
Summary: Some things are a lot easier to deal with when the world is ending.
AN: This takes place in a slight AU where season 5 ends almost the exact same way except Castiel's powers are never restored and Bobby is still in a wheelchair. While Dean goes off to keep his promise to his brother, Castiel ends up left behind at Bobby's as he tries to adjust to his new life as a human.
Chapter 3
The store smelled of mothballs and detergent. Castiel gazed at a long multicoloured rack of clothes, shifting uncertainly through the shirts. He had tried asking Bobby what would be appropriate for him to wear, but the hunter had been less than helpful. Bobby had told him that even though he was paying for the clothes, he had no intentions of being Castiel’s personal fashion consultant, and was now wheeling his chair through the piles of broken electronics at the other end of the store.
Pulling out a brown, plaid shirt, Castiel studied it thoughtfully. It was similar to the tops Bobby usually wore. That seemed appropriate enough, but it didn’t feel right. Putting the shirt back, the former angel found himself drawn to another rack containing an assorted selection of suits. Perhaps it would be more suitable to wear clothes akin to what Jimmy wore. After all, that was what he was used to.
But he wasn’t Jimmy.
Castiel wandered aimlessly through the store and began picking out clothes at random before locking himself in a change room. He quickly tried each piece on barely glancing at his reflection before moving on to the next one. Clothes that felt right went into one pile. All others were discarded in a second.
In the end, he found himself with three pair of jeans and a dozen or so plain shirts and T-shirts in black, gray or neutral shades of green or blue. At the last minute, he grabbed a dark gray coat as well since his trenchcoat was still stained with blood. He’d have to ask Bobby how to clean it.
Bobby gazed at the heap of clothes in Castiel’s arms, raised an eyebrow then let out a snort. “Just get in line so I can pay. We’re probably going to have to get you a decent pair of boots too.”
Looking down at Jimmy’s leather, dress shoes sticking out from beneath Dean’s old jeans, Castiel wondered what was wrong with them.
After they’d paid and made their way out of the store, Castiel’s eyes were drawn to an old woman who was slowly making her way along the sidewalk, each step supported by an aluminum cane. She appeared to be a typical woman of her age with thinning, white hair, a bony, bent back, and frail, arthritic limbs. Her soul shone with the warm orange light of a lamp that had already been burnt to its fullest.
And there was a reaper following a foot behind her.
As Castiel passed them, the reaper turned, his head moving stiffly like a wooden marionette, and their eyes met, the former angel finding himself gazing into ancient, caverness orbs. He could only match the stare for a moment before he had to look away. The eyes reminded him of old, brittle bones and dusty tombs. He wondered what the reaper had seen, if he’d been able to make out whatever speck of grace that still existed inside of him.
While the reaper continued on once more focused on his appointed task, Castiel felt an involuntary shiver go through his spine suddenly realizing that one day a reaper might come for him too.
******
“A reaper?” Dean said over the phone that night. “And you just left him to go after that little old lady?”
The former angel cast his eyes upwards. It was an automatic reaction he had yet to break. Deliberately, he forced his eyes back down. “What would you have had me do?” he asked Dean.
“Well, you could have warned her for a start.”
“And have her die in fear?” The former angel shook his head even though Dean couldn’t see. “It was her time. She was 84 years old and about to die peacefully of a heart attack in her own living room. Her grandchildren will find her tomorrow morning. They will be saddened for a while but will soon learn to accept it.”
“Um… Cas? How do you know all that stuff?”
“I read her soul,” Castiel replied as if it was obvious.
Dean cleared his throat. “You do know that normal humans can’t read souls, or see reapers for that matter.”
“Yes,” Castiel said though he did sometimes forget that fact.
“Huh.” There was a pause before Dean continued, “Your powers might be drained but you’re not exactly human, are you?”
“I am trying to be,” insisted the former angel.
“Right.”
They were both silent a moment before Dean spoke again.
“Do you know what will happen the next time I die? I mean will I go to heaven or will the angels kick my ass back down to hell after all I’ve done?”
“Technically, you should automatically go to heaven no matter what the angels wish, but once there… With the absence of Michael, it’s likely heaven has been reduced to chaos and anarchy.” Thousands of angels with no prophesy to follow, no leader to tell them what to do, and no God. Chaos was an understatement, but it was no concern of Castiel’s. He wouldn’t be going back. Not even a reaper would be able to take him there.
“Sometimes, I wish there was no afterlife, no heaven, no hell,” Dean said, his gruff voice fading to a whisper. “That it just ended. Sometimes I wish that everything would just end.”
And Castiel found himself unable to disagree.
Chapter 4
Title: Practically Human 3/18
Characters: Castiel, Bobby, Dean
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and a little violence and disturbing stuff in later chapters
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama
Word Count: ~18,000 in 18 in little chapters
Spoilers: Up to the end of season 5
Summary: Some things are a lot easier to deal with when the world is ending.
AN: This takes place in a slight AU where season 5 ends almost the exact same way except Castiel's powers are never restored and Bobby is still in a wheelchair. While Dean goes off to keep his promise to his brother, Castiel ends up left behind at Bobby's as he tries to adjust to his new life as a human.
Chapter 3
The store smelled of mothballs and detergent. Castiel gazed at a long multicoloured rack of clothes, shifting uncertainly through the shirts. He had tried asking Bobby what would be appropriate for him to wear, but the hunter had been less than helpful. Bobby had told him that even though he was paying for the clothes, he had no intentions of being Castiel’s personal fashion consultant, and was now wheeling his chair through the piles of broken electronics at the other end of the store.
Pulling out a brown, plaid shirt, Castiel studied it thoughtfully. It was similar to the tops Bobby usually wore. That seemed appropriate enough, but it didn’t feel right. Putting the shirt back, the former angel found himself drawn to another rack containing an assorted selection of suits. Perhaps it would be more suitable to wear clothes akin to what Jimmy wore. After all, that was what he was used to.
But he wasn’t Jimmy.
Castiel wandered aimlessly through the store and began picking out clothes at random before locking himself in a change room. He quickly tried each piece on barely glancing at his reflection before moving on to the next one. Clothes that felt right went into one pile. All others were discarded in a second.
In the end, he found himself with three pair of jeans and a dozen or so plain shirts and T-shirts in black, gray or neutral shades of green or blue. At the last minute, he grabbed a dark gray coat as well since his trenchcoat was still stained with blood. He’d have to ask Bobby how to clean it.
Bobby gazed at the heap of clothes in Castiel’s arms, raised an eyebrow then let out a snort. “Just get in line so I can pay. We’re probably going to have to get you a decent pair of boots too.”
Looking down at Jimmy’s leather, dress shoes sticking out from beneath Dean’s old jeans, Castiel wondered what was wrong with them.
After they’d paid and made their way out of the store, Castiel’s eyes were drawn to an old woman who was slowly making her way along the sidewalk, each step supported by an aluminum cane. She appeared to be a typical woman of her age with thinning, white hair, a bony, bent back, and frail, arthritic limbs. Her soul shone with the warm orange light of a lamp that had already been burnt to its fullest.
And there was a reaper following a foot behind her.
As Castiel passed them, the reaper turned, his head moving stiffly like a wooden marionette, and their eyes met, the former angel finding himself gazing into ancient, caverness orbs. He could only match the stare for a moment before he had to look away. The eyes reminded him of old, brittle bones and dusty tombs. He wondered what the reaper had seen, if he’d been able to make out whatever speck of grace that still existed inside of him.
While the reaper continued on once more focused on his appointed task, Castiel felt an involuntary shiver go through his spine suddenly realizing that one day a reaper might come for him too.
******
“A reaper?” Dean said over the phone that night. “And you just left him to go after that little old lady?”
The former angel cast his eyes upwards. It was an automatic reaction he had yet to break. Deliberately, he forced his eyes back down. “What would you have had me do?” he asked Dean.
“Well, you could have warned her for a start.”
“And have her die in fear?” The former angel shook his head even though Dean couldn’t see. “It was her time. She was 84 years old and about to die peacefully of a heart attack in her own living room. Her grandchildren will find her tomorrow morning. They will be saddened for a while but will soon learn to accept it.”
“Um… Cas? How do you know all that stuff?”
“I read her soul,” Castiel replied as if it was obvious.
Dean cleared his throat. “You do know that normal humans can’t read souls, or see reapers for that matter.”
“Yes,” Castiel said though he did sometimes forget that fact.
“Huh.” There was a pause before Dean continued, “Your powers might be drained but you’re not exactly human, are you?”
“I am trying to be,” insisted the former angel.
“Right.”
They were both silent a moment before Dean spoke again.
“Do you know what will happen the next time I die? I mean will I go to heaven or will the angels kick my ass back down to hell after all I’ve done?”
“Technically, you should automatically go to heaven no matter what the angels wish, but once there… With the absence of Michael, it’s likely heaven has been reduced to chaos and anarchy.” Thousands of angels with no prophesy to follow, no leader to tell them what to do, and no God. Chaos was an understatement, but it was no concern of Castiel’s. He wouldn’t be going back. Not even a reaper would be able to take him there.
“Sometimes, I wish there was no afterlife, no heaven, no hell,” Dean said, his gruff voice fading to a whisper. “That it just ended. Sometimes I wish that everything would just end.”
And Castiel found himself unable to disagree.
Chapter 4
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Date: 2010-07-06 02:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-06 11:34 pm (UTC)