thursdays_angel | (no subject)

It is time.

It comes as no surprise to Castiel that Dean has quickly grown impatient, wanting answers. Wanting to understand why he had been brought back from Hell. Answers that Castiel had not been able to give to him in a small patch of decimated forest in Illinois.

Logistics had had to be seen to. A vessel claimed. And, well, Heaven operates on its own timetable.

Dean will learn that soon enough.

Castiel contemplates the barn, standing at the far edge of the empty field. He can feel the faint itch of protective magic, a wise if unnecessary precaution. No demon will trouble this place tonight. It does, however, give him pause from simply appearing within the building. How many times has he been told? It unnerves people to be snuck up upon? A valuable lesson to remember in a time like this, when there is trust to be gained.

So Castiel lets his wings carry him across the field slower than he otherwise might, to the bare patch of dry earth before the doors. He pushes them open and walks inside.

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"And I'm calling bullshit."

He'd do more than just call bullshit, but the knife didn't work, and Dean's fresh out of mystical weapons.

Or banishing spells.

"Why would an angel pull me out of Hell?"

Castiel steps closer.

Dean cannot harm him. And he is reasonably certain that the man is too angry to bolt from fear.

"Good things do happen, Dean."

Castiel has watched the Winchesters. Dean has been the cause of good things. Lives saved.

Why would he think that good could not come to him?

Dean huffs out a sharp breath.

It's not anything close to a laugh.

"Long as your name ain't Winchester, sure."

He's seen it, but from the outside looking in.

Except when Sam --

Never mind.

"Next you're gonna be telling me you've got a bridge you need to offload."

Castiel had prepared himself for difficulty.

He had not quite anticipated this degree of difficulty.

"What is it?"

He would seem to be talking to himself rather than to Dean.

Castiel takes another step closer. And then another.

His eyes are fixed on Dean's as if the answer he is looking for is etched on Dean's retinas.

It isn't. He actually has to look far deeper than that.

Dean flinches.

He manages to keep it from being a physical flinch, but only by the barest skin of his teeth.

"What's what, asshole?"

Weak, Dean.

Weak.

Castiel pays no mind to the insulting posturing.

He is intent on what is behind it.

His eyes widen slightly at what he sees.

"You don't think you deserve to be saved."

Castiel is honestly taken aback. He may even sound so.

Does he think souls get pulled out of Hell by mistake?

Yeah, Dean is not touching that statement with a ten foot pole.

A fucking mile long pole would still be too short.

Time for an end-run around everything.

"Why'd you do it?"

He can't wait to hear this bullshit answer.

This is one question Castiel knows how to answer. With utter and complete certainty. So much so that his voice might almost be pulled up from the bedrock far below.

"Because God commanded it."

"Because we have work for you."

And as his Father commands it, so shall it be.

"Uh huh."

Yeah.

Dean can already tell this one is gonna end badly.

Right now, he almost can't even say he'd mind.

Castiel nods slightly, once.

He still sees doubt in Dean. But there is nothing he can do right now to allieviate it. Better, then, to let him have some time to think about what he has been told.

Besides, Castiel had come here tonight for one very specific purpose. To tell Dean why he is back. And he has done that.

"We will speak again, Dean. Soon."

And with that he is gone.

Now Dean gets to be the one to wake Bobby up and figure out how much to explain.

Great.

Add that to the list of things Castiel's got to answer for.

Edited 2011-01-06 04:19 (UTC)