Chapter Text
Dean should had known something was wrong.
Ketch's presence never meant something good.
And finding the man all alone in the bunker had been enough to raise red flags.
Because it was clear that the british had wanted something more than care at all about the maintenance of the bunker's machinery.
So the second he had left the second Dean had taken it to search the bunker for hidden cameras/mics or hex bags. Oddities in general because who the hell knew what those brits had under their sleeve.
And that's how he spent his time alone while he waited for Sam and Cas to come back from the store. Checking the place and turning his and Sam's room upside down. With Cas' room he took his time to be extra meticulous.
Both so as to not make a mess of the angel's room and because Dean did not trust that psychopath of Ketch near Cas. He had seen the looks the brit gave to the angel since the moment he met him and to be honest it was one of the few things that managed to unnerve him.
He didn't found oddities but he still had that knot in his stomach that Ketch had done something.
And Dean couldn't for the life of him find out what was it.
He should had searched harder.
~
Castiel wasn't sure what had happened. One moment he was picking the books he had read last night so as to put them back in their place and next thing he knows he is kneeling on the floor clutching his chest with a strangled shout that got the lights flickering above him.
But just like that the pain was gone leaving nothing but whispers of heat across his grace and vessel's joints.
For a moment he laid there on the ground frowning and focusing his entire attention on both his entire form and his room.
Nothing was amiss.
Not a single thing was out of place.
It made no sense.
Still.
He tried to ignore it as he pushed himself up. Picking up the books he had dropped on the floor and taking them back to their rightful place. The bunker was so silent at night it sometimes made him feel as if he was all alone in the world.
As he walks back to his room with another pile of books he felt his vision zoom out for a moment which almost got him stumbling and dropping the books.
That wouldn't be good.
Dean would hunt him if he dared to wake him.
Shaking his head seemed to do the trick and as he got to his room and placed the books down a wave of nausea hit him which made no sense at all.
Something was off.
That fact was proven the second Castiel felt a shiver run down his spine which was followed right after by an odd pressure flaring up on his back. Making him stumble and grab onto the edge of the desk for balance. He tried to breathe through the feeling but rather than lessen it grew. A pressure so strong it made him choke on a gasp as it sent ripples of needles through his wings right from the base to the last tip of his feathers.
And then the pressure switch to pain.
A searing pain that got him biting down on his lip so as to muffle the pained shout that threatened to crawl out. His arms shook as he moaned in pain. Knuckles growing white as splinters of wood fell on the carpet due the strength bestowed upon the desk. But the pain kept growing.
Sweat began trickling down his forehead as he kept on taking shuddering breaths in hopes to compose himself.
But he failed.
Because the pain was now reflecting on his chest which did nothing at all to aid to his breathing. A pressure so tight it felt as if there was a fist crushing his chest from the inside out. His vision zoomed out and his grace flared up. He couldn't focus. His breathing was starting to fail. He couldn't focus. What was happening?
His left wing snapped out when another stab of rattling pain seized his back, sending a wave of air across the room as it did so. The action making his vision flash white as a whiplash of pain jolted across the entire bone. Leaving his wings limp on the ground shaking the same as his sboulders had begun doing. Because it hurt . And he couldn't understand what was happening. He couldn't understand what was wrong.
He felt something drip down his chin but he paid it no mind as he sucked in a sharp breath. Coughing as the action made his throat burn. Something was wrong here. He wasn't sure what it was but something was wrong. So so wrong.
Heat began spreading across his chest and entire ribcage. Enclosing his lungs and chest into a sphere of pure agony that sent him to the ground.
The world went black.
~
Castiel woke up feeling worse than he had before losing consciousness. Limb sore and wings aching. His head was pounding and he could feel tremors wrecking through his entire frame. And as he sat up he couldn't help but grit his teeth with monumental force as blaring torture seized his shoulderblades into pure fire.
Getting up was worse than sitting up for the moment he did so the entire room spun so hard he hit his hip with the desk and almost stumbled back onto the floor. Wings so numb he couldn't for the life of him find his center of focus on how balance even worked.
It took him more than he was willing to admit to get his mind back into focus and connect his senses back to the vessel.
He could feel his hair sticking to his forehead and his shirt to his chest. He felt hotter than he had ever felt despite the fact that he couldn't stop shaking. Something was so wrong and he couldn't see what. His grace felt fine . This wasn't suppose to be happening. He couldn't understand.
His fingers felt sluggish and there were two doorknobs were he was sure had been one. The handle felt cold beneath his fingers and as he twisted it he didn't even had to remind himself to be careful for he felt weaker than he had felt even as a human.
Finding the mirror wasn't hard.
Processing the sight he was met with was.
His vessel's skin was paler than he remembered which in return made the dark circles under his eyes stand out more than healthily acceptable and there was a dried trail of blood running down his chin from where he had bit his lip.
He tried to heal it but found himself unable to do so.
And the more he stared at himself in the mirror the more he noticed the oddities. His grace was swirling around the blue of his vessel's eyes and there were white veins running from his temple to his neck like webs of light.
Off.
Wrong.
That shouldn't be possible.
His grace's paths shouldn't materialize like that in his vessel.
It made panic flood deep within his core. Because that shouldn't be happening. What even was happening? The web ran down his neck and he found himself shedding his trench coat off along with his suit jacket and his shirt.
The breath caught in his throat and the light above him flickered.
His grace's paths were visible .
Running all across his chest and torso. Spreading through his arms and down to his wrists and hands.
And as he turned around and looked over his shoulder the world stopped.
He knew what this was.
And as if his mind had been waiting for that realization fire seized his entire frame with the force of a cosmic explosion.
The pain was so sudden and unexpected he fell on his knees with a silent scream that was followed right after by his true voice. Back arching out of reflex as his wings were crushed under the pressure of what he now knew to be some sort of spell.
The floor is moving. The walls are moving. Zooming in and out with such force he can't balance it. He can't process his surroundings. He can't process a single thing at all. He can't bring himself to even remember how his voice was used. To move. The pain in his back is so intense he can't feel his wings which does nothing at all for his growing panic. His head hurt. His chest hurt. His throat hurt. Everything hurt.
And when he felt the hand on his shoulder he swatted it with all the strenght he could muster before attempting to get up but with his wings lifeless he did as well as a newborn foal.
The arms that caught him were strong and wrong and dangerous and this was wrong so so terribly wrong and all his mind was screaming was the word danger because he was in danger and he was not safe and that shouldn't be that shouldn't be.
Someone had made him manifest his grace's paths and his wings were being profaned with traces of magic and no matter how much he struggled he couldn't break free and his vessel wouldn't do as told and his legs wouldn't move as legs should and he couldn't break free . Someone was talking someone was talking but he couldn't understand he couldn't listen because someone wanted to cut his grace someone was attempting to bring his wings out someone was threatening his entire being like no one had ever done and he couldn't do a single thing to stop it.
And in his last desperate attempt to escape the situation he tried to leave the vessel.
But then a hand covered his mouth and there were arms holding his against his chest and he could no longer kick his legs or escape and he couldn't breathe he couldn't feel his wings he couldn't hear he couldn't see he couldn't move he couldn't leave . It was too much too much too much it was too damn much.
And at the end he lost.
Because his grace wouldn't answer to him and his wings were nowhere to be felt.
He was gonna die.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
~
There was something about waking up to a nightmarish metallic pitch that threatened to shatter bones and rattle the world to ashes that gave the Winchesters a new perspective about angels' true voices.
But the brothers had had their fair share of angels' true voices to realize that something was horribly wrong.
Because this was not an angel speaking.
This was a scream.
A scream that explode lightbulbs into a millions pieces that rained upon the floor like a waterfall of glimmering diamonds. A pitch so loud that no matter how much the hunters covered their ears it still felt like a knife was tearing their eardrums apart and carving their skulls with a hot red needle.
And right when the brothers thought that their skulls would explode the sound stopped.
It took a moment for them to pull themselves together and for the ringing to stop but that didn't stop Dean from bolting out of the bed.
Because there was one single angel in this bunker and over a thousands scenarios were crashing inside his head on what could be wrong. When he slammed the door open he was met with the light of a flashlight and Sam looking as panicked as Dean felt. Blood trailing down his ears. Mom at his side looking no better at all but holding her gun like a woman with a mission.
And the three Winchesters ran towards room number 15.
Castiel's door was locked and Dean picked the lock faster than ever in his life.
The hunters bursted into the room with guns raised but there was nothing at all. Not even signs of struggle. Cas was nowhere to be seen but there was a labored breathing coming from the bathroom. Door slightly ajar.
-Cas?- Called Dean as he approached the door of the bathroom as cautious as ever despite the fact that his heart was pounding in his chest and the ringing was still in his ears.
But as he pushed the door open he was met with an even more haunting sight.
Cas was on the ground shirtless and shaking like a leaf. Two horrible bruises adorning his shoulderblades as hundreds of white lines trailed across his skin. Thin and glowing like webs of light.
His breathing was coming out in short gasps and his skin looked too pale for comfort.
-Oh God.- Mary's voice was what snapped the brothers out of their initial shock. Dean putting his gun away as he quickly stepped into the room and kneeled infront of the angel.
-Cas, hey, buddy what's-
Dean didn't even got to finish the question because the second he touched the angel the second Cas flinched and swatted his hand with such force Dean felt it in his soul. Cas who scrambled up but managed to stand with the same grace of Bambi.
Sam was the one who prevented the angel from meeting the ground. His skin felt too hot for comfort and he could swear on his life the lines were buzzing.
-Cas, Cas hey take it easy. It's us it's okay. You are okay. I've got you.- Tried to assure Sam but that didn't seem to work at all for the angel began struggling to break free. Legs buckling as he did so which forced Sam to kneel in order to keep a good hold on the frantic angel.
-Cas stop. It's us Sam and Dean Winchester. You are safe. Stop fighting. You are okay.- Told Dean as the angel kept struggling as if his life depended on it. Seeing his face wasn't comforting at all for his gaze was glazed and unfocused and filled with such a drowning panic and terror it managed to frighten Dean .
Cas was in his own world of pure panic to a point where it was painful to watch him and Sam ended up holding his arms against his chest as the air seemed to be obliterated with a persistent ringing.
And right when things couldn't get worse it happened.
Light began leaking out from the angel's mouth, eyes and nose.
Dean did what he had to do.
He smacked his hand down against Castiel's mouth and forced himself to swallow past the lump in his throat as the action got the angel kicking his legs out and growing even more aggressive.
-No. Cas no. You can't leave, whatever is happening this is not the answer. You are not allowed to leave. Stop. It's okay. You are okay. Just please stop .- Plead the hunter.
And it didn't take long before Cas stopped struggling and passed out.
Dean had never felt as awful as he felt in that moment.
Dean helped Sam get Castiel on the bed. Putting him on his side so as to avoid putting pressure on his back.
-Mom can you bring a bowl with water and a cloth? Maybe some ice packs?- Asked Dean as Sam left to get the first aid kit from his bedroom.
-Yes. Of course.- Mom sounded as lost as Dean felt right now. Because what the hell was that? The lines on Cas' skin were now glowing a blueish shade and it looked almost like flowing energy. The bruises on his back rather than bruises looked like...
Like Lucifer's first vessel.
But that made no sense at all wasn't Castiel's vessel suppose to be the right one? It wasn't suppose to fail and if so how come it started doing so now after so many years?
And then it slapped him.
Ketch.
That son of a bitch.
Dean should had known. He should had known. Since the second that bastard walked in on their lives Dean had known he shouldn't leave Cas alone with him. The looks the brit gave to the angel along with the fact that not even once had Ketch called him for his name were big red flags.
And now this.
-I got it.- Said Sam as he stepped back into the room with the first aid kit.
-It was Ketch.
-What?
-He was here earlier and I looked all over the place but I found nothing but now Cas is like this. It was him that son of a bitch did something.- Said Dean with a knot in his throat.
He should have searched better.
Searched.
Fuck.
~
Moving Castiel out of his room in case Ketch had done something to his room hadn't worked at all.
He was still out.
Those lines were still there.
Dean had put ice packs on the bruises of his back and a damp cloth on his forehead to lower the heat he seemed to be exuding from each pore of his being.
Nothing similar to what was happening to him could be found in the books so far and for once Dean cursed that he hadn't ever bothered to ask Cas more about angels that wasn't how to get rid of them.
Still Sam and Dean kept researching the Men Of Letters books in case this was some kind of sickness rather than Ketch's doing. Because if that was the case neither of them felt like alerting the asshole that Cas was weak. Who the hell knows what those bastards would do if it reached their ears the fact that there was an ailing angel up for grabs.
Meanwhile Mary took it to keep an eye on Castiel.
She hadn't known Castiel for long and still before she could even realize it she had grown to see him as one of her own boys.
At first she had had her doubts about him considering he wasn't human but she wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was an angel or the fact that he had been there for Sam and Dean when she wasn't but she had grown to trust him.
There had been something about him that had pulled at her heartstrings, the way he spoke about Sam and Dean. There was a sense of loneliness in him that had crushed her heart.
Celestial being or not to her he had looked like nothing but a lost boy seeking desperately for a place to belong.
The idea that Ketch was responsible for this made her blood boil. Because this wasn't something she could simply ignore. Castiel hadn't done anything for the British Men Of Letters to attack him. This was completely uncalled for.
A pained moan brought her out of her thoughts. Castiel's brow was furrowed and the cloth had slipped off his forehead. The glowing lines had spread to his cheeks now and there were a few more on his back that there had been earlier.
She got up from her chair in order to replace the now warm cloth. Dipping it in the water before squeezing the excess of water back into the bowl and placing it back on his forehead. She pressed the back of her hand against his cheek but found that the warmness hadn't decreased at all. The lines buzzed against her skin.
If the situation wasn't so alarming she would had found it fascinating to see such web of glowing trails spread all across his skin like a beautiful river of blueish light.
Despite all her thumb ran across one of the lines across his cheek.
She regretted doing so the second a hand shot up and hit her arm so hard it felt like a crowbar had smashed into her bone. She stepped back with a surprised shout at the unexpected strength.
The angel scrambled out of the bed and backed off until his back hit a corner of the room. Eyes blazing blue and gaze completely unfocused.
He was terrified she realized.
-Castiel?
He spat something in a language she couldn't recognize before seeming to shrink even more against the wall. She made sure to keep her hands in his line of vision as she kneeled on the floor infront of him.
-It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you.
He spoke again in that same odd language but she didn't need to be a genius to understand he was accusing her of something.
And then the door slammed open with Sam and Dean making their apparition which in return got Castiel flinching and muttering something before a strong wave of wind knocked the hunters off their feets.
-What the hell?- Breathed out Dean as he pushed himself up.
-Mom are you okay?- Asked Sam alarmed when he noticed his mother holding her forearm with a grimace. There was a huge bruise forming on it already.
-I'm fine. It wasn't his fault.- Told Mary glancing at the angel who was now staring at them with a glare colder than the Arctic. He was pressed against the wall and half curled but he still managed to look as intimidating as an angel could be.
And still the fear was almost coming off in waves out of him.
-Cas? Hey. What's wrong?- Asked Sam as he approached Cas with the same care as one would approach a scared animal. Hands raised as he kneeled infront of the tense angel. Castiel flinched and pressed himself agaisnt the wall even more and despite his face speaking of imminent murder if provoked Sam could see it.
Terror.
Confusion.
Anger.
Pain.
Betrayal.
Denial.
Panic.
All of that hid behind a wall of fragile ice.
The answer to his question was Cas giving him an even more intense glare that told Sam he should do well to remember he was dealing with an angel and a being as old as time who was for some reason terrified of them.
-Cas. You do remember who I am right? This place.
-Sam Winchester. The bunker.- His voice was sharp as steel but it lacked some of its familiar roughness and instead held a background ringing to it.
-You know what's happening?- Asks Sam then hoping that the angel would give them answers in how to proceed. If to go hunt Ketch down or hunt some kind of spell down.
But the next words Castiel spoke froze the entire room.
-You want to break me?
The fact that he said those words looking at them almost in a desperate attempt to not find truth in his own words shattered their hearts into a million pieces.
-No. No. Whatever that is no. We are not the ones doing this. Whatever this is it's not us. We would never hurt you.- Assured Sam almost a bit frantic at the idea of Cas thinking this was their fault.
That at least got the angel's shoulders relaxing and the glare to disappear but he was still cowering in the corner.
-Ketch was here earlier when I arrived. He must have done something. I searched all over the place but I couldn't find anything.- Told Dean needing to clarify things as quick as possible. Still his blood had begun boiling.
Because this was Ketch's doing.
-I'm sorry... I didn't meant to do that.- Castiel was staring at Mary's bruised arm.
-It's fine. I'm fine. Don't worry about it.
Castiel wanted to offer healing but the idea of using his grace sent a pulse of pain across his entire frame that blasted across his wings and made him groan. He could feel it.
His wings were beginning to pierce the veil.
And that did nothing but make panic flare up again and he ended up flinching and smacking the hand that grew too close which resulted in Sam giving him an apologetic look despite the fact that the hunter was rubbing at his hand with a grimace.
-Cas what is happening? Is it a curse? A spell? How do we stop it?- Asked Dean not liking one bit this situation.
-I... Don't know. I mean. I know what is happening but I don't know what is doing it nor how to stop it. I don't- I didn't even knew humans were capable of doing something like this.- Those words for some reason felt like whatever was happening was some kind of taboo for a human to do against an angel.
-What is it doing? Is it dangerous?- Questioned Mary, she knew better than anyone the kind of equipment the British Men Of Letters owned and she feared what could they have in store to use against angels.
-It won't kill me and it will stop hurting once it finishes exposing what it wants to expose.- Mutters Castiel staring at his hand and watching between horrified and mortified how more paths became visible across his vessel's hand and fingers.- I think they want to turn me human permanently. It's the only logical option I can come up with.
Those words weren't comforting at all.
If all.
It sent the brothers on panic mode.
-Human? How? You still have your grace and even so we could get it back and kill them in the process.- Told Dean to which he got a distressed look in return.
-They won't need to take my grace to turn me human.
-What?
Was there another way for an angel to become human without taking their grace? That didn't make sense.
Castiel for his side avoided their gaze not feeling comfortable at all with the situation.
But right now he had little to none options.
The Winchesters were his only hope in case the British Men Of Letters came after him and they would need to know what to look out for.
So forcing himself to loosen his tense position against the wall he showed his arms. Repressing back the urge to lash out and run off when Sam reached out. His instincts were blaring in his head and core to not allow himself to be approached. Touched. It was wrong. Dangerous. Taboo.
But he trusted them.
-Are these important?- Asks Sam with his voice as gentle as possible as his fingers hover over the lines. Not touching but marveling at the sight despite all. Glowing lines of blueish light that spread like vines and were still spreading. Leaking a soft hum within them. Warmth. Power .
-These lines are the paths that allow my grace to travel through me.
The second he said those words the second Sam retreated his hand.
Still Castiel didn't move his arms out of reach.
Instead he brought his gaze up to stare at them.
-All angels have them. If you cut them off our true form would collapse and reshape itself into something similar to a soul. Once the paths are severed our grace will fade and we would no longer be able to wield grace ours or foreign within us without risking a torturous death in the process.
Castiel can sometimes still hear the screams of the one angel who ever went through something so horrid.
All because she had killed another angel to protect her Nephilim child and human partner.
Her punishment had been ensued at the hands of Azrael himself.
Forbidden actions required forbidden punishments someone had said.
-If the vessel still wields a soul the soul that comes out of our true form will obliterate it and take its place. If that happens our wings would most likely break the vessel due humans not being created to withstand wings. But if Ketch wants to turn me human I believe cutting my wings off is also on his list.
If Castiel's words hadn't been horrifying before those last ones surely were.
No wonder Cas had been so skittish and aggressive if something like that was possible. Turning an angel human sounded wrong but doing so using that kind of method sounded a lot of levels of wrong.
But the fact that Ketch could even be thinking about cutting an angel's wings off sounded like the kind of thing that would get God tearing him to shreds and snapping him back to life to shred him once again before scattering his remains across the universe while set on hellfire.
Because that shit sounded wrong in a cosmic level.
That was something Sam nor Dean would ever think about doing not even against Lucifer himself.
-You sure we can't stop it?
Castiel was about to answer when he felt the ethereal plane grow thinner around his wings. The action itself making him flap his wings out of reflex which just sent flaming ripples of pain across the bones that got him curling in on himself with a muffled shout that mixed his true voice and Jimmy's.
Someone was talking but the pain wouldn't stop. It burnt against his feathers and made his grace sizzle. The ethereal plane was crushing his lungs and threatening to tear his wings apart and his ears wouldn't stop ringing. His connection with the vessel was rattled and he needed to keep the grip the grip the grip but his wings were gonna burst. Burst into flames burst into a shower of bones and feathers burst burst burst it wouldn't stop.
And then it twisted and the feathers bristled as an electric shock rattled his entire true form with the might of an archangel's lightning.
The pressure burst out.
He screamed.
Fingers pulling at his hair as searing pain slashed across his wings with unforgiving heat. His true voice escaped and broke vocal cords in its wake but he didn't care for the agonizing heat was unleashed like a river of fire across his back and wings as the ethereal plane shoved his wings out.
The pressure was released with a snap and Castiel collapsed.
He was drooling on the floor. He was aware of that. Or was it blood? He couldn't be sure. He didn't care. The silence and absence of pain left him so exhausted for a moment he didn't care at all where was he or what happened.
Still.
He was aware of it.
His wings had materialized.
~
-You sure we can't stop it?- Asked Dean.
Castiel had seemed as if he was about to answer with another negative before he flinched and another wave of air hit the room but this time it wasn't strong enough to send them to the ground.
The angel acquired a pained look and curled in on himself with a muffled shout that carried a dangerous pitch in it that ended up shattering the lightbulb from the lamp Sam had changed earlier.
-Cas? Hey, it's okay. It's okay.- Tried to sooth Sam but that didn't seem to do a thing for Cas kept moaning in pain and whimpering. Fingers grabbing his hair as be became an even tighter ball.
And then the angel's breath hitched and so did the ringing.
Sam knew that sign.
-Cover your ears and get out!- Shouted Sam and he barely had time to jump back and follow his brother and mother out of the room and cover his ears before the earsplitting metallic pitch pierced the air like a hot knife intended to carve out eardrums. The few lightbulbs that had survived earlier bursting into a rain of glimmering shards of glass.
That was it.
Dean was gonna carve Ketch's heart out and feed it to the werewolves and then he was gonna set fire to the British Men Of Letters headquarters.
Because no one fucked with his family and got away with it.
And right when the ringing threatened to tear the bunker apart it snapped shut.
Mary was the one who first recovered and opened the door.
The second she did so the second the breath caught in her throat.
-Oh God.
-Son of a bitch.
There was an angel on the floor.
An angel.
Winged angel.
Wings.
Real wings.
Cas had wings.
Wings .
For the first time in a long time Sam and Dean were reminded of the crude truth of what Castiel was.
An angel.
An angel.
With a set of massive wings with feathers so black it felt like staring at the void. Rather than fluffed or soft looking each feather wielded a skin crawling sharpness and frizz to them and if looked in the right angle it seemed almost as if the feathers were made out of metal.
The sight was as unnerving as it was breathtaking.
Sam was the one who mustered the courage to step into the room and approach the trembling angel on the floor. The sight of the wings connecting to his shoulderblades made his hairs stand on end but he willed himself to ignore it as he kneeled infront of Cas.
-Cas? Hey.- He touched one of the angel's shoulders which made the feathers bristle leaving to sight that those were without a doubt meant to be used as weapons.
But it didn't last long before a pained moan was heard and Cas began moving. Wings twitching with each action. Sam helped him into a sitting position while making sure to not touch his wings.
As Castiel sat up his wings sagged at his sides and Sam noticed there was blood trailing down his chin. He also looked a bit pale.
-You alright?- Asked Sam to which he got a short nod before Cas lifted his hand and touched his neck. The lines across his skin seemed to lit up and leak light for a moment before it switched back off.
-I'm fine.- His voice came out cracked and rather than Castiel it reminded the brothers of Jimmy's own tone of voice.
-Does it still hurt?
-No.- Muttered Castiel glancing at his wings for a moment. Now that he thought about it he had never seen them like this which despite the situation part of him found it as interesting as it was nauseating.
Because like this he could no longer fake ignorance.
His wings were proof of how far he had fallen.
Black and charred with hellfire stench.
He couldn't even re-grow new ones due the fact that he had been in Hell too many times.
Still.
He didn't regret it.
None of those trips to Hell had been in vain and he would do all of them over again if he had to.
~
Changing lightbulbs and calling Ketch to scream at him had been how the Winchesters had spent the next few hours.
Finding out that the British Men Of Letters didn't want Cas but that it had all been a test for one of their new spells against angels had set on stone for the Winchesters that next time Ketch showed his face he wouldn't get to walk away unharmed or even 100% alive.
But at least the knowledge that no one would barge through the door to take Cas had soothed some of their nerves. Mick had then called to tell them that the spell was meant to work for at most 24 hours once completed.
Cas had taken it to sit at the map table with a book and while in the dim light none of them had been able to see with new lightbulbs bathing the bunker in bright light the sight had struck them.
Castiel's wings were without a doubt a heartbreaking sight. Because while some feathers looked charred others were missing or broken. Some others bent or pointing in all the wrong directions. Scars littered across the bones some from cuts others from burns.
And while Mary had been changing another lightbulb behind the angel she had seen it.
Two scars right below the base of his wings and another two above. Perfect slashes that held an almost agonizing air to them. For some reason it made her chest constrict and her throat close.
-Cas. What are those scars on your back for?- Dean was the one who asked after his mother had told them about the scars. Sam threw him a bitch face and Castiel seemed to grow tense at it for a moment. Feathers bristling.
Meanwhile Castiel could feel the breath stuck in his throat and the words from the book suddenly too difficult to understand.
Because Dean's question was not suppose to be voiced. No one should ask. Even Lucifer hadn't asked about the scars on his true form and had made a point to avoid looking at them. No angel would ever ask about those scars.
And still.
Those scars were visible too?
Of course they were. Why wouldn't they?
He could still remember the greatest pain he had ever felt in his long long life.
A pain so great he had wished for death. Begged and screamed for it until he no longer could get his voice out. A agonizing torture it had felt as if he would grow insane and go on a killing spree if that meant others would get to suffer as much as he was. Maddening and unbearable and so unforgivable.
Even now if he remembered it existed he could still feel the phantom pain buzzing like a never-ending heat across each scar. It made him nauseous.
He didn't like those memories and no angel would ever ask another angel about that kind of scars because while rare it wasn't unheard of.
And still.
For some reason.
He found himself speaking the truth rather than the "Shut up Dean" that was for once burning to get out.
-I am a Seraph. Seraphim are one of two kind of angels who have more than two wings. Cherubim have four. Seraphim have six.
The implications of Castiel's words felt like a cosmic slap that broke over a thousand laws of the universe and branded people's souls with a VIP pass to get tortured by God Himself in the darkest corner of somewhere worse than Hell.
Dean felt sick. Sam felt sick. Mary felt sick.
And Castiel?
Castiel was staring at them with a blank look.
And while part of Dean was screaming at him to drop the subject he still asked. Because he needed to know if he had to slaughter someone in the worse way possible this world has ever seen.
-Who was it? Was it one of those feathered pricks? Because if so-
-No.- Cut off Castiel and there was something about his voice that hurt something deep within the hunters.- Angels would never do this. Not even to Lucifer himself... Our wings are connected to our grace and Heaven itself in ways the human mind would never be able to comprehend.
-Then who-
-It were humans.
The breath was punched out of their bodies and while Dean grew pale and cold Sam felt nauseous and a wave of dizziness hit him. Mary's hand went to her mouth in silent horror and she felt her throat close up.
-You don't have to concern yourself with it. It was centuries ago and I made sure to kill each one of them. Tore each soul out and shredded them into nothing but atoms. Scattering their remains across the universe so neither of them would ever be able to know what peace feels like. No Hell. No Heaven. Just eternal pain and agony. I wanted their pain to feel as close to mine as I could.
Castiel's voice was more venomous and alien than a demons and still neither of the hunters found it wrong. Not even the murderous look plastered on his face.
Because whoever had the nerve to do that to an angel deserved no merciful death and no peaceful afterlife.
-Even so I doubt their torture was close to mine. For me the pain was constant and it felt like it would never stop and even after it healed it wouldn't stop hurting. Those wings weren't meant for flight and still it took me years to manage to fly again. One of the Rit Zien even offered to kill me and while part of me had wanted to agree if that meant the pain would stop I couldn't do it.
Not when Balthazar had been fighting so hard to keep him sane and alive.
-Even now if I focus on it I can still feel the pain despite the fact that it was 2,000 years ago.
He still remembered their faces and with their faces he also remembered their screams when he tore their souls out. The pain. The feeling of being torn apart from the inside out and flayed to the while also being mutilated at the same time and bathed in holy fire and so much more worse.
Meanwhile all the Winchesters could do was stare.
And stare.
Because what was one suppose to say to that? The idea that people could ever begin to think about cutting an angel's wings off at all sounded like such a transgression against the universe itself that it made them as humans feel filth crawling under their skin.
It made them want to time travel and tear apart whoever the fuck dared to touch a single feather on their angel. Because if the angels saw that as something that not even Lucifer deserved or the fact that no angel has ever used that against Cas despite their hatred towards him made it feel a billion times worse. Sacrilegious .
To be honest it was almost amazing how the angel didn't become resentful against humans.
Still willing to trust humans around himself while in such vulnerable state. Having chose humans over Heaven and fighting on their side to keep on protecting them.
It felt so underserved to have him on their side after what was done to him.
And even more so it was almost overwhelming the weight of trust he put on them.
-Cas.
-Can we not keep speaking about this? Please?- Asked Castiel. His voice was soft and he looked almost sad as he said that.
-Of course. I'm sorry, that was insensitive.
-It's fine. I just... I just like to forget about it. It's better that way.
It was better that way because if he forgot then that meant it didn't happen.
He wouldn't feel twice as less of an angel than he had spent feeling since he first fell.