Castiel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
toomuchheart) wrote2011-04-24 08:46 pm
toomuchheart) wrote2011-04-24 08:46 pm
wants to be alone } { I will sing to my God who delivers me from death
[Set in that verse beause … it’s probably the only one where it would actually work. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cantstopourlove and god_ihopeso are mine to use and abuse, and the needzmoarpie mentioned is not with permission, but lots of love. Set a few years down the line.]
There are few holy days that Castiel considers to be of any importance anymore.
When he first fell, he would attend every service regularly, as though fruitlessly trying to regain the closeness to the power of Heaven that he had had, once upon a time, but as the years pass he becomes more and more disillusioned, and he pulls away. As the years pass, he also resorts to drugs and alcohol more and more, and loses track of time, but he prefers to think of his failure to attend as a protest more than a simple reminder of the fact that he is human, and cannot withstand the kind of assault that he puts on his body. Castiel, in fact, prefers not to be reminded that he’s human. It only makes him want to disengage more. But there is one ceremony he never misses, one ceremony he holds in highest regard above all else, and that he will even stay sober for during the twenty-four hours prior. It’s one of the hardest things he does, but it’s necessary. And it’s worth it.
However, when his means of transportation to that ceremony is interrupted, it does not leave Castiel in a very … pleased state.
Truth be told, he likes House. The man is honest, blatantly so, and has access to levels of hallucinogens that Castiel would never be able to get to otherwise. Dean didn’t like him, called him an ass and an enabler, but Castiel didn’t really care at this point. He’s fairly certain that House wants to see how much his superhuman metabolism can take, and to that end, Castiel is more than willing to buy in to his experiments. However, he also knows that House has little respect for religion of any kind, so he knows that if he wants to get where he wants to go, he needs to be firm on the subject. With Dean on a hunt, and Hadley getting called into work, Castiel has one option left. Which is why he’s standing in House’s office, clean shaven and in a suit, looking like the unhappy former angel of the Lord that he is.
“You need to give me a ride.”
House looks up at the statement, eyes narrowing. “I don’t need to give you a ride. You need me to give you a ride. There’s a difference.”
Castiel straightened a bit, trying to regain some of the angelic stature that he had left behind, and look as intimidating as he wanted to be. “I need to be somewhere. You called my ride into work, and left me stranded with no means of transportation. Therefore, you need to correct that.”
House continues to stare at him for a moment, but Castiel holds his ground. He knows that if he stands firm on this, House’s curiosity will get the better of him, and he’ll cave, but he just had to wait for the right moment. He holds his ground, stares him down, and eventually the man reaches for his keys. “Alright. Where are we going?”
“I’ll give you directions.” He’s careful to leave the actual location out of it until they arrive, pulling in front of the dark church with a sigh. “Thank you. I will be about three hours.”
“I don’t think they’re open,” House comments, looking over the empty windows. “You might be out of luck.”
“I can manage. I will see you at eleven.”
He closes the car door and makes his way into the church, not bothering to listen for the hum of the motor pulling away. The second he steps inside the door, the frustration of the evening is forgotten, and he just settles into the quiet of the church, the darkness giving him an anonymity that he appreciates more than anyone would ever know. He picks up the long thin white candle from the basket by the door and moves inside, finding a pew in the back and taking a seat. There aren’t many people there, but there’s enough to make Castiel feel like he’s not as alone as he was previously.
He kneels, sinking into a moment of prayer when he hears the pew creak next to him, before a soft voice speaks up.
“I didn’t take you as the religious type.”
His head picks up from his hand, but he doesn’t open his eyes as he exhales hard. “There is a lot you don’t know about me.” There’s a pause as he shifts back into his seat, leaning towards House’s shoulder. He keeps his voice low, as to not disturb the still darkness of the church for the people around them. “I know that you give little regard for faith of any kind, but if you are going to stay, then I would appreciate if you didn’t mock this.”
House looks at him for a moment, before nodding. Castiel doesn’t know what he’s after, why he’s listening to all this beyond mere curiosity, but he’s grateful for the reprieve. He straightens away from the man next to him, and tries to regain the calm he’d had previously.
“You’re going to need a candle.”
The man next to him holds up a similar candle and smirks. “Don’t worry. I’m practically a Boy Scout.”
Castiel can’t fight the smirk that crosses his face, and he nods, before sinking back into the pew and just soaking in the silence again.
The beauty of the Easter Vigil, for Castiel, is that he feels that these are the people who truly have faith. It’s the night before Easter, and the service is incredibly long, but they come anyway, and sit in a dark church, waiting for the arrival of a Savior that they have never even met. Castiel remembers the first Easter, and not even the apostles at the time had shown this much longing for their Savior to arrive. Granted, they hadn’t known what they were waiting for, but the idea that one day, decades from now, people would have realized how much the Winchester family had given for their world, for them to survive, and participate in ceremonies such as this in their name to celebrate the sacrifices they had made, makes him smile. He knows that Dean wouldn’t appreciate it. He’s human, he doesn’t see far beyond his sixty years of living, and the fact that he’s had to make those sacrifices. Dean hasn’t asked to be worshiped as a savior of anyone. But Castiel can see the long term of the impact his decisions have made, and he knows that to someone, some day, this will mean something. And it will mean much more than he can ever comprehend.
As the ceremony begins, and the light of the Easter candle processes into the church, the candles throughout the church start to light, spreading to glow on the faces of every person there. They aren’t people of importance, really—people who go about their day to day lives carrying this sense of faith with them, but together, collected in this place, they boost the power of the things they believe, like a lightening rod straight up into the sky. They have no idea how much power they hold, and that’s what makes them so powerful. They’re feeble yet strong, discordant yet beautiful, and so amazingly human that Castiel can’t bring himself to let go of this last vestige of faith for himself. This is what he fell to save. And as far as he’s concerned, if he must be one of them, he wants to be one of them.
Three hours, nine readings and three baptisms later, House and Castiel are exiting the church, and Castiel is already loosening his tie. Three hours a year of quiet communion with the faithful was not enough to displace the remaining eight thousand, seven hundred fifty-seven where he only felt lost and abandoned by the people he used to consider his family. He takes a breath, exhaling hard, before turning back to the man next to him.
“Thank you, for your respect.”
House gives a brief nod as he hobbles ahead of them to the car. “You owe me for that. Trust me—I’ll collect eventually.”
Castiel shakes his head as he reaches the passenger’s seat. “Of course. My mistake for thinking I could get away scot free.”
House moves around the front of the car to the driver’s side, feeling smug in that he’s gotten Castiel to concede that much. Once they’re both in the car, he pauses. He doesn’t reach forward to put the keys in the ignition, he just waits. Castiel just waits with him, his thoughts still caught in their own orbits, and when the man finally speaks again, the words are simple and pointed.
“You’re different.”
It takes Castiel a moment to realize he’s being addressed, and when he finally turns to face him, he’s confused. “I’m different how?”
“When we were listening to the readings. The rest of those religious idiots in there—they just believe those things happened, or rather that it was some hand of God that saved them. You were different. You were behaving as if you knew.”
Castiel shifts to face him, wondering if he even gives away that much with his behavior. He has never been well-versed in the nuances of human behavior, but House watches people compulsively, like it’s an obsession he can’t shake. He stares at him for a moment, before shrugging.
“What’s your point?”
“Ever since your boyfriend started banging my fellow, things have been … weird around here. Preternatural weird.”
“You don’t believe in the preternatural,” Castiel states evenly staring at him.
“I don’t because it’s never been proven to me.” Castiel will concede his point there. House needs proof to believe what he does believe in, and while Castiel is sure that Dean would more than be able to prove that something existed beyond what science could prove, but he also knows that Dean doesn’t have the patience to do so. So they just let House continue to play the guessing game as to what is or isn’t out there. “But this makes me think that there might be more to you than just some out of work druggie who hates himself.”
Castiel frowns as he considers that for a moment, contemplating what to tell him. He could just come clean, be honest and see if the man would either believe him or laugh in his face—or he could bait the man’s curiosity and see where it lead him. The latter is a slightly malicious thought, and vaguely self-serving, but in the end, he deems it entirely appropriate for the person that he’s dealing with. He smirks, turns back to him, and the dare in the statement is inherent in his eyes.
“Prove it.”
1799 words
cantstopourlove and god_ihopeso are mine to use and abuse, and the needzmoarpie mentioned is not with permission, but lots of love. Set a few years down the line.]There are few holy days that Castiel considers to be of any importance anymore.
When he first fell, he would attend every service regularly, as though fruitlessly trying to regain the closeness to the power of Heaven that he had had, once upon a time, but as the years pass he becomes more and more disillusioned, and he pulls away. As the years pass, he also resorts to drugs and alcohol more and more, and loses track of time, but he prefers to think of his failure to attend as a protest more than a simple reminder of the fact that he is human, and cannot withstand the kind of assault that he puts on his body. Castiel, in fact, prefers not to be reminded that he’s human. It only makes him want to disengage more. But there is one ceremony he never misses, one ceremony he holds in highest regard above all else, and that he will even stay sober for during the twenty-four hours prior. It’s one of the hardest things he does, but it’s necessary. And it’s worth it.
However, when his means of transportation to that ceremony is interrupted, it does not leave Castiel in a very … pleased state.
Truth be told, he likes House. The man is honest, blatantly so, and has access to levels of hallucinogens that Castiel would never be able to get to otherwise. Dean didn’t like him, called him an ass and an enabler, but Castiel didn’t really care at this point. He’s fairly certain that House wants to see how much his superhuman metabolism can take, and to that end, Castiel is more than willing to buy in to his experiments. However, he also knows that House has little respect for religion of any kind, so he knows that if he wants to get where he wants to go, he needs to be firm on the subject. With Dean on a hunt, and Hadley getting called into work, Castiel has one option left. Which is why he’s standing in House’s office, clean shaven and in a suit, looking like the unhappy former angel of the Lord that he is.
“You need to give me a ride.”
House looks up at the statement, eyes narrowing. “I don’t need to give you a ride. You need me to give you a ride. There’s a difference.”
Castiel straightened a bit, trying to regain some of the angelic stature that he had left behind, and look as intimidating as he wanted to be. “I need to be somewhere. You called my ride into work, and left me stranded with no means of transportation. Therefore, you need to correct that.”
House continues to stare at him for a moment, but Castiel holds his ground. He knows that if he stands firm on this, House’s curiosity will get the better of him, and he’ll cave, but he just had to wait for the right moment. He holds his ground, stares him down, and eventually the man reaches for his keys. “Alright. Where are we going?”
“I’ll give you directions.” He’s careful to leave the actual location out of it until they arrive, pulling in front of the dark church with a sigh. “Thank you. I will be about three hours.”
“I don’t think they’re open,” House comments, looking over the empty windows. “You might be out of luck.”
“I can manage. I will see you at eleven.”
He closes the car door and makes his way into the church, not bothering to listen for the hum of the motor pulling away. The second he steps inside the door, the frustration of the evening is forgotten, and he just settles into the quiet of the church, the darkness giving him an anonymity that he appreciates more than anyone would ever know. He picks up the long thin white candle from the basket by the door and moves inside, finding a pew in the back and taking a seat. There aren’t many people there, but there’s enough to make Castiel feel like he’s not as alone as he was previously.
He kneels, sinking into a moment of prayer when he hears the pew creak next to him, before a soft voice speaks up.
“I didn’t take you as the religious type.”
His head picks up from his hand, but he doesn’t open his eyes as he exhales hard. “There is a lot you don’t know about me.” There’s a pause as he shifts back into his seat, leaning towards House’s shoulder. He keeps his voice low, as to not disturb the still darkness of the church for the people around them. “I know that you give little regard for faith of any kind, but if you are going to stay, then I would appreciate if you didn’t mock this.”
House looks at him for a moment, before nodding. Castiel doesn’t know what he’s after, why he’s listening to all this beyond mere curiosity, but he’s grateful for the reprieve. He straightens away from the man next to him, and tries to regain the calm he’d had previously.
“You’re going to need a candle.”
The man next to him holds up a similar candle and smirks. “Don’t worry. I’m practically a Boy Scout.”
Castiel can’t fight the smirk that crosses his face, and he nods, before sinking back into the pew and just soaking in the silence again.
The beauty of the Easter Vigil, for Castiel, is that he feels that these are the people who truly have faith. It’s the night before Easter, and the service is incredibly long, but they come anyway, and sit in a dark church, waiting for the arrival of a Savior that they have never even met. Castiel remembers the first Easter, and not even the apostles at the time had shown this much longing for their Savior to arrive. Granted, they hadn’t known what they were waiting for, but the idea that one day, decades from now, people would have realized how much the Winchester family had given for their world, for them to survive, and participate in ceremonies such as this in their name to celebrate the sacrifices they had made, makes him smile. He knows that Dean wouldn’t appreciate it. He’s human, he doesn’t see far beyond his sixty years of living, and the fact that he’s had to make those sacrifices. Dean hasn’t asked to be worshiped as a savior of anyone. But Castiel can see the long term of the impact his decisions have made, and he knows that to someone, some day, this will mean something. And it will mean much more than he can ever comprehend.
As the ceremony begins, and the light of the Easter candle processes into the church, the candles throughout the church start to light, spreading to glow on the faces of every person there. They aren’t people of importance, really—people who go about their day to day lives carrying this sense of faith with them, but together, collected in this place, they boost the power of the things they believe, like a lightening rod straight up into the sky. They have no idea how much power they hold, and that’s what makes them so powerful. They’re feeble yet strong, discordant yet beautiful, and so amazingly human that Castiel can’t bring himself to let go of this last vestige of faith for himself. This is what he fell to save. And as far as he’s concerned, if he must be one of them, he wants to be one of them.
Three hours, nine readings and three baptisms later, House and Castiel are exiting the church, and Castiel is already loosening his tie. Three hours a year of quiet communion with the faithful was not enough to displace the remaining eight thousand, seven hundred fifty-seven where he only felt lost and abandoned by the people he used to consider his family. He takes a breath, exhaling hard, before turning back to the man next to him.
“Thank you, for your respect.”
House gives a brief nod as he hobbles ahead of them to the car. “You owe me for that. Trust me—I’ll collect eventually.”
Castiel shakes his head as he reaches the passenger’s seat. “Of course. My mistake for thinking I could get away scot free.”
House moves around the front of the car to the driver’s side, feeling smug in that he’s gotten Castiel to concede that much. Once they’re both in the car, he pauses. He doesn’t reach forward to put the keys in the ignition, he just waits. Castiel just waits with him, his thoughts still caught in their own orbits, and when the man finally speaks again, the words are simple and pointed.
“You’re different.”
It takes Castiel a moment to realize he’s being addressed, and when he finally turns to face him, he’s confused. “I’m different how?”
“When we were listening to the readings. The rest of those religious idiots in there—they just believe those things happened, or rather that it was some hand of God that saved them. You were different. You were behaving as if you knew.”
Castiel shifts to face him, wondering if he even gives away that much with his behavior. He has never been well-versed in the nuances of human behavior, but House watches people compulsively, like it’s an obsession he can’t shake. He stares at him for a moment, before shrugging.
“What’s your point?”
“Ever since your boyfriend started banging my fellow, things have been … weird around here. Preternatural weird.”
“You don’t believe in the preternatural,” Castiel states evenly staring at him.
“I don’t because it’s never been proven to me.” Castiel will concede his point there. House needs proof to believe what he does believe in, and while Castiel is sure that Dean would more than be able to prove that something existed beyond what science could prove, but he also knows that Dean doesn’t have the patience to do so. So they just let House continue to play the guessing game as to what is or isn’t out there. “But this makes me think that there might be more to you than just some out of work druggie who hates himself.”
Castiel frowns as he considers that for a moment, contemplating what to tell him. He could just come clean, be honest and see if the man would either believe him or laugh in his face—or he could bait the man’s curiosity and see where it lead him. The latter is a slightly malicious thought, and vaguely self-serving, but in the end, he deems it entirely appropriate for the person that he’s dealing with. He smirks, turns back to him, and the dare in the statement is inherent in his eyes.
“Prove it.”
1799 words