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An abomination, Castiel was an Abomination. Disgraced and Cast out all for a Human. But he was much more than that
To Castiel, of course he was. He dared to see him in another light than what he was instructed to do, than what he was told to do. He loved being an Angel, but then again how he truly have known if he ever did if he didn’t know love before him? Before Dean Winchester. Since coming into his life Castiel craved love, he desperately tried to latch onto it. The warm feeling that spread across his chest was intoxicating. His senses were over run, those senses that had been drilled into him since the very start of creation. Simply didn’t exist anymore. Only love did. That would be his downfall. Love. Love for the one person he knew he shouldn’t have fallen for. Dean was pure and uncontrollable love. And Castiel wanted it, but he knew he couldn’t have it. Dean was out of his reach. He was an angel, a being of cosmic energy and Dean..Dean was Flesh.Hunger burnt through the angel. He’d never felt hunger before. Besides when they were dealing with Famine. This hunger was different. It burned and it hurt and it could never be satisfied. The more he ignored it the more it spread till it bubbled over and he was left with this empty, gaping wound that
Couldn’t be fixed. Not by anything. His hunger would kill him, along with his love. That would be how the Angel of Thursday died. Hungry and Bursting with love that could never be reciprocated.He was contempt with this ending, in some ways it made him feel human. He would die for the sake of keeping Dean Winchester alive and safe. He would not subject himself to a life, an eternal life, without the Pure bright soul that was Dean.And Dean beneath his mask, the mask he saw straight through, there was more than flesh. There was beauty, kindness and perfection, because despite what Dean saw himself as. He was still beautiful, still Perfect. Still Dean Winchester. The righteous man, the man that would be his downfall.Hate was all Castiel knew, he built his world on it. Hate for lucifer, hate for God, Hate for humans. How could they be Gods Favourite when they were so destructive, so cruel. Hate imprisoned him, it taught him how to think, how to see, how to breathe. He thought he’d die with the amount of hate in his veins. But then something happened.Dean happened.He taught him how to love, love humanity and that was priceless. He was priceless.He was lost, the very touch of Dean corrupted. Yet he was happy to be corrupted if it meant he could love Dean. But he was beginning to hate him, he wanted to tell him how much he hated him since he began to live. The torment was tolerable, he could live with this. He had lived with worse before Dean and he will after Dean.Although, there could be no after him. No, there couldn’t be.There was so much conflict, so many times Castiel had thought about taking a blade to carve out his hunger, to carve out this feeling. He wanted to carve and carve until he bled and bled and this gaping wound would be all he felt. He wanted to bleed because pain would be better than what he was feeling. He wanted to feel whole again. Perhaps maybe to feel nothing at all, like he used to. God would be disgusted, disappointed, he was no angel. Angels weren’t supposed to fall in love. That was reserved for Humans. For flesh.Love was an abomination to an Angel. Yet Castiel desperately again wanted it, he wanted to drown in love, bask in its warmth. Dean loved with his whole heart, he gave love but never seemed to accept it for himself.
He was made waiting, waiting for orders, waiting to be told what to do. Why was he waiting so much? He was accustomed to it by now. He’d die waiting. Waiting for him. He could live with that.He’d watch, watch from a distance. Invisible to Dean, like he’d always would be. Watch as he went on a hunt, watch as he slip more and more out of his grasp. Slipping through his fingers like sand and no matter how hard he’d try to hold onto it, it would just keep pouring and falling. In some ways this feeling was like sand, it was course and rough. Yet it was irritating and got
Everywhere. And if by some miraculous out come it was proven that he should feel this, allow himself to feel more, to want more
Then he did. This was no gift, this was a burden. A curse, a curse that he would carry with pride.