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[Castiel isn't sure what compels him time and time again to appeal to Dean's reason. The mortal is now so far beneath him, his own bright, righteous soul pale in comparison to the millions that clamor and sift inside of Castiel that nothing he says, does, thinks or feels should matter.

Still. He was a favorite. Castiel knows all, but more than that Castiel knows Dean, and knows that if there is a chance to end things Dean will take it. He despises being controlled but what Dean doesn't understand is that he was always controlled. He was controlled even by his precious free will, risking the damnation of the entire world for its sake. Castiel, in his infinite wisdom and power, is a far better god for Dean than free will is.

Castiel will make the world perfect, safe for humans and angels. He'll right the wrongs his brothers did, fix the messes his Father left and do what Dean could not. He'll save the world and keep it safe, as its Beloved, as its great and powerful Lord.

But Dean must understand. He must.

Castiel appears in Bobby's house, beside the couch on which Dean lay. He stands and waits for him to awaken, much as he did days (eons) ago.]

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Okay, let's get one thing straight here, Cas. I am not your kid. We--we were brothers, you and me. I mean, yeah, not like Sammy and I are brothers, but family. But I ain't your kid.

[He stabs a finger in Castiel's direction for emphasis.]

You're just pissed because you can't find daddy and I get that, Cas. You know I do. It is not right for you to be taking that out on all of us. Not right and you know it, so why, Cas? 'Cause at the rate you're going, we're not gonna have a world left to protect.

[Castiel finally looks up to meet Dean's eyes and allows his full spiritual weight to slip into the room. The air feels heavy, pressure dropping as if just before a violent storm. Thunder rumbles in the distance; rain pit-pats against the windowpanes, clouds gathering with startling speed beneath the previously clear night sky.

Castiel's expression is profoundly sad. The sadness of a thousand lifetimes, the sadness of a million lost souls, wandering and lonely. Castiel wears the sadness like a suit of armor, wields it like a sword.]

There's no reaching you.

You're finally lost to me.

[He stands.]

[Even wilting a little under the pressure of Castiel's spiritual weight, Dean defends himself.]

I'm not lost to you, Cas. I never was. If you'd called, I would have answered in a heartbeat.

[Again, Castiel's face approaches the emotions it once wore; the concern, the confusion, the way his brow furrowed when he tried to understand Dean or the way his eyes widened when Sam asked him if he was all right. It was there, only for a second, and then it was gone.

Castiel reaches for Dean, stepping closer.]

You will come with me. There's something you must see.

[Seeing that flicker of real Cas for just a second hurts more than almost anything.]

No, Cas. I'm sorry, but I can't.

[Dean flicks his lighter open and chucks it at the damp circle on the floor. Please, God, if you exist, let it work.]

[The fire races along the arcs of the circle before joining and flaring up, bright and burning, higher than the flames should physically reach if the fire weren't of supernatural origin.

Castiel sends Dean a pitying look.]

I'm not an angel anymore, Dean. [He lifts a foot and steps easily through the fire, as if it were just a curtain, a veil of sheer cloth. He reaches for Dean again and the second his fingertips brush against the cloth of Dean's jacket they're both standing on a spot of land barely large enough for two people. The rain lashes against them both, sky dark and stormy; on all sides is a sheer drop of over a hundred feet that ends in sharp, jagged rock.

Castiel steps away. He speaks in a normal tone of voice, but is still somehow heard about the squall as the elements silence themselves for him.]

You will reflect on your sins and pray for my forgiveness here, Dean. I will arrive and absolve you when I believe you finally understand.

Edited 2011-11-15 01:05 (UTC)

[That seals it. There is no god.]

Cas--

[Wait--dammit, he hates angel-mojo sometimes. Dean jerks in surprise and nearly pitches himself over the side. That is...a very long drop.]

You're kidding, right?

Edited 2011-11-15 01:58 (UTC)

[There's a god all right, just not the one Dean needs.

Castiel backs away; he's now stepping on air as surely as if it were solid stone.]

I would suggest you kneel, Dean. The gusts will be strong enough to topple those without humility or faith.

[Castiel vanishes and the promised winds begin to scream over Dean's form, tearing at his clothes and flinging drops of icewater rain against his skin like gravel.]

[Holy crap.

Never mind kneeling, the winds are too strong even for that. Dean drops to his knees, clinging to whatever handhold he can find and shielding himself from the rain as best he can which, given he was inside a minute ago and really, really isn't dressed for the weather, isn't very well.

Rather than praying for forgiveness, he's mostly thinking "Dammit, Cas!" and trying to figure out where everything went wrong and how he could have missed the signs.]

[Sam and Bobby are, predictably, freaking the fuck out back at Singer Salvage. Castiel spies on them for a moment before turning away. There's too much to do. He'll convert one Winchester at a time; once Dean has accepted Castiel's rule, Sam will follow. Bobby can be dealt with separately.

It's nearly two hours before Castiel returns to check on Dean, not yet making himself visible. He doubts two hours is enough to do much but the human body is so terribly frail and it's an easy thing to forget what a simple exposure to the elements will do.]

[Two hours has been plenty of time to make Dean angry. And cold. Mostly cold. He can't feel his fingers or his nose, the wind is blowing hard enough to make his eyes water. The cold is turning that to frost on his eyelashes. All in all, Dean's pissed and miserable.]

Come on, Cas, you lousy son of a bitch, you had a heart once, what happened to it?

[Not even remotely what Cas is looking for, but it's about on par with all the other prayers Dean's made over the last few years.]

Edited 2011-11-15 02:22 (UTC)

[Cas appears in front of Dean, spreads his fingers and holds his hand out above his huddled form, palm-down. The rain and wind around Dean stops, though the storm still rages against the surrounding cliffs.

Staring down at Dean, Castiel says nothing.]

[That's nice. He's still cold, though.

After a moment, Dean lifts his head, looking up at Castiel, his eyes filled with anger and no little hurt.]

So, what, is this what you wanted me to see?

[Where there was a flicker of Cas before, now there's only stone-cold, detached indifference and apathy. He tilts his head, the gesture so unlike the one he assumed as Castiel.]

You're mistaken, Dean.

I never had a heart. Not like yours. Not like the one you wanted me to have.

Maybe you didn't start with one, but the Cas I know would never do this. He was too good for it. Maybe cared too much. Definitely cared too much, considering you made that stupid deal with Crowley!

[Dean pushes himself to his feet, wobbling only slightly, and rubs his hands together. He's scared for himself, but he's even more scared for Sam and Bobby and the incredibly idiotic angel/god standing in front of him.]

You grew a damn heart, Cas. Why'd you throw it away?

I threw it away for you. I dealt with Crowley to save this world you loved.

[Cas lowers his hand, but the wind and rain still doesn't touch either Castiel or Dean, leaving them in a bubble of frigid serenity.]

The being you see before you, I became for you. Always for you, Dean Winchester. Everything.

But I see now that my...'heart' was in the wrong place. I shouldn't have pinned my hopes on one single, fallible man. Protecting you, giving everything for you brought me nothing but hardship and agony. Now, I can do what I was created to do; maintain order. I can take up the mantle left behind by an absent Father, one your species curses and calls upon with such frequency that there's never a moment of peace. I will free my brothers of the burden of a concept they cannot understand, and of the responsibility of looking after a world so steeped in darkness it can barely breathe.

I'm stepping into the shoes no one wanted to fill, Dean, and I will restore the peace this world so desperately needs. Judge me for it, if you will, but I am far above your judgment now, Dean.

I didn't want you to, Cas. Not for this. World's broken, Cas, I get that, but it worked. You're just doing the apocalypse all over again.

[Castiel's expression darkens and he reaches out to fist a hand in Dean's shirt. They appear in a dark room; a mimicry of the warehouse where Dean tortured Alastair with no doors, no windows, no vents. The marred devil's trap is still on the floor, Uriel's wings still burnt into the concrete. The rack where Alastair hung still sports chains and blood and the room smells like copper and salt and burning flesh.]

You will be made to understand.

[Well! Isn't this nostalgic?]

Cas. [Dean glances around the room, more careful now. Like he's talking to an angry cat.] Why are we here?

This room means much to you, as it meant much to who I was.

Get on the rack.

Means much to me is kinda stretching things, don't you think?

[No pun intended.]

What are you doing, Cas?

[Castiel snaps his fingers and Dean appears on the rack, chained.

He waves his hand and a second figure appears, identical to Castiel in every way but without that hint of madness and power, without the pressure that comes with millions of monstrous souls simmering inside.

That Castiel turns to the nearby table, which is littered with instruments of torture Dean might find familiar. His favorite arsenal of his final ten years in Hell.]

I have no time for this. I'll leave you to discover the truth for yourself.

[God!Castiel vanishes and leaves Dean with the Castiel apparition.]

You--

[DEAN WOULD LIKE THE TELEPORTING TO STOP, THANKS.]

Wait--Cas! Wait! Dammit, Cas, this is not the way to make me love you!

[It is, however, a pretty good way to make him very, very afraid of Castiel.

Dean struggles against the chains, very stubbornly not looking at the table of tools. He'd rather not remember what any of those felt or looked like.]

Brother, [says the Castiel apparition, his voice heavy with reluctance and rough with exhaustion. His back still to Dean, he selects a knife and tests the edge of it against his thumb.

When he turns to look at Dean it's as if he doesn't quite see him. Eyes meet eyes, but Castiel doesn't register the figure tied to the rack as Dean Winchester, as further evidenced by what he says.]

I don't want to do this. Please, just tell me who broke into the vault and I will leave you in peace.

This is--you're not real.

[It's not real and he knows it's not real because Cas hasn't worn that face in weeks. Also, Castiel's never called him 'brother'. Dean addresses the ceiling instead.]

Okay, Cas! You've had your fun!