![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Higher Purpose
Rating/Warning: PG (Language / Adult themes)
Wordcount: 1,043
Fandom: SPN
By:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Category: Castiel/John - pinch-hit for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spn_j2_xmas fic
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
Prompt: John/Castiel, time travel.
“You’ll forget why,” Jeremiel says and there’s a touch of sadness in his tone. “The moment you touch him, you’ll forget why. You’ll think that you were just... ordered to, that there was some higher purpose.”
“There is,” Castiel responds, taking a lungful of air from above because even angels find it hard to breathe underneath. “There’s always a higher purpose.”
*
“We have to stop meeting like this,” John says, lips still touching the rim of his glass. There was no noise, no announcement that someone had settled onto the barstool next to him, but he knows.
He always knows.
“It’s a mistake,” Castiel says, puts a hand on his arm, on his shoulder. It’s a feather-light touch and the hand is gone before John can react to it. When John finally looks at him, Castiel’s making a face. “I’ve done this all wrong. It wasn’t supposed to still be this way.”
“What do you mean by that?” John asks mildly. John puts a hand out, taps Castiel on the knuckles. “If it involved my sons, it was always going to end up this way. Nothing you could have done.”
*
The first night Castiel sees John Winchester, it’s the night his wife dies. John is in the first of what will become thousands of motel rooms. He’s sitting by the door and Dean and Sam are lying on the double bed in the centre of the room, Dean curled around Sam like a bracket.
Castiel has known John Winchester at this point for a long time, but John has not known him, doesn’t know he exists. At this point he doesn’t know anything exists except that motel room, his boys, the empty place in his heart and the acidic burn in his stomach that something happened.
Castiel leaves them be.
*
Castiel looks at John impassively, despite being held up by his throat against a wall. Dean, now eight years old, is sitting outside on a picnic table, holding Sam upside down by his feet, oblivious.
“I’m not a demon,” Castiel says. John’s grip gets tighter, he’s probably aiming to knock Castiel out but Castiel can suspend this body’s functions, doesn’t need the air.
“You’re something,” John growls, and Castiel knows at this point of John’s evolution that this equals Bad to him. He hasn’t discovered shades of grey yet, never really does.
“I’m here to help you, no agenda, no price,” Castiel offers and John scoffs, let’s Castiel go. Castiel stumbles a little when his feet hit the floor for appearances sake. He often finds humans are more comfortable if he appears a little human too. He reads the situation correctly because John automatically puts out a hand, steadies him.
“Who are you?” John demands.
“That’s for later,” Castiel says. “Much later.”
*
Castiel is holding John up against the wall this time. He’d been secretly pleased at the way John’s eyes had widened at his strength.
The boys are in the next room, asleep, always asleep when he comes. It wouldn’t do for Sam and Dean to see him yet.
Might get a little confusing.
John’s babbling. A litany of Ihaven’tIhaven’tIhaven’t. When they’re done, lying in a tangle and Castiel’s rubbing a hand across John’s jaw just for the rasp of the stubble John finishes the thought.
“Not since Mary.”
*
He didn’t come back for this. He came back to make sure that John didn’t make the mistake that leads to everything else.
It’s such a human thing to do, get distracted like this.
He’s finding himself more and more human everyday and he’s worried that he’s not more worried about it.
*
He watches the children sometimes. He finds their interactions fascinating, looks for clues as to how they turn into the adults they do in the way they are around each other at such an early developmental stage. He can see Dean being careful with Sam, reckless with himself.
It does say a lot about their future.
“Should I be worried?” John asks. He’s watching them too, a rare respite at a roadside playground. Sam had pressed himself up against the car window when he’d seen it and John had relented and pulled off. Sam had been mad about having to pull up stakes because he’d liked his teacher and they’d had a field trip to the zoo planned he was missing and it was a nice break from the brooding, or so John had explained. “You’re not really the guardian angel type.”
“I’m a soldier,” Castiel says.
“So we’ve got that in common.”
*
John’s sitting at the bar, he’s always sitting at the bar.
“I don’t know if you could ever really understand,” he says. “That’s my son lying in that hospital bed. Any parent would trade themselves in a heart beat. Just most don’t know that they can.”
“He won’t understand,” Castiel protests. “He won’t want you to do this.”
“Good thing he’s in a coma then,” John says, voice tight and a little hopeless. “He doesn’t get to have a fuckin’ say.”
“They’ll both hate you.”
“I don’t need them to love me,” John says even though Castiel knows it isn’t true. “I just need them to be safe, have each other.” John turns then, on the stool. Levels a gaze at Castiel that he can’t look away from. “Promise me something?”
“If it’s in my power,” Castiel agrees, but after a hesitation John notices.
“Keep them safe. Make sure they have each other,” John says.
*
“You’ll forget why,” Jeremiel says and there’s a touch of sadness in his tone. “The moment you touch him, you’ll forget why. You’ll think that you were just... ordered to, that there was some higher purpose.”
“There is,” Castiel responds, taking a lungful of air from above because even angels find it hard to breathe underneath. “There’s always a higher purpose.”
“Is it worth it?” Jeremiel asks and Castiel thinks it’s a nice touch that the angel that herds the living to their final place, lets them review their life’s choices, is here now.
Helping him review his choices.
“I made a promise,” Castiel says.
Rating/Warning: PG (Language / Adult themes)
Wordcount: 1,043
Fandom: SPN
By:
kellifer_ficCategory: Castiel/John - pinch-hit for
spn_j2_xmas ficDisclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
Prompt: John/Castiel, time travel.
“You’ll forget why,” Jeremiel says and there’s a touch of sadness in his tone. “The moment you touch him, you’ll forget why. You’ll think that you were just... ordered to, that there was some higher purpose.”
“There is,” Castiel responds, taking a lungful of air from above because even angels find it hard to breathe underneath. “There’s always a higher purpose.”
“We have to stop meeting like this,” John says, lips still touching the rim of his glass. There was no noise, no announcement that someone had settled onto the barstool next to him, but he knows.
He always knows.
“It’s a mistake,” Castiel says, puts a hand on his arm, on his shoulder. It’s a feather-light touch and the hand is gone before John can react to it. When John finally looks at him, Castiel’s making a face. “I’ve done this all wrong. It wasn’t supposed to still be this way.”
“What do you mean by that?” John asks mildly. John puts a hand out, taps Castiel on the knuckles. “If it involved my sons, it was always going to end up this way. Nothing you could have done.”
The first night Castiel sees John Winchester, it’s the night his wife dies. John is in the first of what will become thousands of motel rooms. He’s sitting by the door and Dean and Sam are lying on the double bed in the centre of the room, Dean curled around Sam like a bracket.
Castiel has known John Winchester at this point for a long time, but John has not known him, doesn’t know he exists. At this point he doesn’t know anything exists except that motel room, his boys, the empty place in his heart and the acidic burn in his stomach that something happened.
Castiel leaves them be.
Castiel looks at John impassively, despite being held up by his throat against a wall. Dean, now eight years old, is sitting outside on a picnic table, holding Sam upside down by his feet, oblivious.
“I’m not a demon,” Castiel says. John’s grip gets tighter, he’s probably aiming to knock Castiel out but Castiel can suspend this body’s functions, doesn’t need the air.
“You’re something,” John growls, and Castiel knows at this point of John’s evolution that this equals Bad to him. He hasn’t discovered shades of grey yet, never really does.
“I’m here to help you, no agenda, no price,” Castiel offers and John scoffs, let’s Castiel go. Castiel stumbles a little when his feet hit the floor for appearances sake. He often finds humans are more comfortable if he appears a little human too. He reads the situation correctly because John automatically puts out a hand, steadies him.
“Who are you?” John demands.
“That’s for later,” Castiel says. “Much later.”
Castiel is holding John up against the wall this time. He’d been secretly pleased at the way John’s eyes had widened at his strength.
The boys are in the next room, asleep, always asleep when he comes. It wouldn’t do for Sam and Dean to see him yet.
Might get a little confusing.
John’s babbling. A litany of Ihaven’tIhaven’tIhaven’t. When they’re done, lying in a tangle and Castiel’s rubbing a hand across John’s jaw just for the rasp of the stubble John finishes the thought.
“Not since Mary.”
He didn’t come back for this. He came back to make sure that John didn’t make the mistake that leads to everything else.
It’s such a human thing to do, get distracted like this.
He’s finding himself more and more human everyday and he’s worried that he’s not more worried about it.
He watches the children sometimes. He finds their interactions fascinating, looks for clues as to how they turn into the adults they do in the way they are around each other at such an early developmental stage. He can see Dean being careful with Sam, reckless with himself.
It does say a lot about their future.
“Should I be worried?” John asks. He’s watching them too, a rare respite at a roadside playground. Sam had pressed himself up against the car window when he’d seen it and John had relented and pulled off. Sam had been mad about having to pull up stakes because he’d liked his teacher and they’d had a field trip to the zoo planned he was missing and it was a nice break from the brooding, or so John had explained. “You’re not really the guardian angel type.”
“I’m a soldier,” Castiel says.
“So we’ve got that in common.”
John’s sitting at the bar, he’s always sitting at the bar.
“I don’t know if you could ever really understand,” he says. “That’s my son lying in that hospital bed. Any parent would trade themselves in a heart beat. Just most don’t know that they can.”
“He won’t understand,” Castiel protests. “He won’t want you to do this.”
“Good thing he’s in a coma then,” John says, voice tight and a little hopeless. “He doesn’t get to have a fuckin’ say.”
“They’ll both hate you.”
“I don’t need them to love me,” John says even though Castiel knows it isn’t true. “I just need them to be safe, have each other.” John turns then, on the stool. Levels a gaze at Castiel that he can’t look away from. “Promise me something?”
“If it’s in my power,” Castiel agrees, but after a hesitation John notices.
“Keep them safe. Make sure they have each other,” John says.
“You’ll forget why,” Jeremiel says and there’s a touch of sadness in his tone. “The moment you touch him, you’ll forget why. You’ll think that you were just... ordered to, that there was some higher purpose.”
“There is,” Castiel responds, taking a lungful of air from above because even angels find it hard to breathe underneath. “There’s always a higher purpose.”
“Is it worth it?” Jeremiel asks and Castiel thinks it’s a nice touch that the angel that herds the living to their final place, lets them review their life’s choices, is here now.
Helping him review his choices.
“I made a promise,” Castiel says.