Angels are not supposed to feel love.
How could they? Feelings, emotions, all these — these human perks, derive from the soul. They're ingrained into the construction of the core of human lives to make them be worth something, be worth living. Humans are given such a short span of time that they might as well be born dead. Useless, meaningless little lives in which they're meant to suffer and enjoy and cry and laugh and create and destroy.
But angels? No. They were made to serve God, and be almost as lasting and great as He is. Why would they need souls, or feelings? You wouldn't give a computer nor a cellphone these things, they don't need it. They only need to listen, and obey, and feel wrath in the name of their Father and be able to worship His words. Nothing else.
And yet…
And yet.
The first time one of his siblings fell from grace by a human's hand, Castiel felt disgusted. He couldn't understand the how’s and why’s. Some things needed to happen in order to accomplish Heaven's plan. Some wars, deaths, marriages and massacres needed to be done for the Messiah to be born and the Righteous Man to come along right after. They couldn't afford to fail and put the entire existence in danger. Disobedience was always a whim, a sacrilege, and needed to be punished as such.
He captured Raguel and threw her at Michael’s and Anna’s feet. Castiel was the one to take her wings one by one, twisting them, breaking them, making holes in her ethereal body that could never ever be healed. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, twist. And with all your soul, break. And with all your mind, crash.
And meanwhile Castiel crippled her beautiful Archangel wings, Raguel didn't scream, she didn't scream once. All she repeated over and over again, as breathless as the air —
“But how could you not love them?
How could you know them and not love them?”
She was expelled to the Earth right after… abandoned, cursed, torn. Castiel took charge of most of her responsibilities. As a prize, he gathered. He became one of the most valuable soldiers in Heaven. He was one of the best — maybe the best seraph of them all. It wasn't a surprise Michael and Raphael asked him to lead, capture, threaten and fight non-stop. It's what Raguel would've done had she not been foolish enough to fail. Castiel didn't fail. So, in fact, it was a blessing that when the time came to raise the Righteous Man from Hell, Raguel wasn't around to do it, but Castiel was.
Angels are not supposed to feel love, much less fall in love with.
He wrapped his six wings around the maimed soul, and without surprise, Castiel raised him from perdition. No matter how much Dean Winchester screamed and squirmed in his tight grip, no matter how raw his wings were after the little human soul bit and scratched him, Castiel raised him and rebuilt him with hands that weren't his. He'd never seen a soul from close, and obviously never held one. It was more precious than lightning and mountains, greater than the sea. Knowing it a sin, he couldn't resist putting his mark all over it, possessing it for a moment and claiming it as his. He touched it, he saved it, he was the one to do it. Not Michael. He.
As the days went by and Dean Winchester lived his life, Castiel noticed — there wasn't any other soul like his. Even the most noble and caring souls out there didn't shine half as bright and powerful as Dean's in Hell. Destroyed and corrupted, the Righteous Man held in his core more love and pureness than the most innocent human.
He remembered then, while trying to talk to Dean in his real form, the words of his siblings. He hadn't even crossed a word to this man, and there he was, wanting more. More than worship. More than hatred.
How could you not love them?
How could you know them and not love them?
There he was, wanting more.
And here he is now, in the middle of the day standing in the counter of a Gas n’ Sip looking for the first time at Dean Winchester’s face, bright enough to make anyone forget he once was Michael's Sword. How far those days seem — as if Castiel hadn't been alive since the dawn of creation — how far and wrong those days seem, when Cas looked at Dean’s blurry body and all he could see was the corners his brother would have to stretch to fit in, all the fragile skin and bones he rebuilt and Michael would have to bend and break to make room for himself.
Humans are beasts, Castiel said once to Akobel before he perished in their claws. You have either to tame them or use them. Anything else and they'll devour you from the inside out.
Angels are not supposed to feel love.
But Castiel looks at Dean — he looks at his naked raw face, at those eyes and mouth Castiel once held in his fingertips to bring him back to life — and he inhales deeply to quiet down the rabbit pulse of his heart beating between his borrowed ribs. He just looks at him.
And he feels.
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It is not lost on me that Charlie and Vaggie were initially not doing great against Adam and Lute...and then proved Carmilla was so fucking right.
Vaggie is absolutely FUCKED here. She's been in this position before, with Lute looming over her spitting vitriolic judgment, Vaggie's blood on the ground. Back then, she couldn't stop Lute from taking away her wings, her eye, her home, and her purpose. But now? She has more than that; she has love, because she has Charlie.
When Lute threatens Charlie, everything changes. Vaggie fucks her up immediately...and shows "mercy" knowing that being forced to live with part of herself gone (her arm was CRUSHED, no way was she getting it back), the shame of defeat, and the knowledge that someone she's been looking down on so completely is responsible for it all is a fate MUCH worse than death for Lute.
And Charlie? Charlie's insanely powerful but has no clue how to use her power to its full potential because she's never had a reason or desire to fight until now. Even when she's being strangled, when she's pissed-off and vengeful, she can't really tap into that power. But then Adam comes at her dad and is about to catch him off-guard.
He's about to hurt—possibly kill—her dad, who she's finally building a good relationship with; her dad, who just showed up to protect her despite the risk of politically turning this battle from an act of defiance by a willful princess to an act of full-on rebellion by the King of Hell himself. She reacts on instinct to protect her father and stops a hit that destroyed Alastor's shield. And she does it effortlessly.
Carmilla was right. For these ladies, at least, the need to protect someone they love, no matter what kind of love it is, is exactly what rallies them to come at enemies who were just kicking their asses and absolutely dominate.
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