THE ELEVENTH HOUR [Castiel x F!Reader]

16

Staring at the ceiling and trying to sleep seems like the only thing you do recently - other than run for your life from Angels and Demons. Sitting up in the small spare bedroom, you look around. Deans off somewhere searching through Bobby's old stuff, Anna is gone, Sam is probably devising some stupid way to find Ruby, who left to explore more options. It's just you, in this dark room, wide awake at 2 am.

"Castiel... I feel like an idiot," you admit to the silent air, staring up to the corner of the room, "but I think you can hear me if I say your name - or pray, or something. I don't know, really. I'm basing this off church, which is... never reliable. Cas, can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can."

"Shit!" You gasp at the figure from the corner of your eye. Turning to the bedside table, you turn the lamp on. Its dim glow illuminates the angel at the foot of the bed. "You came."

"You called." He answers seriously, standing stiffly as he looks down at you.

You sit up properly, lifting the bed sheets with you, "I didn't think you would listen to me."

"And I didn't think you'd call," he tells you, looking down slightly, "if this is about Anna, I-"

"It isn't," you admit to him. It's been weeks since Anna left, weeks since you've seen Castiel.

He gives a curt nod before asking, "What do you need, Y/N?"

"I, um," you answer awkwardly, watching his reaction closely, "I can't sleep."

"You prayed to me because you were unable to sleep?"

"No, not really," you pause for a moment before adding, "I just... I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to see you, Cas."

"I'm not supposed to be here," he sits at the end of your bed, "Heaven would riot if they knew."

"I think Dean and Sam would too," you admit, sadly, "I-I'm sorry, I don't know why I prayed to you, I just... I don't understand."

"Explain it to me," he pushes you gently.

You watch him sit on the edge of your bed, his eyes focused on you, "I thought you were my friend."

"I am. I'm just not human, I don't get free will," he admits to you, his eyes glossing over your messy hair and tired eyes, "I follow the orders I'm given."

"But you're here, aren't you? Without Heavens approval?"

"I thought you may be in danger..."

"That sounds like a lie," you admit to him.

Castiel hides the faint smile that threatens to show on his face, "Well, I guess that's the paradox of decisions, isn't it? Knowing you can't do something but wanting, so desperately, to do it anyway," he whispers, looking down at you with his eyebrows furrowed, "Can I speak plainly?"

"Yes."

"I had hoped you would call for me. I waited for you."

"Why?"

"I wanted to see you," he answers truthfully, inching closer to you on the bed, "I can't explain it. Carrying out Gods will is... difficult," he has a conflicted look on his face, "especially when it goes against you. And I know that what I did wasn't right by you. I had hoped you'd call me so that I could explain myself."

You give him a small nod, "I know you're sorry, Castiel. I know you think Gods will is pure. I can tell you're conflicted."

"It's odd," he frowns at himself, lips pressed into a tight, shameful line, "I want to protect you, I don't want to hurt you. But I can't disobey direct orders. It feels as though any choice I make is the wrong one. It's terrifying," he sighs his admission dimly, "having to decide."

"Yeah, tell me about it!" A smile grows on your face and Cas watches it, admiring it as he, himself, did all those weeks ago, "That's what life is - one terrifying decision after the other. And it never stops. At least I don't think it does."

Castiel smiles tenderly, his eyes flicking over your features, to your lips for a moment. Something inside of him tells him to lean forward, to touch you, gently, to be closer to you in any way that he can.

You watch him, your eyes widening slightly when you feel the same pull. But before you can lean forward, he tears his gaze away, "I suppose decisions are made better when you're well-rested. Would you like my help?"

"I really hate to ask you-"

"I don't mind, truly," he rises to his feet, walking around the bed. His eyes are on you as he kneels on the floor beside the bed. "Lay back, Y/N."

"Okay," you shuffle down into the bed, resting your head upon the soft pillow and turning to look at him. He gives you a small smile, and you return it, "Thank you, Castiel."

"My honour," he whispers to you. His tender hand rests against your forehead, while his other arm leans against the bed. He encapsulates you, pressing two fingers against the side of your temple. "What would you like to dream about tonight?" He asks genuinely, "Dean?"

"No," you answer, looking up at him. You never noticed how long his eyelashes are, they frame his pretty eyes so nicely. "I-I don't... know."

You're suddenly flustered and, upon realising you are, feel embarrassed and stupid - and half scared that he can read your mind and know that you're flustered at how close he is.

"How about you take a breath first," Cas suggests, noticing your red cheeks in the pale yellow of the lamp. He says nothing of it, hearing the way you stutter your sentence quietly. Your heart quickens, he can hear it. "I'll bring you to sleep and your brain can decide the rest."

"I don't know that I trust my brain that much," you let out a small laugh, "you decide; anything you do, I like."

Castiel chuckles gently, his thumb grazing the side of your face for a moment, "Alright, I think I know. Take a breath, close your eyes."

You do as he says, sparing one last look at him before you rest into the pillow and comfortable bed.

"Rest well, Y/N."