When Heaven Calls

Painful Truths

Why am I unable to wake up? Am I truly this weak now? I feel as if I am trapped here, in my own memories. Suddenly he was sweeping through the skies of Heaven on powerful wings, his form not contained within a fragile, confining vessel. Longing nearly overwhelmed him. Home, my wings. What's an angel without it's wings? Without it's own Grace? What am I doing still on Earth? How much longer must the inevitable be delayed? 

"Castiel." 

That voice...he pulled up short, wings flexing to allow him to hover. This isn't a memory. "Father?"  Power flowed around him, the purity of it filling him with a sense of rapture and love. He was home and Father was here, finally, after so long, "Father." 

"Yes, Castiel, it's me. How many questions you have my dearest child! Do you have a preference in which order they are answered?" 

"You, you're...." he knew that Father could hear his thoughts which had erupted into incoherence, "Please...I....Forgive..."

"Shh. There is nothing to forgive."  For some reason Father's voice sounded familiar yet different from how he remembered hearing it when he was first created. Of course that had been eons ago, but still, it reminded him of someone he'd heard recently. "You're fading Castiel, you have stolen another angel's Grace." 

"Two actually. This one Crowley put in me, the other, well I stole that one but he was trying to kill me."

"Crowley? The King of Hell saved you?" The sense of power shifted and spun around him and Father took a more distinct form. His face was gentle, Castiel had expected anger, righteous rage, but what he saw was a being who radiated such endless regret and kindness that Castiel had no idea how to proceed. "Why would he do that?" 

Prompted by Father's question his mind got back on track, "Dean Winchester had turned into a demon that proved to be too unruly for even the King to control. Crowley saved me so I could help save Dean." 

"Did you?" 

"Yes." 

"Of course, you have saved Dean Winchester since time immemorial. It pleases me that even after everything you still stay true to your ultimate mission."

"Ultimate mission?" He had never heard of such a thing.

"Yes." Father sighed, "So much to say, so little time. Castiel, certain souls, certain people, they are to be protected at all costs." 

"Prophets, yes I understand." 

"Not just them. You know that Sam and Dean were fated for this role but you don't know for how long nor do you truly understand what role you have played in their lives. All of your disobediences, well most of them," Father chuckled, "Were as a result of what your ulitmate mission has always been, to make sure Sam and Dean were born and then to protect them. Let me show you." Father's hand touched his forehead, his mind filled with connections, families and bloodlines. 

"That village I saved? Those men I helped? That woman's child? I was punished for saving it. They?" The immensity of it rippled through him. 

"Yes Castiel, all ancestors of Sam and Dean."

"But..." 

Father sighed again and looked away from him. "The short and very imprecise answer is this. Yes, I am powerful, yes I could change things but I learned after Lucifer, the Fall and the things that followed that the more I tried to force angels or man to do my bidding the more they fought against it. Castiel, I withdrew because I grew tired of punishing, of destroying, of telling my angelic children to destroy my human ones because they offended me. I created things in my image and even I have disagreements with myself about what I should do. How can I hold my creations to a different standard than I hold myself to?"