Jun 2013
Stuttered breathing but no ribs broken. All limbs still intact-
Could I stand? Yes.
All motion functions seemed to be in order-all in place-all as they had always been in this unique vessel he had chosen as his own.
But then it hit him-like a silver knife to the chest-
he was falling,
falling,
falling.
Spiraling out of control with no way to halt-all the pressure of his divine being-stripped with a waxen blade-he was a shell…he was nothing now.
Snapping out of his spasm, Castiel attempted to take in his surroundings again-the realization not yet hitting his aching chest. Aching… Well that was a new feeling.
It was as if his bones were weak from all the pressure he had never felt in all his being since he sprung from existence, at the beginning of the world itself. Mind racing yet numbing, he stumbled, trying to heal his aching, his aching what? He could no longer pinpoint the pain-it was new and fresh like a wound but deceased as well-as if it had long been dead inside with daffodils tossed casually by the grave.
Was this what it was like?
To be human? To no longer feel the rush and pressure of his wings upon his back, never visible unless he chose so; the ache of a human heart pounding in his chest cavity, unnerving and rattling; and the silence-no more of the noise of his divine celestial being; no more being able to answer his friends…
He snapped then and there from his newfound musings of what humanity felt like-
Dean.
Sam.
He could no longer hear their call. Attempting to summon all the remnants of what little remained of his grace-he rose to his feet-he had to find them-he had to find his friends.
Yet silence was the only call that answered him, ringing with the final yell of "CASTIEL!" as the final sound he had heard as he hurtled to the rocky hard earth.
Dean had been calling but he had no way to answer now-
and…
it was useless.
He was branded with the absolute of nothing now.
He was nothing without his grace-nothing…and who could ever want such a monster as he had become anyway?
His grace had been his final stand, his anchor-and all was now lost as he had fallen.
But now-now something just remained-as tears pulled at his eyes-guiding him unwillingly to stare up at the midnight indigo sky.
Falling-all were falling-as if shooting stars had all been drawn to this one night.
There, there was the final proof as he stared up at the sky, the misery now fully realized. His family-all of them-were dying right before his eyes.
And it was again-
as it always was
and always will be-
all. his. fault.
----------
*What a heavy burden
his new heart would have to bear-
Knowing it was
in his name
that all the angels
were stripped bare.
Could I stand? Yes.
All motion functions seemed to be in order-all in place-all as they had always been in this unique vessel he had chosen as his own.
But then it hit him-like a silver knife to the chest-
he was falling,
falling,
falling.
Spiraling out of control with no way to halt-all the pressure of his divine being-stripped with a waxen blade-he was a shell…he was nothing now.
Snapping out of his spasm, Castiel attempted to take in his surroundings again-the realization not yet hitting his aching chest. Aching… Well that was a new feeling.
It was as if his bones were weak from all the pressure he had never felt in all his being since he sprung from existence, at the beginning of the world itself. Mind racing yet numbing, he stumbled, trying to heal his aching, his aching what? He could no longer pinpoint the pain-it was new and fresh like a wound but deceased as well-as if it had long been dead inside with daffodils tossed casually by the grave.
Was this what it was like?
To be human? To no longer feel the rush and pressure of his wings upon his back, never visible unless he chose so; the ache of a human heart pounding in his chest cavity, unnerving and rattling; and the silence-no more of the noise of his divine celestial being; no more being able to answer his friends…
He snapped then and there from his newfound musings of what humanity felt like-
Dean.
Sam.
He could no longer hear their call. Attempting to summon all the remnants of what little remained of his grace-he rose to his feet-he had to find them-he had to find his friends.
Yet silence was the only call that answered him, ringing with the final yell of "CASTIEL!" as the final sound he had heard as he hurtled to the rocky hard earth.
Dean had been calling but he had no way to answer now-
and…
it was useless.
He was branded with the absolute of nothing now.
He was nothing without his grace-nothing…and who could ever want such a monster as he had become anyway?
His grace had been his final stand, his anchor-and all was now lost as he had fallen.
But now-now something just remained-as tears pulled at his eyes-guiding him unwillingly to stare up at the midnight indigo sky.
Falling-all were falling-as if shooting stars had all been drawn to this one night.
There, there was the final proof as he stared up at the sky, the misery now fully realized. His family-all of them-were dying right before his eyes.
And it was again-
as it always was
and always will be-
all. his. fault.
----------
*What a heavy burden
his new heart would have to bear-
Knowing it was
in his name
that all the angels
were stripped bare.
supernatural; spn poetry
