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Castiel does not understand why he has been selected out of all the angels for a task such as this. He has so very little experience of dealing one-to-one with humans. He does not comprehend them at all. He wants to succeed, he wants to be worthy of this honour, but he is conscious that he has made very little study of mortals. He is not wise in their ways, as Zachariah is.
“Sir,” he ventures, uncertainly. “Are you positive they meant me?”
He knows at once that Zachariah is offended; the heat of his anger rolls off in waves, scalding Castiel and reminding him, if reminder were needed, of his place in the celestial hierarchy.
“Castiel, are you questioning my competence, or just the will of God?”
He flinches, his wings trembling, wanting in this moment to flee but knowing he must stand his ground. He has spoken out of turn, and Zachariah would be right to punish him. “No,” he says, hurriedly, keeping his head low in obeisance. “Never, sir. Only – I have little experience of men.”
“It's easy,” Zachariah says, graciously acknowledging his submission and withdrawing some of the fierce intensity of his regard. “You tell him what to do, and he does it. They're simple creatures.”
Castiel knows that it is not his place to argue, but he cannot quite repress a squirming little worm of uncertainty brought on by what he has seen of humans. They do not strike him as quite as tractable as one might hope.
“It is only – sir, I understand the gravity of this task. I am an excellent scholar, and a – and I hope I am a competent warrior.” Truthfully he has never been one of the strongest members of the garrison, and everyone knows it. “But I do not have your understanding of human nature. I still find them passing strange.”
Zachariah glows brighter at this flattery, and at Castiel's humble mien. “You are, perhaps, a touch – naïve, shall we say? Yes. It has been commented upon. But, Castiel - nobody can match you for devotion to duty or purity of heart. You were never tempted to follow our brother in his rebellion. You were never tempted to join Azazel and the grigori when they decided to go crazy with the R&R and started screwing the apes. You were never tempted to emulate Anael in her act of abomination.”
Castiel is sincerely shocked. “Of course not, sir!”
“Don't stare so – plenty of people were tempted. After all, the humans do seem to get to have all the fun, don't they? Sex, drugs and rock and roll. Cocktails. Steak. Nipple clamps. Ha. No, most of us were tempted, but we stood fast, because we knew our duty. But you were never even tempted, were you? We know you, Castiel. You, of all the members of your garrison, have been the least sullied by your proximity to humankind.”
Castiel does not think Zachariah can be right about this. Surely the other members of his garrison were not tempted the way Anael was? As Azazel was? “Thank you, sir,” he says helplessly.
“You would rather watch the sunrise over the Himalayas or listen to the dawn chorus than hang around in strip clubs or abattoirs, wouldn't you? Some angels might be curious about the pleasures of the flesh, but you'd rather just read a good book, or listen to a symphony. And that's what makes you perfect for this job, my friend – we need somebody incorruptible. Someone who will follow orders without qualm or question. Someone of perfect integrity and faith. You, Castiel.”
“You give me too much credit, sir,” says Castiel, feeling acutely conscious of his own shortcomings.
Zachariah smiles. “Not at all,” he says. “don't be too hard on yourself! We know you're the right person for the job because the Lord God Himself has chosen you. What better proof could there be? You're not going to second-guess God, now, are you?”
“No, sir,” says Castiel, appalled at his own arrogance. “I shall do as you command.”
“Good lad,” says Zachariah, with a predatory smile.
Castiel does not understand why Dean flinches at the sound of his words. It has not been his custom to deal directly with mortals, and he knows, of course, that most mundane men and women cannot bear very much reality. He knows that most of them would be consumed in fire or driven mad by a glimpse of his true form, or by the sound of his voice raised in song.
But he had assumed that Dean Winchester – the Chosen One, the righteous man who will defeat the Lightbringer – would be able to behold the truth. It had not occurred to him to doubt it, and he had fully expected that Dean would know at once the glory of the Lord. He had imagined that their first meeting would be a source of joy and wonder. He thought that Dean would fall to his knees and praise the Lord God for His mercy and His love.
What he gets instead is a thief and a sinner, who drags himself out of the dirt and blinks up at the sky in bafflement and relief. A hoarse voice calling out his brother's name with a mixture of hope and dread. What he gets is a man who neither thanks God nor understands His messenger. Castiel is shocked that the very first thing this hero does is not pray, but steal another man's goods. In fairness the angel cannot entirely begrudge him water (although there is water enough in the faucet, after all), but he is taken aback that Dean helps himself to candy, and hard currency, and to lewd images of immodest women. It prompts him to address Dean directly. He had been unsure of how to begin, but the sight of Dean's petty larceny is so disappointing that he feels bound to intervene, and to alert the man to the fact that God is watching. He feels sure that Dean will regret his actions, once he realises that God has chosen him. That he is precious in God's eyes. That he is going to save the world.
It is difficult to believe that Dean is the prophesied hero, as he curls up in the midst of all that shattered glass like a child still in the womb, angry and trembling, with blood trickling out of his ears and absolutely no shred of comprehension on his face.
Castiel does not understand why Dean Winchester has so much difficulty believing that he is worth saving. Why he would rather believe that he has been raised up out of Hell by demons, for some unspeakable reason, than believe that God loves him, and values him, and sent an angel to free him from the pit. It baffles Castiel. God has recognised Dean as a righteous man; if it were not so, then that first seal would never have broken. Dean knows that he has made a life out of throwing himself into harm's way to protect those weaker than himself; he knows that he was in Hell only out of his own act of selflessness, not sin.
And yet he seems to think that he deserved to be there.
Castiel can not understand why Dean Winchester holds himself so lightly, when God treasures him above all others.
Castiel does not understand why Dean Winchester feels the need to argue with every. Single. Thing.
Castiel has explained quite clearly that the Lord God has work for Dean, and that he owes the oxygen in his lungs and the sun's warmth on his skin to this one simple fact. He had expected gratitude, humility, avowals of faith; he most emphatically had not expected suspicion, rebellion, intransigence or disrespect. If he were capable of suffering from headaches, dealing with Dean Winchester would be enough to give Castiel a permanent migraine. Always questions, always defiance, always making things difficult. For a man whose defining trait is loyalty, Dean has an extraordinary capacity for rebelliousness.
Castiel misses the simplicity of his Dean-free existence.
Because Dean Winchester has a very disconcerting way of saying out loud the very things that have been whispering themselves in the back of Castiel's mind. The very things he has refused to think.
Unforgivable questions.
Doubts.
Castiel does not understand why Dean seems to have more faith in him, in Castiel – never one of the most high, never one of Heaven's greatest warriors – than he has in the Lord God Himself. Certainly more faith than he has in Uriel. Oh, Castiel knows that Dean still doesn't trust him very much – can feel Dean wanting to believe that God loves him, that God has chosen him, but Dean's sense of himself simply can't stretch to encompass such a thing. Not really. He's sure that there must be a catch.
And of course he's perfectly right. There is a catch. They are not being wholly honest with him. It is for his own good, of course, but this knowledge does not give Castiel any comfort.
Dean Winchester clearly doesn't quite trust Castiel, but he still, bafflingly, treats Castiel almost like a friend. Like – an acquaintance, like an equal. Not like an angel of the Lord. Not like something wondrous and terrible. He treats Castiel as though Castiel were a human too, with control over his own destiny. As though Castiel had the power to make choices, and as though his own opinions might hold some sort of weight or value of their own.
It is quite – extraordinary. Unprecedented. Dean Winchester seems to care less about what Castiel is than about who he is. And this, in turn, has Castiel asking himself some very uncomfortable questions.
It disturbs him to realise how much he would like to be worthy of Dean Winchester's respect. To be worthy for his own sake, as Castiel, and not simply because he is a messenger of the Lord.
Castiel understands that there is no possibility of defying the Will of God. He understands that obedience is his only course. That it is the right course; the righteous course. That this path they are on will lead to Heaven on Earth. That this is the only way to give Dean Winchester the peace and joy and security he so richly deserves, and for which he will never, ever ask. He understands that it would be abomination to turn against his kin. That there can be no question of valuing one small, angry, ignorant human and his priorities over his duty to the Host of Heaven. He knows that Dean will accept the necessity of sacrifices, and that he will come to realise that flesh is fleeting – that only the soul is really real, and that all the men, women and children who end their mortal span because of Lucifer's Apocalypse will be granted an eternity of bliss when Heaven finally wins.
He understands that he does not have the luxury of free will, and that he cannot help Dean Winchester. That to do so would rob the angels of their victory; would deprive the mortals of their chance to be free; would mean his own dishonour and, most probably, his final and agonising death. That it would certainly sever him forever from the light and love of God, and from all that he has ever fought for, all that he has ever held dear. That it would unmake him.
He does it anyway.