Collection of Destiel

Mending Shards

There wasn't a lot that Cas hadn't seen in the world, being an immortal angel since the beginning of time. Customs and beliefs were programed into his brain. Human kind was not something that was a complete mystery to him, though a lot of the modern sayings and slang still escaped his comprehension.

There was something he understood the most about humans, something he wished he never first hand understood, and that was guilt. As an angel he did his duties without giving it much of a second thought. He killed and followed his orders like the good soldier he was asked to be from his Father. It wasn't until his encounters and relationship with the Winchesters that the guilt started to bare down on him.

Making mistakes became a dread, it weighed heavily on the soul he never thought he had. A gut wrenching ache seared through him with every mistake he made toward Dean and humanity. With every failure there was the knowledge that he had let everyone including himself down. The foreign pain weighed on him until it was crushing the air from his lungs. And though his vessel never leaked tears, he could almost feel the ghost of moisture on his cheeks. He could taste the salty bitter defeat in the back of his throat.

Today was just another dull reminder of all of his failures. Staring at the broken glass on the floor, watching the lights glint off of the broken shards of something that was once magnificent, but marred useless now that Castiel had touched it.

His vessel shook, a vessel that was no longer harbored with Jimmy but still wasn't something he could call himself. He never deserved this human suit, never should have kept it when all it ever did was break things.

"Cas? You here?" Dean's voice called out through the bunker, a voice that once held hope that maybe Cas could make all his wrongs right.

No answer could muster up through his throat. If Dean came in here and saw the wreckage of this glass, of everything Cas had destroyed, then it would mean that Dean would finally see the worthlessness of Cas' existence. What good was an angel that could only destroy?

Without hesitance he knelt down over the shards and started to scoop them into his hands. He clutched at the pieces, not paying mind to the scarlet red that started to drip from his palms, and prayed that Dean wouldn't see it.

"Cas?!" Dean's voice was closer now, more insistent.

The angel felt the glass rip into his skin as he swiftly stepped to the garbage and disposed of the remnants. As the glass fell from his fingers he saw the cuts, the evidence of everything that he was. Minor cuts that shouldn't hurt, but that dug deeper into his soul than any angel blade ever had.

The sour bitterness was back in the back of his throat as he closed his eyes to the blood and tried, with shaking shoulders, to heal the wounds. But his mind was misplaced, the cuts were still a dulling pain in the back of his mind. The slip of blood made him numb.

"There you are." Dean huffed from somewhere behind him. "Why didn't you answer me?"

Cas turned but hid his hands, now in tight fists, behind his back. "My apologizes, I was merely concentrated on something. What did you want?"

The hunter paused as he looked over Cas' wrinkled suit, his eyes pausing over a red smear on the always perfect white button down. "Who's blood is that?"

"Oh." Cas allowed his eyes to fall to the floor. "No one of importance."

"Cas-"

"I should be going. You must be exhausted so I shall give you space to rest."

"What happened to watching over me?" Dean chuckled lightly as he took a step forward, which in turn caused Cas to take a gentle step back. "Hey, what's wrong?"