Seer 3: Fallen

Baby and Brothers

Third morning in a row, awakened to feather light touches on bare skin.  Always somewhere different, and already happening before the sleep ebbed away. Perhaps the whole night.

This time, sprawled out on my back with nothing but shorts on, the touch was tracing the path of the scar left by the Grigori sword. Little pulses of healing attempts could be felt, followed by muted, frustrated groans beside me.
I lazily halted the hand at my collar before it made another pass, and held it. Flopping my head over the pillow to look at the frowning angel.

"What are you doing?" I asked hoarsely and squinting.

Castiel sighed gravelly, furrowed at it again before looking at me.
"I can't make it go away. I dont understand."

"It's pretty obvious," I informed him twisting into a stretch, his hand lazily running back down my front side as I extended.

"How?"

Another guilty sad thing of the past on my mind wasn't something I wanted to deal with first thing in the morning. But it happened.
"The Watchers, Cas," I began as I sat up and cracked my stiff neck, "they were mine. I was theirs. For one them to hurt me..."

"Left a scar beyond the physical," he finished with comprehension, and I nodded sullenly. "You feel bad for them?"

"What I felt when he touched me, and worse when he attacked...it was just so sad. So wrong. They didn't just go rouge, Cas. They went mad. Because they didn't have her. They didn't have the Seer. That's like...imagine if God had dissapeared on you other angels right from the beginning. "

"I see your point," he dismissed, not wanting to continue either.

I shuffled away from his inviting arms to go looking through the increasing mess of our shared room for a shirt. We'd been doing nothing for days, but surfing channels, researching occasionally, and having sex. Total bum mode, both of us. For me, it was just a nice change. But something was wrong with my angel. Still a little weak after Rowena's spell had ravaged him, but that wasn't it.
He was more clingy than usual. And unmotivated. A depressed state I recognized all too well from my own experience.

Reminding myself my brothers were still around, I found a dark t shirt to cover up, since I wasn't fond of bras these days.

"Can I ask you something, Hazel?" I heard his distant tone from behind me as I worked to dig through my desk for a comb.

"Always," I said lightly, a little too distracted and still groggy to notice he sounded distressed.

"What happened to you, when the Darkness was released?"

I stopped what I was doing and turned to my bare angel laying across the sheets like a novel cover.
"What do you mean? You were there. It hurt. Alot."

"Beneath that," he replied a little irritably, "past the pain."

I crossed my arms, trying to understand where this was coming from, and then it hit me. Dean and his inability to keep secrets, unless it's about himself. Naturally, he told Cas about the way Amara made me feel in proximity, but didn't mention he had it the same but even worse.
"The Darkness..."I began with a sigh, "it doesn't feel...evil. Just...absolute. Inevitable. Nothingness. But not necessarily in a bad way. It feels...neutral. Like destructive forces
of nature does. She's not like the other dark things in this world. She wasn't twisted and made from evil. She's above and beyond such things."

"You sound sympathetic," he said with lowered eyes as he too finally dragged himself off the bed.

I tried to keep him from worrying and hung myself on his neck.
"Yeah that's my curse," I said, "why do you ask?"