Chapter Text
The bunker felt cold for the middle of summer. The hot water feels like a half frozen pipe, when it hits his half-dead skin. Castiel sat in the shower with his knees to his chest, Sam was standing on the other side of the door as a precaution. Castiel hates this–hates the very fact he’s alive. He knew something wasn’t right the second he showed up, but he's always been pretty bad at reading situations. The last of the goo swirled around the drain, eventually sliding down like a piece of stray hair. He’s been clean for a while now, he just can’t imagine walking out there, he’s already caused so much. Castiel buried his head further into his knees, he's a goddamn angel, he shouldn't be so pathetic. He shouldn't be so human.
“Cas? Are you good? It's been an hour” Sam interrupted his self pity session with the three knocks on the door. Castiel shouted a quick yes and sighed. He should probably get out of the shower. When he shut the water off the ice encompassed him again. He shivered slightly, but endured it and made his way to the spare change of clothes Dean left him on the sink. While Castiel pulled his pants up, he met his own gaze in the mirror
“Who even are you?” he whispered to the stranger in the reflection, his voice barely audible as he studied the tired, broken figure before him. The face that had once been an angel's now seemed more pathetic with each passing day. Castiel shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought, and reached for the wrinkled shirt beside him.
But when he glanced up again, his reflection wasn’t his own. The face that stared back at him twisted into an eerie, mocking smile.
"Fight all you want. It will mean nothing. It will always end in silence."
Castiel froze, his breath catching in his throat as the reflection’s smile only deepened. The voice—it sounded like his, but colder, darker. He leaned toward the mirror, drawn in, unable to tear his gaze away.
“What—”
But before he could finish the thought, a screech filled the room, and a cold, bony hand shot through the glass, grabbing his wrist with unnatural strength.
The creature began to melt into the mirror, its form shifting, becoming the black void he had seen before—the nothingness that had haunted him ever since his return. The grip on his wrist tightened painfully, and Castiel felt himself being pulled, inch by inch, into the mirror’s darkness.
“It’s so loud… you made it so loud…”
The voice was quiet, almost drowned out by the deafening chorus of screams. High-pitched, low, angry, desperate—they all mixed together, surrounding him. Castiel struggled, trying to free himself, but the grip on his wrist began to spread, turning his forearm an unnatural midnight black, a color that brought back memories he couldn’t recall.
“Sam! Help me!” Castiel cried out, but the screams drowned out his voice. His heart pounded in his chest as the coldness seeped further into his body. The grip tightened, pulling him deeper into the darkness.
He closed his eyes. He couldn’t fight it anymore. There was no escape from the endless noise. No escape from the emptiness.
And for the first time in a long while, he let himself go completely.
____________________________________________________________________________
The door burst open, and the horrors around him disappeared, including the hand that was holding him up.
“What happened–Cas!” Sam rushed over to Castiel who is now half laying on the floor, petrified. Sam began checking him over for any more mysterious goo, when he came up empty, he took the shaking angel by the shoulders
“What the hell happened?” Sam’s voice was full of concern and worry , Castiel met Sam’s eyes and gently shook his head
“Talk to me Cas–come on” Sam pleaded, Cas gestured at the mirror, then held up the wrist that was being held by the now gone entity. Sam stopped, and gently took the hand in front of him, scanning it
“Where did this come from?” Sam questioned softly, Castiel cocked his head.
There was a scar of a handprint around his wrist.
Sam placed his fingertips on top of the scar. Castiel winced
“Sorry–This looks like the one you gave Dean.” Sam compared the two, Castiel's confusion deepend. Did Sam really think he’d remember that?
Sam’s eyes widened with sudden realization and apology
“When you pulled Dean out of hell, you left a mark–just like this” Sam explained while gesturing. Castiel remained confused, just a bit less than before. Castiel kept glancing towards the mirror, worriedly.
“Sam I–Something grabbed me from the mirror I–” Castiel tried to explain, trailing off when he realized how stupid he sounded. Sam’s face contorted into confusion, as he turned his head to look at the mirror. Castiel felt hot with embarrassment.
He was truly pathetic.
“What? The mirror?” Sam huffed a small chuckle of confusion after he finished speaking. Castiel couldn't help but read it as condescending. He truly thought he was stupid.
Angels aren't stupid.
“Nothing–it was nothing. Thank you.” Castiel shut the conversation down abruptly. He was not going to be made a fool of. He’s not stupid. He knows what he saw, even if he can’t understand it. Sam just sighed slightly and adjusted so he was sitting directly in front of the broken angel, and followed his eyes to the floor
“What’s going on, Cas?” Sam questioned softly, like talking to an injured animal. Castiel felt ashamed at the false pity. Sam sighed
“You know you can talk to me. I’ll understand–especially if you’re seeing things.” Castiel perked up slightly at that. Can he really trust him? Castiel knows he’s a freak, he also knows he shouldn’t even be alive. He’s defective.
So do the defects even really matter?
From what he has been told he was careless, it’s fitting that his resurrection was also careless. Castiel broke the contact he had with Sam's eyes and looked at the scar on his wrist. How did he never notice it was there? How did he even get out of the empty?
“Sam–Why was I brought back?”
Sam straightened his lips into a thin line, and furrowed his eyebrows searching for a response. Castiel could feel the uncertainty in the air.
“Because we needed you, Cas. Dean he–He wasn’t himself.” Sam did the little chuckle he seems to do a lot at the end. Castiel tried to find a reason why he mattered, why he was worth bringing back. .
“Jack tried to move on. He couldn’t. He came back to us. Dean just drank. It’s what he always does. I just couldn’t take the quiet–the sadness that was in the bunker. You kept us together.”
Sam finished explaining himself and met the angel’s eyes again. The weight of Sam’s words buried Castiel. He couldn’t have done that much for everyone. A pressure in his eyes began to grow.
“I couldn’t be worth all of this…” Castiel’s voice broke, his breath hitching as he whispered. He had meant to say more, but the words felt too heavy. “I— I did so much wrong. I should have been punished.”
His voice was trembling, raw with the weight of self-loathing. He’s not human. He shouldn't feel this way. This wasn’t how angels were meant to behave. This is weakness.
Castiel turned his head slightly, as though trying to hide the shame in his eyes, but Sam could see it—the depth of it. The self-loathing radiating off Castiel was almost palpable, and Sam felt a twinge of sadness for the angel, so far removed from the creature he once was.
Sam didn't answer immediately. He just waited, the silence pressing against them. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice soft, but steady.
“Nobody’s perfect, Cas. You didn’t know.”
The words, so simple, so kind, cracked something inside Castiel. Nobody’s perfect?
The floodgates opened, and Castiel’s sobs poured out, raw and guttural, as if the sheer relief of hearing something kind was too much to bear.
He wasn’t a victim. He was a murderer. A failure. A being who had failed everyone he had ever loved. So why was Sam treating him like this? Like he was worth saving? Like he mattered?
Castiel’s breath came in ragged, desperate gasps as he collapsed forward, his forehead pressing against Sam’s chest. Sam’s hand settled gently on his knee, warm and solid.
“It’s just not fair…” Castiel choked on his words, voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t get a choice this time. I didn’t—” His voice broke, and the sobs came again, louder now, the weight of his guilt pushing him deeper into despair. He could hardly catch his breath. Why was he crying? Why was he letting this human, this mortal, see him like this? “I didn't get to choose… not this time. Not… this life.”
Sam didn’t interrupt. He didn’t try to fix it. He just stayed there, listening, his hand a steady presence on Castiel’s knee. Every now and then, he murmured an “I know,” but that was all. He didn’t need to say more.
The quiet understanding in Sam’s voice was more than Castiel could handle. The tears wouldn't stop. His sobs echoed through the small bathroom, desperate, helpless, a sound that seemed to fill the space with grief. It felt like all of his brokenness, all of his failure, was pouring out of him in this moment.
“I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be,” Castiel whispered through his tears, voice trembling. “Who I was. What I am…”
He collapsed against Sam, trembling as the weight of his emotions overwhelmed him. Sam’s arms were there to catch him, holding him close, pulling him in. Sam didn’t pull away, didn’t shy from Castiel’s anguish. He just... held him.
For a long moment, Castiel just let himself feel—let himself be. He wasn't Castiel the angel. He wasn’t Castiel the soldier, the protector, the savior. He was just a broken, flawed being. A human. And he cried like one.
After a long, shaky silence, Castiel lifted his head from Sam’s shoulder, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. His chest still felt tight, like his heart had been pulled too far out of his ribs, but the weight of the words he'd been holding in for so long had finally been let out.
Sam remained quiet, waiting for Castiel to speak when he was ready. He wasn’t going to push him, but Castiel could feel the softness in Sam’s gaze, the unspoken understanding between them. And still, a question nagged at the edge of Castiel’s mind—something he wasn’t sure he was ready to ask.
“Sam,” Castiel began, voice rough, “What do you think... I’m supposed to be now? What am I, really? I was… I was an angel once. I was a soldier, a servant. But now… I’m not sure what I am anymore.”
Sam hesitated, considering the question with more gravity than Castiel might have expected.
“You’re you, Cas,” Sam replied finally, his voice soft but firm. “Just you. And that’s more than enough.”
Castiel looked away, unsure if he believed it. “But what if me being ‘me’… isn’t enough? What if I’m broken beyond repair?”
Sam shook his head, sitting up straighter. “That’s not true. You’re not broken, Cas. You just… you just need time. Time to figure it out. But you’re not alone in that.”
Castiel Broke the eye contact briefly then brought it back “What If I never remember anything?” Sam’s face went stoic for a moment, he’d thought of that too.
“Then, we’ll figure it out.” Sam paused, and put the reassuring hand back on the fallen angel’s shoulder. “We always do.”
