[Castiel] Thursday's child has far to go. (childofthursday) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-07-27 12:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, castiel, tessa |
Who: Castiel + Tessa
What: Coffee Meeting
When: Monday 7/22
Where: Coffee shop
Rating: Low
Status: Complete
Monday evening rolled around, and Tessa went to meet Cas at the coffee shop. She wasn’t expecting them to be instant friends, but she was hoping to build a bridge, so he and Dean wouldn’t have to be an island unto themselves. They were strong, she’d seen that much in the dreams, but she’d also seen just how rough things could get before the dreams would blow over.
She wanted to establish at least a little bit of a rapport, before things got any more intense. She just hoped Cas wouldn’t think that she was trying to get a piece of his man, when he found out who--and what--she was.
This whole situation was strange. Although Castiel had yet to dream anything on his own, he knew he was an Angel of the Lord. He knew that Dean dreamt terrible things. He knew that Dean's brother dreamt, and his own brother did too. And Tessa. Tessa, who knew Dean somehow in both dreams and regular life.
Tessa, who he was sitting across a little table from. He felt awkward, unsure. Fingers wrapping around the coffee that he'd purchased not a moment before, he offered her slightly raised eyebrows and what might have been a smile. "Hello."
Tessa inclined her head in a nod of acknowledgement, offering her own soft smile. Dean hadn’t asked her how she knew so much about him, so she hadn’t gone into detail, but if Cas asked her directly--whether about the dreams, or about her history with Dean--she wouldn’t lie. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
Even in her dreams, when they had both worked with Dean to prevent the breaking of the same apocalyptic seal, it had been like some intricate game of tag in which they both orbited around Dean, but never came face to face.
Well, that was the thing, wasn’t it? Even Castiel, with no dreams to speak of, knew so very, very well that everything in life orbited around Dean Winchester. Everything and everyone. It was like Dean was the exact center of the Universe, that there was nothing possibly more important than that one man. If you met other people along the way, that was good. But it wasn’t ultimately necessary.
“You, as well.” He said, tone gravel and sand paper and so oddly polite. His gaze varied from too much eye contact to flitting across the room and down to the table. Uncertainty. “You know Dean.” Had to start somewhere.
Tessa nodded, watching Cas’ face, but trying not to stare so long that she would make him uncomfortable. He seemed nervous enough already. “We met in high school. I liked his car, and he wasn’t scared of my brothers.” She shrugged. “We saw a lot of each other for a while, and then life happened, and we went our separate ways.”
Dean wasn’t the type who would be scared of the older brothers of a girl, and so Cas wasn’t surprised. He only nodded, sipped his coffee and then made that devastatingly blue eye contact of his again. “You were familiar.” It wasn’t a question, nor was it even jealous sounding. Castiel was simply pointing it out as if to make it known that he was aware.
“We were.” She figured he’d put two and two together. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Dean had loved the ladies, until Cas had come along and rocked his world. Cas and Dean shared a spiritual connection that few could rival--Tessa was just surprised that she and Dean still got along as well as they did, even after so many years out of touch. “Not as close as you and he.”
Cas didn't really seem surprised by that either. It was hard to be shocked about how profound his bond with Dean was when his handprint was scared across the other mans' arm. He wasn't really smug either. It was just something that was.
"And the dreams?" He almost felt the need to apologize for his lack of conversation skills. But she didn't seem tremendously bothered, and so he didn't.
“I’ve met him three times in the dreams,” she said, “All three times in a professional capacity.” Well, except for the part where she’d tried to flirt with him the second time. But by then, he already had Cas’ fingerprints on his soul. “I tend to hover in the background.”
That wasn’t very explanatory, but Castiel was a patient sort of man and so he only nodded. They’d get to it. “I’m an angel,” he said -- because he knew that Tessa knew it. And even if he hadn’t dreamed it himself, he’d been told enough to believe it to be so. As strange as that sounded.
But really, the reason he pointed it out was because it was a vague question. What was she?
Tessa caught his drift. “I’m a reaper,” she said, trying not to hold her breath as she waited for his reaction. She knew it might not mean much to him yet, but how much did he know about reapers from popular culture, or folklore?
Not much, exactly. Castiel was intelligent, but focused more often on practicality than things he once would have considered fiction. But even then, a person would have to be completely oblivious in order to not know a little bit about reapers. He tilted his head to the side, squinting thoughtfully. “Like death?”
“Yeah,” she said, “I collect the souls of people who die, and escort them to...whatever comes next. I specialize in warriors. Soldiers. Like Dean.” The last part probably went without saying, but there it was. “Dean has a habit of cheating Death, though, and apparently I liked that about him.”
“He goes to Hell,” Castiel felt the need to point out, frowning. The idea of Dean cheating death was -- comforting in its own right, but it was very clear that he didn’t always manage completely. Not as comforting.
“You like that he doesn’t follow the natural order of things?” He didn't understand.
“He sold his soul,” she said, frowning. “Sort of cuts the reaper out of the picture--and no, I didn’t like that much, but that’s beside the point. I guess I just liked the fact that he keeps getting back up again when he’s knocked down. Most people who’ve been through what he has would just give up, surrender. He doesn’t. And that’s a rare thing. I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be.”
That made sense. Dean, even in this life, seemed like the overly resilient type. Cas liked that about him straight away. Before he was Cas, or Castiel. Back when he just went by James, and then Jimmy. It felt like a long time ago, even though realistically it was just a few short weeks.
“I don’t doubt you can,” he said, oddly serious.
“I couldn’t stop it,” she said, a flicker of something--empathy, regret--crossing her face as she thought back to Dean’s incarceration in hell. “In the end, I can’t force a person’s will. I could only offer a choice. Dean had too much unfinished family business, so he resisted crossing over with me when he was supposed to, and...well, then it was too late. His father sold his soul to a demon in exchange for Dean’s recovery, and a year later, Dean sold his soul for Sam. And that’s where you come in.”
Leave it to Dean to deny death and just carry on like it was his choice to make in the first place. It was a weird thought, knowing what he did -- to think that John Winchester would do anything good for his children. Even that, Castiel thinks, was not enough. Not nearly. He did not say so.
He’s heard this story, sort of. Castiel knew more about his dream self from hear say than he ought to, and was slowing becoming accustomed to the idea of just being some sort of -- super powered being of light. Or something. He imagined it to be very nice, and yet everyone keeps telling him how rough and awful it was going to be.
“I raised him from perdition,” he said, resolute, nearly proud. He liked the idea of being the one to save Dean. A protector for someone who usually only protects.
“You did.” Tessa smiled. She had been none too happy with some of Castiel’s brethren in the dreams, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes of how different he was from the rest; and how much he already cared about Dean. Maybe it would give them a head start, somehow.
“Hopefully you won’t have to do anything like that in this life. At least not literally.”
At that, Castiel shook his head. "I sell insurance here. I don't foresee --" He paused then, wrapping his fingers around his coffee cup and tilting his head thoughtfully. "Can you do things here?" If she could, it must have been a very strange thing. Not something he'd hope anyone would have to do.
Tessa nodded. “You catch on fast.” She ran her fingers through her hair, just casually, and for a moment, it would appear blond instead of nearly black. Then she dropped her hand, and the illusion along with it. Blond was not her best look, but it would make an impression. “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
Of course he caught on fast -- he was socially stunted, not stupid. He blinked, eyes narrowed and gaze set on her hair. As much as everyone had been talking about powers and all, the most he'd managed seeing was his older brother appearing out of nowhere. Which was impressive, but also less showy than one would expect if they weren't paying attention in the first place.
"I see." He didn't know what else to say. He wasn't sure how going blonde might help a reaper. It seemed like a strange thing to be curious about, so he didn't ask.
“Do you really?” she asked, leaning forward, with her arms folded on the table in front of her. “Look again.” And she let him see a glimpse of her spirit form, a spectral image superimposed over--or was it hidden behind?--her physical face.
And braced for his reaction.
But he didn’t give much of a reaction beyond staring very closely at her, as if maybe if he looked quite long enough he might be able to commit every bit of her unnatural form to memory for later usage. This Castiel, she would find, rarely made large outbursts of any kind. In fact, he just wasn’t particularly talkative at all. He wondered if the Dream Castiel was different. If he was a better, smarter, more socially developed sort of man. Angel. Whichever.
“I think I do,” he murmured finally. “Is it difficult for you?”
Angels didn't really socialize. Some of them were better at politics, and communication, than others. But Tessa couldn't really give an unbiased opinion. "It was strange at first," she said, "but what is truly difficult is knowing when to use my powers to intervene, and when to let life and death take their course."
“I can’t imagine,” Cas said, holding his coffee again, but not drinking it. He didn’t realize that at some point he’d have to imagine that sort of thing an awful lot. Perhaps not on the same scale as Tessa, though.
“How do you decide?”
“In the dreams, I am usually not permitted to intervene without direct orders from Death,” she said, “And Death usually only intervenes under a very specific set of criteria. Here?” She smiled a little. “I just have to use my best judgment, and I haven’t meddled often. Only once, when something very unnatural was going on. And believe me, there will be consequences for it.”
“This is all very strange,” Castiel murmured after a long pause and too much eye contact. He wasn’t sure what else to say on the matter -- powers of life and death were not topics he usually spoke on. He sold insurance. He owned a home. He watched the ocean during his lunch breaks. This was -- a lot.
“I know,” she murmured. Maybe she’d had an easier time accepting it because her father was a medical examiner, and she was a paramedic, so she was used to dealing with life and death. Maybe she had been a valkyrie all along. “But if you do start dreaming the same things as Dean and I, then you deserve to know what’s coming.”
“What’s coming?” he repeated, looking a little curious, a little concerned. Did he want to know, beyond his adventure in saving Dean from Hell? It was really hard to say.
“Struggle. Doubt. Betrayal. Manipulation. Lies. Truth. Hope. Determination. Love, anger, jealousy, passion.” Tessa’s voice was soft, but it resonated with passion of her own. “You will see the best and worst of humanity. Of yourself, and of each other. It will more than likely bring out the best and worst of yourselves in this world, as well.”
Saving Dean from hell was only the beginning.
Cas looked away, eyes flitting to the floor and then the ceiling before ending back up on his half empty cup of coffee. He was unsure of what to say. He didn't want to believe that anything could sound either so dramatic or worrying.
"It will be all right," he said, and then made to stand up. "Realistic dreams are still only dreams. I will not let them be the foundation to what I have here, not for Dean or myself." And then he flashed her an almost apologetic smile. "But the warning is both admirable and kind of you. I should go. Dean is probably drunk and propositioning the internet."
Tessa smiled a knowing little smile. The bond that Dean and Castiel shared in that other world was already a deeply inextricable part of their relationship. She only hoped that they could find a way to transcend their dreams. And that Dean would learn when not to flirt with everything on two legs.
"Good luck keeping him in line. I hope we get a chance to talk again."