A/N: Once again, I can't entirely explain where this idea came from. I mean, we were talking about Buddhism in my Eastern Religions class, so it obviously has some roots there, but relating it to Dean and Cas hit me like a metric ton of frozen logs in the middle of class. I may have the exact meaning of the concept a little skewed, but this is how we viewed it, so... Blame the Illinois public university system. And of course, like all my fics, and even this note, the length sort of got away from me, not to mention the wandering plot. This didn't intentionally start out as slashy as it ended up being, either, but it's only as pre-Destiel as you want it to be. I certainly won't discourage it.
For once, the Winchesters' current motel room was inexplicably quiet. They'd done the research (which of course meant Sam had researched while Dean cleaned the guns and Castiel sharpened knives), checking the morgue to make sure the heads and limbs were ripped off, and, when they were sure that it was a chiang-shih, loaded themselves down with iron filings and made sure everything was packed and ready. Now, they just had to wait until the sun set for the vampire-like monster to come out.
And that led to the strangely quiet motel room. Sam had gone out to get dinner, and search the local grocery store for white rice and red peas to help ward the chiang-shih, just in case. Cas was seated, straight as an arrow, in one of the sagging chairs next to the window, staring patiently into space in that serene way only he could manage. Dean wasn't quite sure why he'd stuck around for this hunt of all the hunts, especially when it didn't have a shred of relevance to the approaching End of Days.
Not that he would question the angel's intentions or complain about having some company other than his brother. Sam was good and all, but it was a nice change to have someone else around. If he didn't think about the fact that Cas was an angel, it was almost like he had a regular friend, not a fleeting hunter acquaintance, loose bar girl or the surrogate father figure that Bobby had become. Just a friend.
After Sam left to run his errands, Dean had flipped through the channels for a few minutes before grumbling something about how the lack of any decent programming had to be a sign of the Apocalypse; now, he was just laying on his bed, one arm draped over his eyes as he was left to his own thoughts and the buzzing of the tiny fridge.
When the silence became just too deafening for the elder hunter, he peeked one eye at his angelic friend from under his arm. Like a cheesy statue at a craft store, he was still there, sitting so straight that a level would've been amazed and probably retired to Cabo. Dean snorted to himself, drawing only an askance glance from the angel; the Winchester didn't notice this, though, and the room lapsed back into silence for only a minute before his thoughts got the best of him. The most prominent question escaped his lips before he even realized it.
"Why are you here, man?"
Cas turned to look at him, head tilting in that oh-so-familiar way that had become part and parcel of the angel's persona.
"Would you rather I left?" he asked, seeming almost reluctant to suggest it, but not unwilling to follow through if it was what Dean wanted. At his tone, the elder Winchester immediately shook his head.
"No, it's not that. I mean, why are you here right now? Why do you stick around us? Hell," he added with a derisive snort, "why even betray your own family for us? It's not like it's done you a whole lot of good."
"I chose to fall for you," the angel replied simply, as if it wasn't as such a big deal to sever ties with the only family he knew for two people he had known for less than a year at that point.
"But why?" Dean persisted, propping himself up on his elbows now. He wasn't sure where this sudden curiosity stemmed from, but at least it was a distraction from the boredom. Cas regarded him with an even gaze, a thoughtful glimmer in the back of his eyes.
"The Buddhist term for it is pratityasamutpada," Castiel said after a moment, matter-of-fact. Dean just blinked.
"Come again?" the hunter replied, brow furrowed as he tried to figure out the meaning of the seemingly random string of sounds the angel had just sprung on him. Cas just smiled vaguely at the other man; he probably knew that Dean didn't know what it meant.
"Pratityasamutpada," he repeated with ease. "It's the interconnectedness of all beings and actions."
"Of course it is," Dean nodded, deciding to just roll with whatever the angel was getting at now. "So what exactly does this have to do with us?"
"All things are intertwined, Dean. Everyone in the world is connected somehow, even in the most minute of ways." The angel spoke slowly, as if to a child, but the hunter was apparently ready to shrug this one off; while he usually would've told him to cut the crap, now only a single eyebrow that shot up questioningly. "Our lives are just two such examples of this."
"What do you mean?" the older Winchester asked, eyebrows meeting in the middle as he tried to suss out exactly what the angel was getting at. "Like destiny? Cas, you know I don't buy into that crap." The trenchcoated man shook his head patiently.
"No, at least not the way you perceive it. It's more like cause and effect. Certain actions and certain roles will lead to certain results. You see, I was created by my Father for many reasons, but in most of those respects I am generally unimportant." Dean opened his mouth to protest, not sure what he could say that wouldn't sound ridiculously sappy and girlish, but he was saved from this brain-racking task by a shake of the head from Castiel, who looked away from the Winchester at the same time. "It's true. I was one of many angels created to fight Lucifer and his forces during his original rebellion. Since then I have been tasked to silently watch Earth, guarding a singular day of the week without ever acting, and in those assignments, I was insignificant."
"Come on, man, you know that's bullshit," the older hunter argued, sitting up fully now. The angel still wouldn't meet his gaze, choosing to stare at a random patch of the wallpaper instead, or at least the empty space around it. He smiled a wisp of a smile, almost to himself, and chuckled lightly.
"I believed in my insignificance for many years, Dean. I accepted that I was only as important as the others in my garrison, and less important than my superiors. But I always knew, perhaps in a vague way, that I had a greater purpose, one that I was not explicitly aware of until recently." It was now that Cas chose to look at Dean, eyes looking up through thick lashes, head slightly bowed and eyebrows raised expectantly. The hunter took a moment to figure out what his friend was implying–what had happened recently that had been so important to Castiel? A lot of things had been happening lately, Apocalypse and all, and - oh.
"Me?" he croaked, feeling way too presumptuous, but somehow knowing he was right. "I'm your greater purpose, or whatever?" The angel nodded, eyes now glued to Dean.
"Do you think it was coincidence that I was the one to pull you from Hell? That among many more powerful, more important and well-known angels, I was chosen for the task?" He smiled in a self-deprecating way, sitting up a little straighter. "From the day my Father formed me, with his plans for the Earth already set into motion, my path was intertwined with yours." Dean's mouth opened and closed several times as ways to respond to this were repeatedly shut down by his brain. It was a lot to process all at once, and not quite what he'd expected when he'd first asked the question.
"So, what you're telling me," he began slowly, trying to organize a coherent thought, "is that from Day One, you've been linked to me, even though you didn't know it?" Castiel nodded solemnly. "Well, that's just bizarre. And kind of kinky."
"There are no inherent sexual connotations, Dean."
"Yeah, and thank God for that," the hunter muttered, and quickly navigated away from the conversation before Cas decided to take it any further. "So you're all chained up to whatever happens to me. What's that mean for you? I know angels aren't supposed to have free will, or independent thoughts, so do you just have to go along with my shitty choices?" Dean snorted. "Doesn't sound like much of an honor to me."
"You're wrong," Castiel stated firmly. He looked his friend directly in the eyes now, sure of himself in a way the Winchester had never quite seen in the man. "The choices you make do affect me, but I make my own choices that in turn affect you. Your refusal to cooperate with Zachariah in starting the Apocalypse is what convinced me to disobey my superiors, and because I fell, I was able to save you in your father's storage unit in New York." Dean considered this with equal parts apprehension and understanding, eye contact never wavering as the angel continued.
"Angels do have free will and independent thought to an extent, but we are designed to obey and believe that those above us have absolute wisdom." A familiar ghost of a smile crossed Cas' face. "I think it's our connection that gives me more free will and doubt than my siblings. Angels of my ranking don't usually rebel like I have. I would like to believe that this is thanks to you."
"Don't thank me so soon," Dean shot back. "It hasn't exactly been a garden of roses for us so far." Castiel gave him an acquiescing nod, even though the hunter could tell he wasn't going to sit back and accept that as the end of the conversation. The guy was actually pretty chatty when he wanted to be.
"I know our lives aren't even close to perfect, but imagine how much worse off the world would be if not for the decisions we have made because of one another," the angel reasoned, and the possibilities instantly flooded Dean's mind–the Seals would've fallen that much quicker, Uriel would still be killing other angels, Sam would've been stuck in the abbey with Lucifer, and probably far enough down the hole to say yes. The last thought scared him the most, and for good reason, since there was still a chance the kid would give in at some point, for one reason or another. He hastily pushed the thought from his mind; now was not the time to get hung up on that particular idea.
"So all sorts of tragedies have been avoided just because God made sure our lives are connected?" the elder Winchester reiterated, mind just barely wrapping itself around the concept the longer he thought about it.
"Exactly. I was always designed to watch over you and your family, and help you when the Apocalypse was set into motion. I think my superiors hoped I'd guide you toward being Michael's vessel." His increasingly familiar smile flitted across his lips now. "They didn't estimate how powerful such a bond can be, though." Dean's brow furrowed, raising his eyebrows at the angel to encourage his further explanations. "Like I said, I'm sure you are the reason for my generally un-angelic behaviors. We affect one another without realizing it, because a bond between two souls is generally not as strong as ours. Very few humans have such a powerful predetermined link, and even fewer exist between angels and humans."
"But what about between me and Michael? He's not exactly bucking the system thanks to my spunky personality," the hunter replied with a cocksure grin that they both knew was mostly for show, but neither would ever dare to bring that up. That was more of Sam's thing, anyway.
"That's different. It's a bloodline. Even if the Apocalypse had never started, you would have always had a small connection to him, simply by being born. Our link was forged by God himself, and made to be much stronger because we were meant to work side by side, as friends and allies. You and Michael aren't supposed to fight together, and don't need to depend on each other."
"I'm just a walking, talking Trojan for him," Dean muttered, mostly to himself, earning a vaguely confused look for the reference. He smiled sheepishly at his friend. "Condom brand." The angel's eyes lit up in realization, an action that the Winchester wasn't sure how to take–who was supposed to be giving sex ed to angels? Not Dean Winchester, that's for sure. Not that he would be a bad teacher. He had lots of experience, after all... No, now was not the time to be thinking about that.
"So," the hunter continued after a brief pause, "God strung us up together because he knew I'd need an angel by my side during all of this, and he created you specifically for that reason?"
"That's the general idea."
"So that kind of makes you... my angel, doesn't it?" Dean ventured, feeling weird even saying it out loud. Castiel's eyebrows shot up, a bemused smile appearing as well.
"Yes, I suppose it does," the angel replied, leaning back in his chair. When he was like that, relaxed and smiling, he almost seemed human, really human. "Though we could just as well say you're my human, since the entirety of existence was conceived in a single moment. I have met and watched over other humans, and you have known other angels, even having a connection to Michael, but we were designed to work together. It's a part of our very essences."
"Huh," the hunter managed, not quite sure how to respond to that. It wasn't every day you were told that being friends with someone was an integral part of your very existence. It wasn't really something people prepared you for, but then again, what recent revelations had he been prepared for? It was becoming more and more obvious that things this weird and unheard of only happened to Winchesters.
"I know it's strange," Castiel said, breaking the short silence. Dean just snorted at the man's foray into the obvious, shaking his head resignedly.
"Dude, you don't have to tell me that. My whole life is frickin' strange." He thought about it for a second, then added, "My life is so strange that, with the End of Days on our doorstep, an archangel waiting to jump my bones the moment I slip up, and my little brother, who is also a word away from being the Devil's meatsuit, out getting us dinner and supplies to ward off flying Chinese vampires, I'm actually having a conversation about how strange my life is with a half-fallen angel that I'm apparently spiritually bound to, by no choice of my own, not that I'm complaining or anything."
As the hunter's short rant wound down to an end, his eyes went wide for a second, the reality of his words striking him, but he quickly shook the look away. It was replaced with the usual passive acceptance and weariness that the hunter carried during the times in between the action and joking around. In one fluid movement and two long steps, he was across the room, pulling a bottle of Jack from his duffel and two glasses from the motel's set.
Castiel just watched with interest as the man filled both glasses to just below their rims and turned, offering one to the angel. He took it without question, seeing as he'd given in to his more human urges and taken up drinking whenever he was offered liquor. If he'd thought about it, he'd probably found it to be another habit he'd picked up from his continued connection and exposure to the elder Winchester. As it was, he didn't think about it much, and was just glad for the drink.
"Thanks," he said, and took a long drink of the whiskey at the same time as Dean. Both men paused at the same time, Dean staring aimlessly into the amber liquor and Castiel doing the same into the patterns of the wallpaper.
"We're really bound together, with this whole Buddhist thing?" the hunter asked, hesitation bordered by an unspoken expectation that the angel couldn't quite place; all he could do was nod. Dean seemed to absorb this fact better now, eyes still searching the depths of his drink. "And that's why you were the one who raised me from Hell, and the one they always sent to deal with me, because whether they knew it or not, we were always meant to fight this war together."
"That's right. Our connection is an extreme example of pratityasamutpada, and that's why our paths have crossed so many times that they are nearly one and the same at this point. My superiors thought you would need an angelic guide until you were ready to accept your cosmic duties. They just weren't aware of our greater connection, or the fact that it's part of what made their plans fall apart." The trenchcoated man laughed, if only to himself and his remaining whiskey.
"They may not have counted on our friendship and rebellion, but part of me would like to think that God knew this all along. Destiny or free will, I like to believe he knew exactly what sort of relationship he was forging when he crossed our paths." At this, Dean smiled, eyes drifting to his friend.
"Yeah, I like that. The Big Guy knew he was sticking it to Zachariah, and I can definitely handle that." He raised his glass in a small toast, which Cas promptly followed. "To God screwing dicks over." Each tipped their glass back and emptied it without so much as wincing; a more relaxed mood settled over Dean. He refilled the angel's glass and his own, and looked to the man who was physically and spiritually older than him. "And Cas?"
"Yes?" the angel replied, making unfaltering eye contact with his friend. Dean wavered for a moment, debating whether or not to say what was on his mind, and then resolutely carried on. Anyone who dared to challenge his manhood for what he was thinking could say it down the barrel of his sawed-off.
"Out of all the angels I've met, I'm glad you're my angel." Cas smiled at this, honored to hear such a genuine compliment from the hunter. After all, they were far and few between these days, even more so than they had been in the man's earlier life. The angel just nodded, eyes never leaving his friend's own pair.
"I'm glad, too."