A/N: Alright, so this is my first Supernatural fic of any kind. Sort of. I have another one, but it's kind of, sort of, under construction, kind of. Yeah... So, I hope I got everything write. I really wanna do this scene justice. I loved it when I first saw it, and I just knew I had to do something with it. Oh, and Castiel is my favorite character, though I love most of them. It's not very original, I know, but he - is - awesome. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural.
The Little Girl with Green Eyes
A Castiel One-Shot
"I'll just…" Castiel trailed off as he heard the dull, irritating tone on the other end of the telephone line. He'd learned that this sound meant the person you were talking to was not there anymore. He couldn't help but to think that – in a human's mind – the action Dean had just executed would be called rude.
"Wait here, then."
Pursing his lips, his blue eyes roamed. He was standing on the sidewalk of an empty street. On either side of said street, houses lined the walk. Street lamps lit the night, causing the damp asphalt of the road to glitter and shine. The air here was fresh, possibly due to the many trees and shrubs in the many yards. The cold, wet air around him made his vessel's fingers become chilled. This area was very attractive to the eye and nose.
Castiel found himself drawn to a window on the house opposite him. He did not understand why he looked, but that was not necessarily of import. However, what he saw was.
His eyes narrowed as they focused on a small head, half hidden by the window frame. It was only there for a moment, and then it disappeared from view. Castiel was curious. Humans were very odd, and he did not fully understand them yet. Especially their young.
His eyes moved from the window as a soft click emanated from the door a small ways away. His blue orbs shifted to said door, and he watched as a young girl pushed it open and stepped outside. She was not dressed as most of the humans Castiel had encountered. Instead of a shirt and pants, the girl wore a sort of one-piece outfit. It was made of some pink material which appeared soft.
The girl broke out in a toothy grin, and ran down the steps of the patio, only to stop when she reached the road. She looked both ways with a frown. With wide, green eyes, she looked directly at Castiel.
"Gramma tells me not to cross the road without her!" she called to him.
He cocked his head to the side, fascinated by this little girl.
She glanced back at the house, biting her lip, and then turned to Castiel again. She looked down the street again, and then sucked in a large breath. Castiel wondered if an excess amount of oxygen gave humans courage or strength. He made a mental note to ask Dean later. Then, he watched as the little girl stepped into the road and paused. Once she was sure nothing was going to turn the corner and race down the strip of asphalt, she ran across with her arms swinging wide, as if that would make her faster.
She grinned up at Castiel when she reached him, her small chest heaving.
"I knew you'd come!" she shouted, throwing her short arms around his vessel's hips. "Gramma said God would send you!"
Castiel was thoroughly confused now. God had not sent him. Not even Heaven had sent him. Perhaps this girl had him mistaken for someone else.
The little girl released his knees, and instead reached out to grab his hand, which was so much larger than hers, from his side. Castiel found the grip odd. No one had touched him this way before. Anna had touched his hand, but had not taken it warmly in hers. He found that he enjoyed the warm sensation.
Castiel's warm orbs of blue drifted from their joined hands to the girl's small, round face. She had a pudgy nose, and freckles were dotted gently across it. Her long, dark hair fell around her shoulders wildly. However, it was her shinning, green eyes that he examined most thoroughly. There was a glint of innocence behind her gem-like irises. And she was looking at something past his shoulder.
Curiously, he turned to see what she was, but saw nothing that had not been there moments ago.
"What are you looking at?" he asked, his head gently cocking to the side.
The girl grinned. She was missing one of her front teeth.
"Your wings," she answered. "They're very pretty."
Castiel's brow jumped in shock. "You can see my wings?"
The girl nodded enthusiastically. "I thought they'd be white, like in all of the pictures."
Shockingly, the little girl was right. His wings were not white. Instead, Castiel's wings were light brown, and he'd always envied his older siblings for their snow-white wings. Despite that, he was happy with them. The feathers were shiny and placed well, not one ever leaving that place.
Castiel was still surprised when the little girl began tugging him back into the road.
"Gramma says that there are lots of angels in Heaven, and that they all have different wings," the little girl said, breaking him from his reverie as she continued to tug him by his hand. "I've never seen one, but Gramma is always right."
Castiel blinked, and then nodded. "Yes, my brothers and sisters are of plenty."
"Do angels have names?"
"What's yours? Mine's Cassandra. Daddy said he named me after Mommy," she exclaimed, puffing out her small chest in pride.
Though questioning this action, Castiel answered, "I am Castiel."
Her face pinched for a moment, her brow burrowing over her green eyes. "I don't know you. Daddy would, though! Daddy knows all the angels."
"Your father has spoken with my siblings?" Castiel asked, shock written on his features.
"Well," she started. "not exactly. He says that they come in his dreams, and they tell him that Mommy is watching over us."
Castiel was once more very confused. It did not matter who she was; this little girl's mother was not watching over her. The humans did not realize that they were - and always would be - alone. Of course, they had a few angels who would protect them, but their dead relatives would never be there to take care of them.
Castiel watched carefully as the girl pulled the door of her house open again. She pulled him inside, and then released his hand to secure the door. Once it was shut and locked, she turned back to him and held one of her short fingers against her red lips.
"Daddy's sleeping," she whispered, reaching out to once more latch onto his hand.
Slowly, she pulled him up a flight of stairs nearly directly behind the door they'd just entered. It appeared to be a challenge for her short legs to get up the steps with ease, as he was doing. He knew he could've been at the top much quicker, but allowed the girl to continue. The look of determination on her pale face was enough to stop him from lifting and carrying her to the top.
Once the two reached the top of the stairs, she pulled him down the left side of a short hallway. A door was left ajar at the end of it, a gentle orange light flooding through the thin crack. The girl released Castiel's hand, and ran to the door, gently pushing it open. She stepped inside, barely glancing back at him as she proceeded further into the room. Castiel followed, pausing in the doorway.
The room was not large, but not small. There was a large window on the far left wall, the curtains drawn to keep the light from the rising sun from coming inside. Few things decorated the walls. A photograph of the little girl and a man hung beside the window, as well as one of a woman whose green eyes and dark hair were much like the girl's. Centered and pressed against the far wall was a large bed. Castiel was able to make out a human shape beneath the blankets.
The little girl was standing beside the bed, staring down at the figure in it with hopeful eyes. Castiel slowly stepped to her side, looking down to view what her eyes were frozen on.
A man, the one from the picture hanging by the window, rested there. His hair was brown and short, but flecked with grey near his temples. His face was worn and wrinkled, and he appeared relaxed. Castiel doubted he had always been that way, though. And, around his neck, the chain of a silver cross could be seen.
"Daddy keeps saying that God chose this path for him, but I think God made a mistake," the little girl muttered, blinking sadly.
Castiel reached out and gently touched the man's resting hand. He could tell something was not right.
"What is wrong with him?" he asked.
The girl grabbed Castiel's free hand. He assumed it was for her own comfort. This child seemed to think very highly of him and his siblings.
"Daddy's dying…" the girl sniffled. "Not like Mommy did. Daddy has cancer. I thought you'd know this."
Castiel's eyes narrowed, focusing on the man's face. The girl was silent, watching him as he assessed her father. Her eyes were like saucers, so wide that her entire gem-like iris was visible. Castiel turned back to the girl, his lips pressed tightly together.
"What is it you wish me to do?"
A broken look came to the girl's eyes. "I want you to fix him."
Castiel sighed, and returned his gaze to the man. It was simple enough to right injuries, but something that had been put there by Fate was something completely different. He could, however, and would. Castiel put himself in this little girl's place. If he were to know that God were dying, and met someone who could save Him, he would ask and hope.
Having made a decision, Castiel stepped forward, his knees bumping gently against the frame of the bed. He reached out a hand, and set it gently across the man's forehead. With a deep breath, he began the process. It did not take long, and the little girl watched carefully, as if she could learn how to do the same by mere observation. He knew that she couldn't, but he did not wish to rip her hope from her.
"He will need rest, but he will live," Castiel said, removing his hand and looking down at the little girl.
She attempted a smile, but her face jerked uncontrollably with emotion. Instead of speaking, she wrapped her small arms around his hips once more. He could feel her grip his trench coat tightly in her small fists. His hands twitched at his sides. Muscle memory was trying to get him to place his fingers on this child's head, but he did not feel right about it. It seemed too human. Instead, he allowed the girl to hold him tightly.
After several moments, she stepped back and smiled up at him.
"Thank you, Castiel," she murmured.
Then, she turned and crawled onto the bed, curling up against her father's side. She closed her eyes, and her slightly erratic breathing slowly became more stable. Castiel waited for her to become calm, and then disappeared, only to reappear in the same spot he'd been when the girl had found him.
His mind floated to the girl, and he stared at the window he knew she was behind. The curtains remained shut. She could see his wings. There were humans who could perceive his true form, hear and understand his real voice, but he had not known that there were those who could view his wings.
He contemplated this into the early hours of the next morning. He thought, and thought, until the time Dean had told him to come.
The moment he appeared in the hotel room, he knew something was wrong. Acting on instinct, he grabbed Dean, and returned to the street he'd just left.
Dean turned around, a look of shocked relief on his face.
"That was pretty nice timing, Cas," he uttered.
Castiel glanced at the window out of the corner of his eye. "We had an appointment."
Dean sighed and took a step forward, placing his hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Don't ever change."
Castiel smiled gently, something he was not accustomed to doing. "How did Zachariah find you?" he asked.
"It's a long story," Dean shrugged and stepped back. "Let's just stay away from Jehovah's Witnesses from now on, okay?"
Dean then went on to explain everything that had happened to him in the past several hours. Castiel wasn't necessarily listening, though. Out of his peripheral vision, he'd seen a shift in the window. The curtains were drawn back, and he caught sight of the girl and her father dancing around the room. He could practically hear their joyous laughter, and felt an emotion he hadn't before. His being, all of him, was warm, and he wanted to laugh with them. Of course, that was too human. Castiel knew he would never be capable of laughter.