[ If he has to roll his eyes again, he fears they might fall out of his head. So what if the angel is impatient? Obviously he couldn't understand if he has to explain. Castiel doesn't realize he's confusing everything he'd said last night, or he would have corrected him. Dean's gone, yes, but it has nothing to do with Michael (apparently) and that's all there is to it. In addition to the topic of their grace. All that power, and he won't share it with him, won't fix what had simply fallen away from him when the angels had deserted their posts. He draws in a breath, quiet and forcing the harsh tone of his voice away. ]
Yes. [ He'd lost track of it last night though. ] I want your grace.
[ It's not about giving this body that's entirely his to the angel as a spare vessel. It's not about anything else but selfish reasons that stem from a purpose (or lack thereof). He's upfront about it to save the complications; if he'd had it from the beginning, perhaps Dean would still be here. Maybe all the mistakes he's made wouldn't have been so... great. Castiel looks to the angel and offers nothing else. ]
[ Castiel has come up with his fair share of ideas lacking creativity, particularly in this season, but this is definitely the worst idea ever. How the hell does someone even share his grace in the first place -- because clearly that is what his future self is asking. Either that, or he's asking the impossible -- to give it over to him entirely.
But that would be incredibly short sighted. Stupid, even. Who even does that? ]
[ Because he's not laughing. If anything, he's more serious about this than anything he's ever been in a long time, and he shifts to situate himself better, almost a mimic of the angel as he leans forward with his arms resting on his thighs. ] We are the same. Surely it wouldn't be too difficult to share.
[ He's being generous giving him that particular choice. He'd wanted everything, but even a touch of grace is better than nothing at all. ]
[ He's just about offended that he's even having this conversation with his future self, and half-wonders if some substance had done lasting damage to his cognitive functions or... judgment or something. Of course, this offense does not seem to extend to the reverse -- which he points out. ]
In theory, I could possess you... but what you are suggesting -- It has never been done before.
[ It's a frustrated noise that follows, wishing to be close enough to shake the angel. That isn't what he's asking, and it should be painfully obvious. For once, he's thinking clearly. Even if he doesn't feel it's hardly necessary anymore. ] Maybe not. [ Quiet agreement, and he looks at him. ] But that doesn't make it impossible.
[ He isn't going to beg, but he won't stop asking either. ]
[ An experiment, basically... and one that sounds completely off the rails and that pretty much confirms the angel's suspicions. He drops his gaze, resigning himself to that being a reality -- that he's seen his future and it's... this.
This destitution in more ways than he knows how to deal with. All he can do is shake his head, and get to his feet and push past this insanity toward a more fruitful topic. Which means yes, he's dismissing this idea of his entirely. ]
On my way back, I stopped at the pharmacy.
[ It wasn't his idea, he would have otherwise just scrubbed his body clean of any substances and left him dry. Castiel extends his hand and holds out a bottle of pills. The label reads these are meant to be taken twice daily to treat anxiety. ]
I am told these help with certain... imbalances. Try not to abuse them.
[ It wouldn't have to be if he cooperated, if he tried. Is it because he's scared to test the theory? Or is it that he cares so little for himself that he'd allow Castiel to continue in his misery without so much as a gesture of goodwill? He doesn't know which is worse now: feeling as if some other part of yourself can't stand you or is simply medicating you to shut you up.
He takes one glance at them, staring at the label and feeling... angry. Offended. Castiel unwinds himself and reaches out as if to take them before hitting the angel's hand to knock them onto the floor. ]
Don't try that with me, Castiel. [ His tone is sharp. ] I know you better than anyone else. It's not going to work.
[ Being dismissed or ignored. He's not going to sit back and accept it any longer. ] Consider it - that's all I ask.
[ Castiel lifts his eyes toward the ceiling, irritation plain on his face despite having a limited range of expressions to begin with. The bottle clatters to some dark corner of the room and he makes no effort to retrieve it.
It's not that he doesn't care. One doesn't tuck someone into bed and bring them cold breakfast because they are indifferent about someone's well-being. Castiel is just not well equipped to handle what appears to him to be a worst case scenario -- a human him and a broken version at that. ]
You need help. And I -- I don't know how to give it to you. [ Castiel announces, his tone hardened with frustration but he at least levels his gaze down on him. ] I wouldn't even know where to begin this... this experiment of yours.
[ He had been for a while now. Granted, most of it had been a rather inebriated excuse that did not warrant any real understanding, but they are here now, together in his room and speaking on - what he wishes to be - equal terms. Castiel shifts so that he's sitting on the edge of the bed this time, leaning forward and dropping his voice as if it's some great secret that no one else should overhear despite being the only ones in the room. ] We try until we find a way. There is no right or wrong if it's never been done before, and we can use that to our advantage.
[ Besides, the starting point is easy: the angel's grace. Everything else is just trial and error. ]
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Yes. [ He'd lost track of it last night though. ] I want your grace.
[ It's not about giving this body that's entirely his to the angel as a spare vessel. It's not about anything else but selfish reasons that stem from a purpose (or lack thereof). He's upfront about it to save the complications; if he'd had it from the beginning, perhaps Dean would still be here. Maybe all the mistakes he's made wouldn't have been so... great. Castiel looks to the angel and offers nothing else. ]
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[ Castiel has come up with his fair share of ideas lacking creativity, particularly in this season, but this is definitely the worst idea ever. How the hell does someone even share his grace in the first place -- because clearly that is what his future self is asking. Either that, or he's asking the impossible -- to give it over to him entirely.
But that would be incredibly short sighted. Stupid, even. Who even does that? ]
Is this some kind of joke?
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[ Because he's not laughing. If anything, he's more serious about this than anything he's ever been in a long time, and he shifts to situate himself better, almost a mimic of the angel as he leans forward with his arms resting on his thighs. ] We are the same. Surely it wouldn't be too difficult to share.
[ He's being generous giving him that particular choice. He'd wanted everything, but even a touch of grace is better than nothing at all. ]
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[ He's just about offended that he's even having this conversation with his future self, and half-wonders if some substance had done lasting damage to his cognitive functions or... judgment or something. Of course, this offense does not seem to extend to the reverse -- which he points out. ]
In theory, I could possess you... but what you are suggesting -- It has never been done before.
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[ It's a frustrated noise that follows, wishing to be close enough to shake the angel. That isn't what he's asking, and it should be painfully obvious. For once, he's thinking clearly. Even if he doesn't feel it's hardly necessary anymore. ] Maybe not. [ Quiet agreement, and he looks at him. ] But that doesn't make it impossible.
[ He isn't going to beg, but he won't stop asking either. ]
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This destitution in more ways than he knows how to deal with. All he can do is shake his head, and get to his feet and push past this insanity toward a more fruitful topic. Which means yes, he's dismissing this idea of his entirely. ]
On my way back, I stopped at the pharmacy.
[ It wasn't his idea, he would have otherwise just scrubbed his body clean of any substances and left him dry. Castiel extends his hand and holds out a bottle of pills. The label reads these are meant to be taken twice daily to treat anxiety. ]
I am told these help with certain... imbalances. Try not to abuse them.
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He takes one glance at them, staring at the label and feeling... angry. Offended. Castiel unwinds himself and reaches out as if to take them before hitting the angel's hand to knock them onto the floor. ]
Don't try that with me, Castiel. [ His tone is sharp. ] I know you better than anyone else. It's not going to work.
[ Being dismissed or ignored. He's not going to sit back and accept it any longer. ] Consider it - that's all I ask.
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It's not that he doesn't care. One doesn't tuck someone into bed and bring them
coldbreakfast because they are indifferent about someone's well-being. Castiel is just not well equipped to handle what appears to him to be a worst case scenario -- a human him and a broken version at that. ]You need help. And I -- I don't know how to give it to you. [ Castiel announces, his tone hardened with frustration but he at least levels his gaze down on him. ] I wouldn't even know where to begin this... this experiment of yours.
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[ He had been for a while now. Granted, most of it had been a rather inebriated excuse that did not warrant any real understanding, but they are here now, together in his room and speaking on - what he wishes to be - equal terms. Castiel shifts so that he's sitting on the edge of the bed this time, leaning forward and dropping his voice as if it's some great secret that no one else should overhear despite being the only ones in the room. ] We try until we find a way. There is no right or wrong if it's never been done before, and we can use that to our advantage.
[ Besides, the starting point is easy: the angel's grace. Everything else is just trial and error. ]