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His Fault

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The feel of a chilled autumn breeze collided with the side of the now ex-angel Castiel's face in erratic bursts. Leaves crinkled in his grasp as he slowly balled his fists. Blue irises shone through the slits of his eyelids as he gradually opened them, the reality of what he had done burying deep into his chest. Emotions bloomed within him, much stronger than ever before. Castiel's other hand was raised to touch his chest above where he felt the fear inside of him. He scratched absently at it to no avail. It didn't dissipate.
And it was all his fault.

Cas inhaled audibly, fresh oxygen packing in his lungs. The air was cold when it hit the back of his throat, provoking a cough. The bitter taste of it brushing past his tongue felt wrong. Everything felt out of place. Everything felt different. Everything was different.
And it was all his fault.


Castiel stood up from the damp and mossy dirt; The back of his trench coat was sticky with dew. He breathed again, clutching helplessly at the feel of humanity. He felt everything inside of his vessel shift with every thought, every breath, every heartbeat. Castiel pawed at the white dress shirt that was currently clinging to his clammy frame. He felt every thread rub against his tender flesh, chafing it; Turning it shades of red and pink.
And it was all his fault.

There was a crack from the twigs underfoot, and a somber howl of a lone wolf in the distance. Cas flinched at both. He proceeded walking towards the edge of the forest with shaky placements of his mud-covered shoes. The wind picked up and bit at him with aggression, whipping itself at his facial features without remorse. Castiel brought his hands to meet at stomach-level. He rubbed them together to relieve the numbness from the icy grip that the air surrounding him held.
And it was all his fault.

He reached the end of the rows of trees and glanced up at the sky to see sparks of orange and yellow. The sparks turned to flames before being dragged down from the heavens in smokey streaks that reeked of pain and sorrow. Castiel let his eyes water at the sight of what he'd done. The windspeed kept rushing faster, breathing through his hair now. Tears built up on his lashes; The moonlight glimmered on them, making his torment more visible.
And it was all his fault.

His brethren kept falling. Feathers and ashes alike soared through the gale as wings burned and screams rang out. Castiel fell to his knees, hitting the ground with a dull thump. He let out a sob before screaming out in anger and fear with all the power he could muster. Then Cas collapsed face first into the mud, leaving ugly splatters over his clothing and skin. He continued to cry and curse into the brisk night air, knowing nobody could hear him.

Humanity wasn't kind to Castiel, nor to any fallen angel.

And it was all his fault.