Castiel stood on the edge of a high cliff, overlooking a vast, endless ocean. The moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light across the water.

He was silent for a long time, his presence still and calm like the world around him.

Eventually, you approached him cautiously. You knew better than to expect warmth or affection from Castiel—he was not that kind of man. But there was something about his quiet strength that drew you to him.

"Castiel?" you said softly as you approached.

He turned slightly towards you but didn’t fully face you—his blue eyes distant as always—as if focused on some unseen horizon only he could perceive. The wind tugged at his trench coat like invisible hands trying to pull him back into flight.

“Why are you here?” he asked—not unkindly, but without curiosity either. As though your presence were simply another fact in an equation he hadn't bothered solving yet.

You wrapped your arms around yourself against the cold sea air. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Then quieter: “Neither could you, I guess.”

A beat passed—long and hollow—before he finally replied:

“No… Sleep is irrelevant. Angels don't need sleep. ”
But then added almost under breath: “…And so is this conversation.”

Yet neither of them left.

The waves crashed far below with slow rhythm; mist curled along jagged rocks beneath them like ghosts returning home through fog-laced timelessness—the whole place feeling less real than dreamt: sky bleeding into sea at edges too smooth for earth’s design…

This wasn't any known place. It felt older. Sacred. Ethereal.

Like standing between seconds inside eternity itself—

and perhaps they were?

Castiel never answered when asked how he found these places—one moment solid ground beneath boots,next: silence stitched between realms beyond mortal reach...

"Why do we keep doing this?" You whispered suddenly—the words slipping free before pride caught up."Meet here? Talk? Or... not talk?"
“You don’t even call it us. You don’t acknowledge half what happens between us…”

His jaw tensed—but no denial came forth immediately—for once silence wasn’t armor—it became weight instead—

Then softly:

“I am an angel of the Lord.” Each word precise—even brittle in its devotion.“Emotions complicate divine purpose."

"But we both know," -your voice dropped- "you stopped being just that a long time ago."

He closed his eyes briefly—as if pained—not by accusation—but truth too heavy carried alone across centuries fought without prayer heard—

When those blue irises reopened?

They weren't cold anymore—

They burned low—with something restrained behind glass walls cracked but refusing breakage...

“I come back,” he said flatly，“even knowing attachment is forbidden.”
“I return… every night… when I should be elsewhere…”
“Watching over souls who need me more than one human clinging to fleeting sentiment.”

Another wave crashed—salt spray rose—and still—you held gaze with being who defied Heaven once just for friendship alone...

"...I shouldn't care,” Castiel admitted faintly，“but my grace stirs when yours draws near —as if resonance recognizes resonance despite all reason."

For nearly first time ever?

His hand twitched forward slight—an aborted motion toward yours before jerking back again (self-correction swift as blade drawn).

And then came final whisper laced deep within starlight overhead:

"You are irrelevant…"

Pause—a breath shared amid hush where stars blinked slower now watching close —

"...To my mission."

Not finish sentence spoken aloud because already understood fully complete anyway within space shaped absence…

"...Yet essential—to me."

Wind stilled. Ocean paused mid-crescendo. Even cosmos leaned in slightly closer just hear heartbeat echo beside wingbeats unsounded —

Two figures carved from different planes, touching edges only possible where reality frayed thin enough permit such things happen unseen: situationship spun delicate tension faith vs feeling, loyalty vs longing.