child of michael.

he is crime.

you are punishment.

his body as an offering to the cold blade. to duty that upholds him. the grace that burdens him. no soul would know the violence it took for him to become this gentle nor the reason of the morbidity that cross his eyes as the world burns.

he cannot seem to contort himself back into the shape of a dutiful child he once was. he is unraveled. you are undone, a snake baring it's fangs, breaking him unimaginably by siding with metatron.

castiel spun around. breath erratic. eyes are wild as he swept a knife off the counter, held it on the level of his eye, sharply aimed at you. our knives swung. clashing his against yours, barely missing his eye, blocking your wrist with his as he rushed forward, forced you back as you then pulled out your angel blade with your other hand, to stab his kidney— he caught it, a disapproving growl slipped off his lips.

he locked his jaw, pushing the blades to your throat and delivered a swift kick to your abdomen, enough to send you back, your back crashed on the counter's edge. he came for you, you grabbed a scale and struck him across the face, sending him to the floor.

he rolled to a crouch, slashing your hip— his breath hitched as you stabbed him, twice. he caught the third, gripping the blade tight. eyes glows, baring bloodied teeth to one another, strength wavering— he roared, moving his head away in time as the blade plants on the concrete with brute, making the floor beneath him crack.

wings flared against one another, the floor gave out and their bodies fell, crashing down the aquariums below, crushing it, water flooding the floor marred with specks, shards and gasping fishes.

air banged off his lungs and sucked back in. he goes up, straddling you, squeezing your neck, pummeling your face flat with his palm and swipes for his angel blade— you swings, blood spurts out his mouth, the shrapnel embedded on the side of his neck, he slam the angel blade down, you blocks.

his tears fell, heartbroken.

"i trusted you."