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Who: Daphne Allen [

marrying] and Castiel [

ofthursday
What: Daphne is blind and Castiel is her seeing eye angel. But only so much can entertain you when you're still getting used to the world around you -- and she has a lot of questions.
When: Night 138.
Where: House Team Free Will.
Rating: PG for schmoop.

Being blind was absolutely terrible.

She had tried to get along by herself four times today, in an attempt to make her way around the house in order to get to know the layout without her eyes. For the most part, she was pretty successful in picking out what rooms were what. She had even managed to get a bottle of water out of the refrigerator by herself. But her tiny victories were marred by her ineptitude, in that she had nearly killed herself getting out of the shower and accidentally burned herself on a stove that was apparently still hot (and the fact that she thought it was a table to balance herself on didn't help matters). As a result, the normally passive optimist was quickly growing frustrated and decided to sulk in her bed for awhile until Castiel returned home from where he had gone.

Once he had come home, though, her mood lifted significantly -- and after the mandatory lecture of trying to get along by herself and the retorted lecture of damage draining her injuries (which she insisted that he had healed), she was laying on their bed with her head resting against his legs, her fingers curled into his shirt to keep herself anchored. It must have been at least midnight, but she felt awake, her useless eyes staring up at the ceiling blankly before she spoke quietly.

"I'm sorry this is such a hindrance."

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He took her hand as she offered it, trying not to grip her fingers too tightly. He didn't know how to explain. He didn't know where to start.

"There was a war." He finally said, softly; he'd told her a little about it, but only as a brief mention in a summary of his past. "It was... Angels are all siblings. It was a civil war between us, and it was..." Awful. Horrible. It had been so violent, and it would have been disturbing even if they hadn't all known each other; if they hadn't had to kill people that'd known their entire existences.

"My side was losing, and we couldn't afford to. I was desperate and I made a mistake and it resulted in..." Again he couldn't finish, at least at first, and he had to try again. He felt like he had to tell her; some pressing, nagging feeling in his mind prompting him to be honest. If he just told her, what might happen when she found out someday wouldn't be haunting him. "I lost my mind. I killed so many people; angels, humans, others. I thought I was making the world better." He remembered, clearly, what he'd been thinking while he'd been 'God', but it was like it had been someone else entirely, or a dream. None of it lined up with how he thought now, and the disconnect was still frightening and confusing.

She was perfectly silent as he spoke, not daring to interrupt him even when he couldn't finish his sentences. And when he was finished, she wished he could see his face. He held so much emotion in how he held himself and in his eyes and without seeing any of it, she could only rely on how his voice sounded and how tightly he was holding her hand. She knew that this was difficult for him to talk about, but it was something more than that, more than just the traumatic events he was reliving, he was hesitant and tentative and afraid.

It took her a few more moments to realize that he was waiting for her reaction, which was probably why he was so afraid in the first place. And, truthfully, she didn't know how to react. A tiny sliver of her was disgusted -- murder in and and all instances is wrong, and for a woman who didn't even step on ants, Daphne couldn't rationalize the systemic killing of people, no matter what reasoning you were using. A larger part of her was hurting for him, because he was obviously carrying the burden of every single life he had taken, and he sounded so sad by the entire story.

But the majority of her wanted to make him feel better, to erase whatever fear he had of her -- what, leaving? Telling him to go away? She couldn't do that, not when she knew that he was a good person, inside and out. He didn't have to tell her the rest of the story for her to know that he struggled with everything he had done and that he had tried to do something good with what he was given. But even that line of thought was trouble and while Daphne wanted to tell him that it was okay, it wasn't, and she couldn't lie.

So instead of saying anything at all, she shifted to feel along his arms for his shoulders -- and once she found those, she wrapped her arms around him for a tight hug, pressing her face into his neck in some attempt to comfort him past saying something that he wouldn't believe anyway.

He was silent, just watching her, and because she was blind he didn't have to try to hide his emotions. It was clear on his face how distraught he was about everything that happened, and how he was sure she would react. She was so gentle and kind, and what he'd done was reprehensible to even those used to having to kill to survive.

When she finally moved to hug him he returned it, breathing shakily and leaning his head against hers, hugging her more tightly than usual. That she was hugging him was reassuring, but she wasn't speaking, and that was not; he knew it was because she didn't have anything she could say.

His fingers tightened against he back and then he forced himself to relax his grip a bit, not wanting to hurt her. "I'm sorry." He finally murmured, before he could even think about what he was saying. "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can ever do to fix any of this. I didn't want..." He didn't want her to have to bear any of this with him, or feel like she had to try to comfort him for the things he brought on himself.

He wished, not for the first time, that he'd never regained his memory at all.

It took her a long moment before she finally spoke, her voice soft as she spoke into his collar.

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

And she let go slightly, to move her hands tentatively to his face, pressing her fingers slightly into his temple. Her eyes were full of tears, but she was smiling faintly.

"Matthew 11:28 is my favorite."

"It would be." He said softly, after she'd finished the quote, and he leaned into her touch. Castiel raised his own hands to gently cover her hands with his, silent a few more moments before he spoke suddenly once again.

"I was trying to save the world, and I might have destroyed it in the process."

"They do say that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions," Daphne said quietly, running her thumb against his cheek, her nail gently running across the palm of his hand. "And even the best intentions can have dark consequences attached to them. What you did was wrong, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you were wrong to try. And your penance, to make it all well again, will come in time. You'll be forgiven just as everyone else will be for their mistakes."

She paused before she shifted forward, just enough to touch her forehead against his. It was by using that -- and by gently moving her hands a little lower, so she could feel where the very corners of his mouth were with her thumbs -- that she could lean forward to give him a soft and gentle kiss.

"You have such a warm and loving soul, Castiel," she murmured finally, keeping her forehead resting against his. "I wish you could see it the way that I do."

He didn't believe he would be forgiven, really, by anyone. Some of them might forget what he did, or convince themselves to accept it and move past, but forgiveness... There was no such thing for his actions, and he would have to live with them forever.

Even if everyone else truly forgave him, he would never forgive himself.

He let her kiss him but didn't respond to it, too despondent to bother. "I don't have a soul at all. I'm an angel." It wasn't just a fact, as it usually was, but he meant it in the metaphorical way as well. He was none of things she saw.

"Then that makes you even more special, Castiel, because you've learned to love regardless," Daphne whispered, pressing her thumbs into his cheeks, wishing she could see, convinced she could react better to what he needed if she could. "Sometimes I think that you love people so much that you forget to save a little bit of that love for yourself."

She shifted slightly, to put her arms around him a little more completely, her heart heavy and her voice soft.

"You don't believe me when I tell you that I love you anymore."

He last statement hurts somewhere in his chest, not really for himself, but because he knows it must upset her that he doesn't believe in her. But he can't.

"The only people who I believe ever loved me have eventually tried to kill me, or I have killed them. I don't want you to be either of those."

It's irrational, and stupid, but love is a twisted thing to him and it always ends in death or at least heartbreak. Some part of him is just wondering how long it will be before the same happens with Daphne.

She was quiet for a long moment as she digested that. She didn't know what to do about that -- because if she were honest, it hurt, that she was this ticking timebomb of disappointment waiting to happen. Her throat tightened, preventing speech for a few seconds, before she pressed her fingers against his temples, shaking her head slightly.

"I'm going to prove you wrong, because neither of those things are going to happen."

It was said evenly, but with a surprising amount of conviction, despite how quiet her voice was.

"I love you. You're going to have to come to terms with that."

"I would like to." He said softly, and it was true. He wanted to believe her, and he wanted her to be telling the truth, and he wanted this to work out. But he knew, looming over everything, what would happened at home. He knew how their story was going to end.

"You don't have a choice."

She moved forward to curl her fingers into his shoulders as she rested her chin on one, holding onto him as she tried to consider what to do. But she felt overwhelmed, with a heavy weight on her chest, because what could she do? If he didn't believe her, then he didn't believe her, and there wasn't much else she could do to prove it. It hurt, in a weirdly painful way that she hadn't experienced before, almost like someone had a hand on her insides and was squeezing so that she couldn't breathe, but she took in a deep breath to steel her nerves, her hands dropping to slide around his waist loosely.

"Life is a book of chapters. They have to end eventually."

It surprised her, how even her voice was, even though she wanted to cry.

"But it's not going to end because I stopped loving you. I promise."

"I know." He finally said softly, leaning his head against hers. He knew how it would end, and she was right; it wouldn't be because of her.

"It will be alright." Castiel wasn't sure why he said it, but he felt the need to reassure her; he raised his hands to gently hold her close. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry."

She sank into his arms slightly, letting out a long shuddering breath as she rested her cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I'll be okay. So will you."

There was nothing he could say to that that would be both encouraging and truthful, so instead he said nothing and just held her quietly. The only choice either of them had was to go forward, for better or worse, together while they could.

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