2: Earth
Castiel is millions of years old. He watched the galaxies form, the stardust coalesce into stars and planets. He saw the Earth take shape from rock and gas, helped to guide it into place.
He was there as his father created the creatures that would eventually become humans, and when the order came down to love them, to revere them, Castiel did.
Years later, after an incursion into Hell that cost the lives of many of his siblings, he gripped the Righteous Man tight and raised him from Perdition, shoving his burning soul back into a mostly decomposed corpse and pumping it full of grace so that it could repair itself according to the genetic code still contained within its marrow and bone. He watched that restored human dig his way out of his own grave, his hands pushing through the earth and towards the sky.
He has stood by that human's side, protected him, died for him, even. And this—this is how he's repaid for his steadfast loyalty?
"Seriously, Cas," Dean says, shutting the car door loudly behind him. "Agent Lizzo? Lizzo?"
Castiel sometimes believes he's got Dean worked out, that he knows how to best please him. Other times…? He feels constantly two steps behind.
"You use rock aliases all the time, Dean. Lizzo is a gifted musician and—"
"No one's arguing with you there, dude," Dean interrupts, starting the car with a bassy rumble. "Chick plays a mean flute or whatever. I just mean that if we're gonna do this, keep working cases while we're waiting for Chuck to show his face, we gotta keep a lower profile, okay? Maybe someone less…mainstream?"
Castiel calls on the patience of the ages, narrowing his eyes at Dean as he pulls out into the street. "Who do you suggest, then?"
"I dunno, Cas, I thought Meta-douche dumped his load into your galaxy brain, or some shit?" When Castiel continues to stare into the side of his head, Dean glances over quickly, then gestures at the glove box in front of Castiel's knees. "Flick through the box of IDs in there. Sam's got plenty."
Castiel rolls his eyes again, reaching for the glove box. He may have been around for millennia, but has it all really been leading to this—being sassed by a mortal?
Some days, he really wonders.
