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The Wind and the Sea

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In his true form, Castiel was like the sea. Calm and endless and deep, oh so deep. His grace reflecting every light, no matter how faint, in a million different colours.

Balthazar liked to think of himself as the wind, carefree and playful, but also restless, and occasionally turning into a storm, crushing everything in his way.

From the moment they were created, Balthazar loved to tease the calm surface of the sea. He laughed happily at the way it rippled under his feathery touch, and he watched the perfectly symmetrical forms spread out into the farthest, most secret regions of his brother's essence, knowing that no one else could reach them the way he did.

When the waves started to rise, and deep blue turned almost black, Balthazar knew he'd gone too far, and he would start whispering soothing little prayers in a language unknown to men or any other earthly creature, until Castiel's grace was pulsing once again in a warm, steady rhythm underneath a surface smooth as glass but soft as the early morning mist, throwing a veil over the land and giving Balthazar the illusion that there was nothing else but eternity and the two of them. Giving and taking. Trust, and intimate touch, and familar reaction. And usually that was enough.

But sometimes, Balthazar felt an almost unbearable urge to break the surface and just dive in, deeper and deeper, to find those places that not even he could reach, and that he just knew contained wonders beyond anything he could imagine. But he never dared. Instead, Balthazar would fly up to the stars, to fetch them, to bring them down, closer to his brother, so he could see their silver mix with his midnight blue.

Then the war came, and the sea was stirred by a different kind of storm, dark and merciless, Balthazar fought with everything he had, but he felt himself being tossed about and away, his grace carressing Castiel's one last time, unnoticed in the crashing of waves and the rolling of thunder.

When the last traces of blue and silver disappeared in the distance, Balthazar turned around and fled, never to look back. Clinging to his own volatile nature with a desperation that contradicted itself, he tried to forget that time and place he knew was lost forever.