Dreamless

Castiel didn’t know how long he’d been an angel. He knew he was born, before even the stars were formed, out of the dark, with thousands upon thousands of his garrison. He remembers the cacophony, the voices of angels on one wavelength shaking him to his core. He remembers a sense of purpose and a voice telling him to organize the universe. His first task, he knew, was to help hang the stars. He used his grace, the stretch of one wing striking their fusions and setting them rotating in their galaxies.Or Castiel is falling. He doesn't like it very much.