Daryl's gaze remained on Castiel's, but his body was shaking. Hard eyes blinking and unsure. Not at Castiel's words, but at Athena's.
(She'd been made. A doll or a puppet or something that was meant to look human but wasn't real. Turned real when she got here. Just starting to feel. Looked at Daryl like he was made of gold and the wings on his back weren't as dirty as the mountains he'd grown up in. Like they was as heavenly as the man he was holding claimed to be. Gave him hope when it was hard to hold onto. She was hurt by this. He'd hurt her. He didn't want to hurt her. He didn't know how not to. He wasn't worth what she was giving him with those eyes and that trust. All he was doing was tarnishing the light inside her.)
He sucked in a breath, hand tightening for a long moment before he broke the gaze and dropped his head. He stepped back, hand still fisted in Castiel's coat. It took him another few seconds to suck in a few breaths and relax his hand enough that he could unclench his fingers. Whether he liked it or not, he needed the physical connection of touching Cas on the chest. The literal, physical support. He was shaking too much.
When he did let his hand drop, he swayed just a bit. Drained from everything that had happened. Still, he was shaking his head. Trying to get moisture to a dry mouth as he croaked out his words.]
Didn't say he weren't real.
[Daryl's voice, though cracking some, was very gentle. Pleading almost. Trying to make his words as much as an apology as anything else.]
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you moved your commentDaryl's gaze remained on Castiel's, but his body was shaking. Hard eyes blinking and unsure. Not at Castiel's words, but at Athena's.
(She'd been made. A doll or a puppet or something that was meant to look human but wasn't real. Turned real when she got here. Just starting to feel. Looked at Daryl like he was made of gold and the wings on his back weren't as dirty as the mountains he'd grown up in. Like they was as heavenly as the man he was holding claimed to be. Gave him hope when it was hard to hold onto. She was hurt by this. He'd hurt her. He didn't want to hurt her. He didn't know how not to. He wasn't worth what she was giving him with those eyes and that trust. All he was doing was tarnishing the light inside her.)
He sucked in a breath, hand tightening for a long moment before he broke the gaze and dropped his head. He stepped back, hand still fisted in Castiel's coat. It took him another few seconds to suck in a few breaths and relax his hand enough that he could unclench his fingers. Whether he liked it or not, he needed the physical connection of touching Cas on the chest. The literal, physical support. He was shaking too much.
When he did let his hand drop, he swayed just a bit. Drained from everything that had happened. Still, he was shaking his head. Trying to get moisture to a dry mouth as he croaked out his words.]
Didn't say he weren't real.
[Daryl's voice, though cracking some, was very gentle. Pleading almost. Trying to make his words as much as an apology as anything else.]
But he ain't an angel. He cain't be.