D/C BB: An Angel in Wonderland - Chapters One & Two

[anoradh]

Chapter One - Down the Well

Castiel was falling. It was not like before, when he had been losing his Grace and falling towards humanity. This was a literal fall. It was also a very long fall and it felt almost as slow as that other fall. He was lying on his back in empty air and staring up at what looked like a deep, dark well, through which he was falling. It was a very deep well indeed. It seemed almost endless. Castiel had tried looking down to try to gauge how much further he had to fall, but all that he could see was blackness. He had therefore given up that attempt and looked upwards instead. At the very top, there was a tiny pinprick of light, which Castiel assumed was the opening to the world outside. It looked like nothing more than a speck of white on a black surface. Assuming that it was the hole through which Castiel had fallen into the well, he must have been falling for quite some time in order for it to have become so distant. He only wished that he could remember how his fall had begun.

A fall as long as this leaves one plenty of time to think. The foremost thought on Castiel's mind was how he had ended up there. He really could not remember. One moment he had been a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, occupied in battle against Raphael’s forces; the next, he had found himself inside his vessel and falling down this well. He also seemed to be cut off from his angelic powers, though he could not understand how that could be. It was all highly disturbing, not to mention very perplexing. All that he could surmise was that it must have something to do with Dean and Sam. Everything in Castiel's life lately had something to do with Dean and Sam. The first thing that he should do, therefore, when this fall ended, was to get out of the well and go find his human friends.

Now that his mind had resolved on this course of action, it was free to focus on other things. For example, Castiel now had time to examine the well down which he was falling. It was a very strange well, not at all what one might have expected if one had never fallen down a well before - which, incidentally, Castiel had not. He did think, however, that there was a distinct possibility that this particular well would have seemed strange, even had he fallen down another well before.

It was not only that it was so very deep or that Castiel's fall was so very slow that made it strange. The walls were strange, as well. They were filled with bookshelves and cupboards. From what he could tell, many of these contained jars with perishables, such as different types of marmalade and jam. Castiel had never heard that humans liked to put up bookshelves and cupboards in their wells to store their food. He supposed it was cool enough down here to keep the food fresh, not to mention surprisingly dry for a well. However, he still thought that there must be better places for it. It seemed to him that it would require a great deal of effort to fetch the things that were being kept in the well.

There were also maps and pictures hanging on pegs here and there. Castiel could not think of what purpose they served, since no one would ever be likely to look at them. For one thing, the well was too dark for anyone to make them out properly. For another, as slowly as he was falling, Castiel was still falling past them too quickly to be able to study them. This was particularly frustrating, since Castiel suspected that they might otherwise have provided him with some clues as to his current predicament.

As he fell past one of the bookshelves, he reached out a hand to grab one of the books. When he looked at it, he discovered that it was a children's book. The author was someone named Lewis Carroll and the title of the book was Through the Looking-Glass. Castiel had never spent enough time on Earth to acquaint himself with many human works of fiction. This had proven to be a source of endless frustration, since Dean often liked to reference works of popular culture. Castiel thought, therefore, that he may as well avail himself of the time while he was falling to read as many books as he could, beginning with the one in his hand.

Of course, Castiel had no way of knowing whether this book even existed outside the well or if Dean had ever heard of it, but if not, at least he would be able to turn the tables on Dean and make references that he did not understand. In fact, as he began reading the book, he thought it quite likely that this was a special well-book. It was as peculiar as the rest of the well. The strangeness was partly due to the strangeness of the story, which Castiel still enjoyed immensely. It occurred to him that he must have changed in the time that he had known Dean, since he would not have been able to appreciate something so imaginative, and frankly ludicrous, before. Another part of the strangeness was the fact that the writing was all inverted. It presented no difficulty to an angel, of course, but a human would no doubt have required a mirror to read it.

By the time that Castiel had finished the book, he discovered that he would not have time to read another. This discovery was made in rather an abrupt fashion, by his landing suddenly in a heap of twigs and leaves at the bottom of the well. He stood up and put the book in one his trench-coat pockets. Then he brushed the leaves off his clothes and from his hair, and looked around.

It was still rather dark around him, but he could see a long passage stretching out before him. Since there seemed to be no other way out of the well without his powers, he began walking down it. He soon came to a rather sharp corner in the passage and behind it was a long, narrow hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the low ceiling. There were doors on both sides of the hall, but they were all locked.

At the end of the hall, there stood a glass table. On the table was a tiny, golden key and a small bottle, which had a label tied around its neck, on which was written the words "DRINK ME". Castiel was not in a habit of drinking unidentified liquids, so he ignored the bottle and its label. Instead he picked up the key, hoping that it would open one of doors leading out of the hall. He walked around the hall, looking for the right lock, but none of them were the right size for the key. They were all too big. With a sigh, Castiel returned to the table.

As he was standing there, thinking about what to do next, he heard a voice from somewhere below him. “You have to drink it,” it said, or rather slurred, in a somewhat high-pitched fashion.

Castiel looked down to find that a small rabbit was sitting at his feet. He was very cute and fluffy - not that Castiel would ever think in such terms - with a cottony tail, white fur, and long ears that were currently drooping. He was wearing a pinstripe jacket and a paisley waistcoat, and he was staring up at Castiel with a pitiful expression on his face. There was something familiar about that expression and without thinking, Castiel said, “Chuck?”

The Rabbit’s nose quivered, but the pitiful expression did not change. “The bottle,” he said and hiccuped. “You have to - hic - drink it.”

Castiel stared. “Are you drunk?” he asked. It seemed an easier question to ask than how it was that the prophet’s soul was now in the body of a rabbit.

At this, the Rabbit’s expression finally changed. He looked as though he was trying to scowl. “Maybe,” he said and hiccuped again. “I went to the Hatter’s tea-party, - hic! - but I don't think it was tea he was serving.” He hiccuped again. “He’s mad, you know,” he added.

Castiel blinked. “I see,” he said, although he did not.

“Look,” said the Rabbit, rising on his hind feet and swaying slightly, “are you going to drink or not?”

“What will it do?”

The Rabbit rolled his eyes. “You have to drink it to find out,” he said. He swallowed a burp and added thoughtfully, “Or was it to find a way out?” He hiccuped a few times. “You’ll find something out, at least, that much I do know.”

Castiel picked up the bottle and examined it suspiciously. It looked harmless enough, but without his powers he could not make sure. The only way to find out was to drink it. Hoping that whatever it was would not be able to hurt angels, he took a sip. It had a strange combination of flavors. Castiel thought that he could taste cherries, pineapples, vanilla and sugar, as well as some sort of poultry and bread. However, it did not seem to be harmful, so Castiel quickly drank the rest of liquid as well, while the rabbit watched him unsteadily.

For a long while, nothing seemed to happen. Castiel was just about to tell the Rabbit that he had certainly not found something out, when he realized that he was no longer looking down at the furry little creature. They were now roughly the same size; in fact, the Rabbit even seemed to be slightly taller. “Oh,” the Rabbit said. “Right. That’s what it did.”

Castiel looked around. Judging by the size of the objects around him, he guessed that he was about ten inches tall. It was certainly a lot smaller than his true size and he experienced a moment of reverse vertigo. Fortunately, he was in the habit of squeezing himself into smaller vessels, so it only took him a moment to adjust.

He turned back to the Rabbit. He was examining a gold chain that was attached to his waistcoat and hung from one of its pockets. As the Rabbit pulled at it, a pocket-watch slipped out and into his paw. “Ever had the feeling,” said the Rabbit despondently, “that you’re late for something, only you can’t remember what it is?”

Castiel thought about it for a moment. It was not a feeling that he was familiar with, so he told the Rabbit, “No.”

The Rabbit sighed. “No,” he said even more despondently. “I didn’t think so.” He stared at the watch morosely. “The door’s behind the curtain,” he said.

Castiel blinked. Then he looked around again. On one of the walls hung a low curtain, only now that Castiel was so small, it did not look very low at all. Castiel walked over to it and peered behind it. There was indeed a door there. Normally, it would have been too small for Castiel’s vessel to get through it, but now he was just the right size. He reached into his trench-coat pocket and took out the tiny key, which he had put there. It fit perfectly in the lock. Castiel unlocked the door, opened it, and walked through.

Chapter Two - A Mad Meeting

On the other side of the door, there was a beautiful garden. Everywhere Castiel looked, there were large beds of the bright flowers, tall, blossoming rose-trees and cool, rippling fountains. White footpaths of marble gravel crisscrossed the green grass. On either side of the paths grew hedges of huge rosebushes. The air was sweet and fragrant. It reminded Castiel of his home, of his Father’s garden, as perceived by many humans.

“‘scuse me,” said the Rabbit behind him. Castiel stepped aside to let him pass. “I really must be going.”

“Have you remembered what you were late for?” Castiel asked.

The Rabbit shook his head sadly and pulled at one of his ears. “Not yet,” he said, “but I imagine I’ll find out sooner or later.”

Castiel nodded. There did not seem to be anything to say. The Rabbit nodded too. He pulled out the pocket-watch again and looked at it. “Yes,” he said. “I must be going.” He peered around somewhat uncertainly, as if trying to decide where he ought to be going. Then he started hopping down one of the paths, moving in a wobbly zigzagging pattern.

Before he had got very far, however, he seemed to remember something. He turned back to look at Castiel again. “The Queen is that way,” he said, pointing at another path. Then he turned around again and hopped away. Castiel stood still and watched him, until he rounded a corner and vanished behind some bushes. Once he was out of sight, Castiel turned and began walking down the path which the Rabbit had pointed toward.

As Castiel walked, he carefully took in his surroundings. Most of what he saw was pleasing to the eye, but he soon became aware that something did not seem quite right. The bushes were obviously well-kept and they were trimmed to perfection. The flowers grew in perfectly symmetrical patterns and in just the right abundance on most of the bushes and trees. However, every now and again, Castiel passed a bush or a tree where some of the flowers seemed to be missing. He wondered if they had simply wilted or if someone, as it looked, had cut them off. Compared to all the other strange things that he had seen, this did not seem so very odd, but it made him wonder who it was that kept this garden so beautiful and why they had overlooked these flaws.

As he contemplated these things, Castiel continued along the winding path through the garden. Several times he reached places where his path crossed others, but he did his best to continue in the direction that the White Rabbit had indicated. He was approaching a bend in the path, when he was met with the first sign that he was not alone in the garden. From behind the bushes that hid the rest of the path from view, there came the sounds of many feet marching in a steady rhythm, while a militaristic voice barked out orders and directions. "Right, right, right left, right," it chanted, in between shouts of, "Keep the line straight, Seven!" and "Don't bend so, Three!" There was also the sound of voices chattering and the laughter of children.

The approach of what sounded like some sort of military forces should perhaps have worried Castiel, but he doubted that any army with an intention to fight would have brought children along with them. Instead, he felt relieved at these signs that he was not alone in the garden. There were so many questions that he had to ask and he hoped that whoever was coming around the bend would be able to answer at least some of them. The most urgent questions were of course where he was and how he could get back to Heaven, but there were many other things that he was curious about, as well. If nothing else, they should at least be able to point him in the direction of the Queen, who would probably be able to provide him with some answers.

He never got an opportunity to ask about any of it, however, because he was halted abruptly by two strong hands grabbing his arms. Before he knew what was happening, he was being dragged into the bushes that grew thickly to his right and held down by someone larger and stronger than himself. He opened his mouth to protest, but one of those strong, warm hands covered his lips to keep him silent. Then his assailant's face came into view and Castiel stopped struggling immediately.

Dean grinned down at him from where he was lying practically on top of Castiel. His green eyes were sparkling and his white teeth gleamed in the sunlight. On his head, he wore a tall, red top hat with a green ribbon. The hat was tilting slightly, no doubt from the tumble that he and Castiel had taken. Castiel had never seen Dean wear any form of head-wear before. He would not have guessed that this particular hat would be Dean's style. It fit in well with the strange surroundings, however, so if Dean was trying to blend in, the hat was certainly helping.



As had happened more and more often lately when Castiel was in Dean's presence, he began to feel slightly odd. His vessel felt warm, almost feverish, where Dean's body pressed against it, while the angelic essence that was his true being fluttered disturbingly. Castiel had never been able to explain the queer things that Dean made him feel. He suspected that if he took the time to really think about it, he would be able to find an explanation. The trouble was that he also suspected that the explanation would not make either him or Dean very happy, which was why he kept putting it off. Besides, there were usually more pressing issues on his mind, such as right now, when he was trying to figure out why Dean had tackled him into the bushes.

Dean put a finger to his lips to signal to Castiel that he should keep quiet and remain hidden from the people who were now walking past them on the path. Castiel felt very confused. He could not think of any reason why he should not be seen. Perhaps the owner of the garden did not like trespassers. Whatever the reason, he trusted Dean, so he simply nodded that he had understood. Dean grinned again and released him. Side by side, they crept up to the bushes and pushed some of the branches aside, so that they could see the procession that was passing. It was like no procession that Castiel had ever seen.

The soldiers rounded the corner first. It was their marching footsteps that Castiel had heard. They walked as soldiers usually did, with their heads held high, their backs straight, and with clubs slung over their shoulders. They had the heads, arms and legs of regular humans. However, their bodies were entirely square, flat and made out of cardboard. In short, they were playing cards. They walked in three rows with three soldiers in each and the Ace of Clubs marched beside them, barking out his orders. Castiel could not help but wish that Raphael's soldiers had been like these. Then all he would have needed to defeat them would have been one good rainstorm.

After the soldiers came what Castiel could only assume were the courtiers. They were covered all over with diamonds, both as part of their suits and in their jewelery. They were talking quietly with each other, looking haughty and grave. Dean would no doubt have said that they looked dull and stupid, if he had not insisted on silence.

After them came the children, whose laughter Castiel had heard. They were skipping and dancing, hand in hand, and their suits were all covered with hearts. They were walking in front of a group of Kings, Queens and other, non-cardboard creatures. The White Rabbit was among them, looking guilty and nervous. Castiel assumed that he had at last remembered what he had been late for. There was also a finely dressed woman, whose face bore a remarkable resemblance to the demon that Sam and Dean called Meg.

Behind the Kings and Queens walked a single card man - the Knave of Hearts. He was walking proudly, carrying a crown on a crimson velvet cushion. He looked like the vessel of Balthazar, Castiel's old friend and ally. Behind him came another two figures, bringing up the rear of the procession. They were the King and Queen of Hearts, but they were also two beings that could not possibly be there. Castiel knew for a fact that they were both dead. Admittedly, he had not been present for either death, but that did not make him any less certain of their fates. Dean had killed one of them during their failed attempt to rescue his and Sam's brother Adam from the angels. Michael had killed the other to keep her from obliterating Sam's entire existence. And yet, here they were, Zachariah and Anna, walking arm in arm. Whoever had brought all this about was obviously far more powerful than Castiel had suspected.

Castiel stared after them, his head spinning, until he could no longer keep track of them through the branches. Then he withdrew from the bush and sat down heavily on the ground. There was a thump as Dean came to sit beside him, still grinning. Castiel got the sense that there was something off about his grin and his movements, but he could not quite put his finger on what it was.

"Man," Dean said, "that was close! What were you thinking, walking straight at them like that?"

Castiel frowned. "I was looking for the Queen," he replied. "The White Rabbit told me where I could find her."

Dean stared at him incredulously. "You were looking for the Queen?" he repeated. Then he burst into laughter, shaking his head. Castiel recognized this laughter. It was how Dean always laughed when Castiel had done something to show his ignorance of something that Dean considered obvious. For some reason, it had lately begun to make Castiel's cheeks feel uncomfortably hot.

"No, no, no," Dean said. "You don't go looking for the Queen. Not unless you've been summoned and even then you do your best to avoid it. Everybody knows that. Just be glad the Cheshire Cat told us what you were up to and that I was able to interpret him correctly, for once. Damn Cat and his riddles!"

"I don't understand," Castiel said, because he did not. "Why doesn't anyone want to look for the Queen?"

"Because," Dean said, lying back on the grass, "people tend to lose their heads around her." He grinned up at Castiel again, looking almost expectant, as if he was waiting for some reaction. Castiel would have loved to give it to him, but he was not sure what it was. It seemed to him as if Dean expected him to be amused by his comment, but Castiel did not understand the joke. He knew better than to take the comment literally, but unless Dean's amusement was over some embarrassing blunder that someone had committed when in the Queen's presence, he could not guess what was supposed to be funny.

Apparently his confusion was obvious, because Dean rolled his eyes, as he so often did when Castiel failed to produce the expected reaction. "You're really not from around here, are you?" he said.

"No," Castiel replied. "I'm really not." His voice may have been slightly sharper than he intended it to be, but he was really beginning to feel weary of ending up in places where so little made sense to him. First Earth with its strange human customs that he was just beginning to comprehend, and now this place that he did not even know where or what it was. It was really very frustrating.

Fortunately, Dean did not seem to mind his tone. Instead he merely raised himself on his elbows and eyed Castiel appraisingly for a moment. Then he said, "Guess you'll need a guide, then. To keep you from doing anything even more stupid."

"Thank you," Castiel said. He was only half-sincere. While he did appreciate Dean's offer, he did not appreciate his condescension.

"You're welcome," Dean said, ignoring his sarcasm. "I can't have people going around losing their heads, can I? Wouldn't be good for business." He grinned again, one of those strange grins, and Castiel suddenly realized what seemed off about him.

"You're drunk," he said.

Dean shrugged. "Drunk - mad," he said. "It's all semantics." He sat up and held out his hand. "I'm the Hatter."

Castiel looked down at his hand, but did not take it. He was feeling increasingly confused. "You're Dean," he said. For some reason it felt important to him to assert this fact.

Now it was Dean's turn to frown. "What's a dean?" he asked, lowering his hand. "Is that a courtly title? Like the Duchess? 'Cause I'm not at court.” He bit his lip, then grinned again and added, “Although I do make their hats.”

Castiel shook his head. He felt as if they were having two different conversations. Admittedly, he often felt like that around Dean, but that did not make it any less aggravating. "No," he said. "It's not a title. It's a name. Your name."

Dean, or the man who looked like him, shook his head. "No," he said slowly, after giving it some thought. "No, I don't think so. I'm pretty sure I'm just the Hatter. We don't use names around here. Except the White Rabbit. He's named all his servants: Bill, Pat and Mary Ann. But that's just because he loves words, even ones that don't mean anything. Especially ones that don't mean anything, if you ask me. The rest of us have no use for names. They're too vague. How are you supposed to know anything about someone if all you have is a name? For example, I'm sure you have a name?" He gave Castiel a questioning look.

"Yes," Castiel said. "It's Castiel."

"Right," Dean - the Hatter - said. "And what am I supposed to make of that? On the other hand, if you tell me what you are...?"

"I'm an Angel of the Lord."

The Hatter wrinkled his nose. "No," he said, "that really doesn't tell me anything more. I don't think I've ever heard of an Angel before. You must be the first one ever to come to Wonderland. What is that you do? And which Lord is it that you serve?"

Castiel was not sure how to answer this. There was really no simple answer. He ignored the Hatter's questions, therefore, and asked one of his own instead. "What is Wonderland?"

The Hatter sat up and gestured to their surroundings. "This," he said. “Everything around us.” He gave Castiel a look that was surprisingly sharp for someone so inebriated. “You didn't know?”

Castiel shook his head. "No," he said. "I had no idea where I was."

The Hatter snorted. “And I thought I was the drunk one,” he said. "I usually know where I am, even if I don't always remember how I got there. Speaking of which, do you know how you got here?"

"I fell. Down a well."

"You fell down a well?” the Hatter repeated incredulously. “Seriously? How in the name of the Seven Wonders did you manage that?”

"I don't know," Castiel said honestly. "I just woke up and I was falling."

"Oh." The Hatter seemed as bemused by this as Castiel was. "Can't say I've heard that one before. Well, I do know about waking up in strange places, obviously, and I've done my fair share of falling, but the part about waking up in the middle of a fall is new.” He frowned. “Where were you before you fell?”

“In Heaven,” Castiel said.

“I see,” the Hatter said, but his face very clearly contradicted him. It was obvious that he was beginning to suspect that Castiel was the insane one. “You were in Heaven.”

“Yes.”

“And then you were falling?”

“Yes.”

"Oh." The Hatter blinked. “Well, they do say that the higher you are, the farther you fall, and you can't get much higher than Heaven.” Castiel considered correcting him, by telling him that Heaven was not actually located that high up; it was not really located in any direction, but the Hatter spoke again before he could say anything. “Have you fallen from Heaven before?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, thinking of the time when he had been losing his Grace, “but not like this.”

“No,” the Hatter said, “I shouldn’t think so. It doesn't exactly seem like the kind of thing you'd do more than once.” He was silent again, obviously thinking it all over. Finally, he asked, “So how are you going to get back up there?”

“I don't know,” Castiel said.

“But you do want to get back?”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “I have to. I am needed there.”

"Right.” The Hatter sighed. “Well, then, come on," he said, getting to his feet. He held out a hand to Castiel. Castiel took it and the Hatter pulled him to his feet. "I'll take you to my house and introduce you to my friends. Impossible problems is sort of our thing." He shook his head, as he put an arm around Castiel's shoulders and led him away from the path. “Fell down a well,” he said, “from Heaven. Dude, you're going to fit right in here.”

Chapters Three and Four