"Calm yo tits". It's a synonym for "slow yo roll".
Title: Death's Other Kingdom (4/?)
Pairing: eventual Destiel, implied Calthazar if you squint
Rating: PG
As it happens, very little is needed of Castiel. So many of his brothers and sister have died, almost all more powerful than he, and the brunt of the work falls to them. He has little to offer in assistance, even if a single denizen of purgatory were willing to speak to him.
Aside from Gabriel, of course, who spontaneously materializes from time to time, seemingly only to bother him.
Once, he is certain he glimpses Balthazar, from the corner of his eye, but when he turns, there is only the nothingness of Purgatory again.
He does not expect a chance to make amends. But he does wish for it.
Finally, the spell is ready. They are working with makeshift blood magic, twisted around somewhat to compensate for the insubstantial reality of Purgatory. Angels and demons exist in more than one plane to begin with, though. The properties found in their blood are still present without the physical form.
It is, however, significantly more draining to squeeze the necessary fuel directly from their essence than it is to simply bloodlet.
Castiel has so little to offer, but he pours it out, anyway.
They wrap a massive network of sigils around the border of Purgatory, symbols as ancient and powerful as any creature in this place can recall. Castiel drains all that he can spare into the frothing currents, the trenches they have dug into the fabric of this reality and filled with the power offered by angels, demons, pagan Gods, and every monster ever to walk the night.
They activate the spell in stages. The first stage twists the edges of Purgatory off into two corners; narrow funnels aimed at the only two available destinations. It is taxing to perform, requiring the cooperation of every soul and grace available.
Either someone is an excellent negotiator, or Heaven and Hell have finally found something to agree on.
It is immediately apparent that the spell has worked, as the immaterial grounds they stand on are violently rearranged. This is the most powerful magic Castiel has ever worked, on earth, or anywhere else. The repercussions are suitably climactic.
Gabriel visits him before they begin the second wave, and when he appears, Castiel catches the briefest glimpse of Balthazar, hovering in Gabriel’s wake.
“Hey,” Gabriel says, uncharacteristically somber, “You did good, there, kiddo.”
Castiel sighs, “I did all I could. Others did far more.”
“Cas, I’m trying to be supportive and shit, here. Try and play along.”
“Apologies,” Castiel mutters, almost smiling.
“What I’m trying to say is,” Gabriel pauses, swallows, looks away, “I’m rooting for you. This next part is gonna be rough, on all of us. Just hang in there. You’ll be fine.”
“I will not.” Castiel tells him, certain.
“Oh, come on, Boy Wonder. Keep it together, now.”
“No,” Castiel meets his older brother’s eyes, “I have killed so many, I have dealt with devils, and I have loosed the Leviathan. I know where I will be going when we complete this spell.”
For once, Gabriel seems at a loss for words. He leans in toward Castiel, brushes his shoulder hesitantly, forces a weak laugh. "If it's any consolation, Cas, I'm sure you're not the only one."
Castiel cannot share in this show of good humor.
"Balthazar," he murmurs, a hint of desperation coloring his voice, wetting his eyes, "Tell me Balthazar will not share in my punishment."
Gabriel does laugh at that, genuine, if bitter. "Yeah, not really who I was worried about, bro."
Castiel's face softens and he leans against the archangel. He has nothing to offer to that.
The two lost and dead angels separate, and then they finish the spell.
Pairing: eventual Destiel, implied Calthazar if you squint
Rating: PG
As it happens, very little is needed of Castiel. So many of his brothers and sister have died, almost all more powerful than he, and the brunt of the work falls to them. He has little to offer in assistance, even if a single denizen of purgatory were willing to speak to him.
Aside from Gabriel, of course, who spontaneously materializes from time to time, seemingly only to bother him.
Once, he is certain he glimpses Balthazar, from the corner of his eye, but when he turns, there is only the nothingness of Purgatory again.
He does not expect a chance to make amends. But he does wish for it.
Finally, the spell is ready. They are working with makeshift blood magic, twisted around somewhat to compensate for the insubstantial reality of Purgatory. Angels and demons exist in more than one plane to begin with, though. The properties found in their blood are still present without the physical form.
It is, however, significantly more draining to squeeze the necessary fuel directly from their essence than it is to simply bloodlet.
Castiel has so little to offer, but he pours it out, anyway.
They wrap a massive network of sigils around the border of Purgatory, symbols as ancient and powerful as any creature in this place can recall. Castiel drains all that he can spare into the frothing currents, the trenches they have dug into the fabric of this reality and filled with the power offered by angels, demons, pagan Gods, and every monster ever to walk the night.
They activate the spell in stages. The first stage twists the edges of Purgatory off into two corners; narrow funnels aimed at the only two available destinations. It is taxing to perform, requiring the cooperation of every soul and grace available.
Either someone is an excellent negotiator, or Heaven and Hell have finally found something to agree on.
It is immediately apparent that the spell has worked, as the immaterial grounds they stand on are violently rearranged. This is the most powerful magic Castiel has ever worked, on earth, or anywhere else. The repercussions are suitably climactic.
Gabriel visits him before they begin the second wave, and when he appears, Castiel catches the briefest glimpse of Balthazar, hovering in Gabriel’s wake.
“Hey,” Gabriel says, uncharacteristically somber, “You did good, there, kiddo.”
Castiel sighs, “I did all I could. Others did far more.”
“Cas, I’m trying to be supportive and shit, here. Try and play along.”
“Apologies,” Castiel mutters, almost smiling.
“What I’m trying to say is,” Gabriel pauses, swallows, looks away, “I’m rooting for you. This next part is gonna be rough, on all of us. Just hang in there. You’ll be fine.”
“I will not.” Castiel tells him, certain.
“Oh, come on, Boy Wonder. Keep it together, now.”
“No,” Castiel meets his older brother’s eyes, “I have killed so many, I have dealt with devils, and I have loosed the Leviathan. I know where I will be going when we complete this spell.”
For once, Gabriel seems at a loss for words. He leans in toward Castiel, brushes his shoulder hesitantly, forces a weak laugh. "If it's any consolation, Cas, I'm sure you're not the only one."
Castiel cannot share in this show of good humor.
"Balthazar," he murmurs, a hint of desperation coloring his voice, wetting his eyes, "Tell me Balthazar will not share in my punishment."
Gabriel does laugh at that, genuine, if bitter. "Yeah, not really who I was worried about, bro."
Castiel's face softens and he leans against the archangel. He has nothing to offer to that.
The two lost and dead angels separate, and then they finish the spell.