FIC: Welcome Back (Supernatural)
Title: Welcome Back
Author: Jewels (
bjewelled)
Website: http://www.bjewelled.co.uk
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: SPN belongs to other people, not me.
Summary: Castiel returns to Heaven, but it's not exactly a happy homecoming.
Word Count: 4,712
~*~
Ash had spent years of his life hanging around the Roadhouse. He knew every inch of it like he knew every bit of the sweetest bit of code he'd ever knocked out, and his post-corporeal recreation of it was no less perfect for not being the real thing. He was, however, pretty sure that there had never been Angels hanging around the Roadhouse, sitting at the bar with their hands laced together, looking about themselves with vague curiosity.
It was Heaven. Ash was used to seeing Angels, but usually from a distance as they flew about at the speed of tachyons in a hurry, ignoring the Human souls that had the gall to clutter up the place. Angels taking an interest in his little slice of paradise was a very bad thing indeed.
Which was why he was surprised when the Angel turned his head at Ash's entrance, and offered the startled Human a smile.
"Can I... help you?" Ash said, dubiously, wondering if the Angels had been poking around and finding the little tunnels to other Heavens that he'd been digging, wondering if this was the softly-softly approach before they cracked his head open and tossed him somewhere where they didn't have his favourite beer in the fridge and half-stale peanuts in chipped saucers.
"You're Ash," the Angel said, giving Ash a scrutinising once-over that would have been invasive if he'd still had a body to think was naked.
"S'what it said on my death certificate," Ash rubbed his chin. "If I got one." Ash stepped out of the simulacrum of the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind him. He kept the bar between himself and the Angel, who still hadn't made any move to scatter his soul to the four corners of the Earth, which had to be a good sign.
"I'm a friend of Sam and Dean's," the Angel said, as if this explained everything.
And really, it did. Ash broke into a grin. "Hey, you're Castiel! Man, lemme get you a beer."
He half-expected puzzlement, a confused look of non-understanding, but all Castiel did was duck his head, a small smile crossing his face. "Thank you."
Ash yanked a beer out of the cooler under the bar, depositing the bottle in front of the Angel, who didn't hesitate to pull the cap off and take a swig. If everything in Ash's soul hadn't been screaming that this was an almighty representative of divine authority, he would have been able to pretend that the man in front of him was actually Human.
"So, what gives? I thought you were on the no-fly list. Persona non grata in the heavenly domain." Ash waved his hands vaguely. "And yet you're walking straight in? You got balls, man."
"I am," Castiel said, raising the beer to his lips for another, smaller, sip. "But I think I have a fairly strong position from which to talk them around."
Ash shook his head. "I ain't seen a lot of Angels since I got hooked up with my pad here, but I get the feeling they're not big on forgiveness."
Castiel's expression, just for a moment, hardened into something frightening, but before Ash could react, it vanished, and Castiel rubbed his chin in an all-too-Human gesture. "That's because, as I've been repeatedly told, they're dicks."
"No argument here," Ash said.
Castiel looked around at the empty Roadhouse. "I'm thinking this place needs redecorating," he said, "Knocking a few walls in. What do you think?"
Ash frowned, opened his mouth to say something-what he had no idea-but before he could formulate an answer, the door was flung open, a door that hadn't used to lead anywhere. Silhouetted against a bright and indistinct light was what looked like a man but that Ash knew was an Angel, and who he likewise knew was pissed.
"Castiel!"
The roar, which caused glasses and chairs to vibrate, failed to move Castiel, who didn't turn away from his beer to confront the new presence. Ash had taken four steps back before he was even cognisant of doing so.
The Angel, wearing the shape of a black man, stormed into the bar, hands curling into fists. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here," he snarled.
"Hello, Raphael," Castiel said, and set the beer down on the bar. "How's my favourite little bitch?"
Ash opened his mouth to warn about the sharp glint of metal that he could see in Raphael's hands, but with an incoherent noise of rage that shattered the unreal glasses, Raphael lunged for Castiel, blade raised.
Castiel moved, stepping cleanly out of the way as Raphael charged him, grabbing Raphael's arm as he missed his target, yanking sharply to pull Raphael off balance. His foot came down on the back of Raphael's knee, and, as Raphael started to fall, Castiel grabbed the back of his opponent's head and slammed him, forehead first, down onto the bar. Raphael slumped, unmoving, to the floor.
Ash knew, intellectually, that whatever passed for his brain here was just providing a metaphor that he could understand. There weren't two Humans in front of him having a fist fight. There were two Angels, great and terrible, fighting. Raphael, whose chatter Ash had caught often enough to know that he was, in Angelic terms, a heavy hitter, had just been taken out by a low ranking Angel who'd absconded to Earth to help Dean and Sam give two fingers to the devil.
Ash wondered why he was only now started to get scared.
Castiel bent down, taking up the dagger that Raphael had been carrying and tucking it into his coat. He picked up the beer, and looked at it contemplatively. "Do you have more of these?" he asked.
"Yes," Ash said, carefully. "As many as the good lord provides."
Castiel seemed to find that funny, but Ash wasn't sure why. It was true in Heaven, after all. "You might want to get them out," he said, finishing off the bottle and slamming it back down on the bar top. "This place is about to get a lot busier."
Between one blink and the next, the Roadhouse went from empty to full of people, all of whom looked at Castiel with distrust and some with outright hatred. Most of them weren't armed with the same sort of shiny knife that Castiel had taken from Raphael, but a lack of weapons hadn't ever stopped Humans from ripping each other limb from limb if they really wanted to.
Ash swallowed, and wondered if a Human soul could survive an all-out Angelic brawl.
Castiel, at least, didn't look too concerned. He just gave Ash a significant look. Ash hurriedly bent down to get out the beers.
~*~
Ash wasn't the first person that Castiel met upon crossing the boundary between Earth and Heaven. The place was in chaos, no one knowing quite what had happened, but that Michael was gone, trapped in the pit with Lucifer. Castiel could listen to the clamouring of voices, a far cry from the sweet concordance he remembered, and could hear them splitting into factions. Some wanted to retrieve Michael immediately, others wanted to not take the chance of releasing Lucifer, others still just wanted to burn the world and damn the consequences.
No one noticed if one out-of-favour Angel stepped across the border, though Castiel knew that wouldn't last for long.
So before they caught him, he went to the memory of a hospital hallway, and sat down next to a man who was dressed in mismatched socks and rumpled clothing. Jimmy Novak, of course, had known he was there the moment Castiel arrived in his slice of Heaven. Vessels and their Angels had a unique connection.
"This is one of your happiest memories?" Castiel asked, glancing around himself. In his experience, hospitals were not good places.
Jimmy raised his head, and gave Castiel a wry smile. "Amelia's in there," he said, pointing to the doorway he was sitting opposite, "She's having Claire. Of course, none of it's real. I'm surprised to see you here though. I was pretty sure that you were never going to be allowed back here."
"Things change," Castiel said.
Jimmy snorted softly. He sat back in the uncomfortable plastic chair and ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up in odd directions. "I can tell. You look... different."
Jimmy was one of the rare Humans who could see him as he truly was, able to comprehend the truth of Castiel's existence without going blind, or insane. Anyone else might have seen two identical men sitting next to each other, but Jimmy could see him in all his terrible glory. It was comforting, somehow.
"I've received what you might call an upgrade," Castiel said, absently looking at his hands. They didn't seem any different from the outside, but he could feel the difference deep under the surface, like he was heavier, or thicker.
Jimmy looked at him speculatively, and ran a hand through his already mussed hair. "You're an Archangel now?"
Castiel thought about that, touching that deeper well of power that lay inside, and compared it to his numerous unfortunate encounters with Archangels. "I don't think so," he said, after a long silence, "I don't know what I am, only that I'm better than before."
Jimmy grunted. "I hope you're taking care of that body of mine at least."
Castiel hesitated, slightly guiltily. "I don't think it's technically the same body as yours," he said, "Given that it's been blown up at least twice."
"Sounds like fun."
Castiel scowled.
"I'm guessing that at least one of those was what sent me here?" Jimmy asked, and at Castiel's slow nod, said, "Thought it might be something like that. I wondered if you'd been killed along with me. Wondered where Angels go after they die."
"The same place Humans do," Castiel said, "And Gods, I'd imagine."
Jimmy frowned at him. "I thought that this... was the place people go when they die."
"It is," Castiel said, "Or Hell, of course. But Humans, just like Angels and Demons, can move between worlds. They just need help. I wonder if this is just another part of life, that real death, true death is something that none of us, Angels or Humans, know about."
"You've been thinking about that a lot, huh?"
"Once or twice," Castiel said.
Jimmy shook his head slowly. "Then, if this is some sort of cosmic waiting room, it sucks."
Castiel looked at him in surprise. "You... are not happy?"
"Of course I am," Jimmy said, "These are my happiest memories. But I can't have new ones, because everything here comes from my own experiences. And even if Amelia and Claire die at some point, God forbid, I wouldn't get to see them again. That hurts worse. It's just... cruel. Like I'm in solitary isolation. Like this place is more a prison than eternal paradise."
Castiel looked around the bright hallway that smelled faintly of bleach, looking at the boundaries that the Human soul couldn't perceive properly. "It didn't used to look this way," he said, "Once upon a time, it was all fields, stretching on to infinity. Then the stories say that Father left, and Humans came, and they needed places to exist. So the roads were built, and paradise tailored to each Human, so that they could live forever in their happiest times."
"It still sucks," Jimmy said, sounding unimpressed with Angelic lore.
Castiel stared at him, and then, to Jimmy's surprise, started laughing. It didn't sound anything like Jimmy's own laugh, this one was awkward, as if Castiel was unfamiliar with the action, but there was a genuine undercurrent that felt like Castiel was honestly delighted with something. Just when Jimmy was about to get annoyed and ask what the hell was going on, Castiel shook his head, and trailed off.
"Humans," he said, with warm affection, "You're all so hard to please."
Across the hallway, the door creaked open, and the memory of a blond nurse in pale yellow scrubs stepped out. She smiled at Jimmy, not truly seeing Castiel.
"James Novak? You can come in now. Your wife's waiting for you."
Caught up in the memory, Jimmy stood, a wide grin breaking over his face, and he hurried after the woman. Castiel thought he might forget his presence entirely, but just before entering the delivery room, Jimmy paused and turned back.
"Castiel, the whole getting blown up twice thing... was it for a good reason?"
"To save the Winchesters," Castiel said, "And ultimately the world."
Jimmy nodded slowly. "Good reason," he said, and walked away.
~*~
Raphael had recovered, and was sitting tensely across the simulation of a table from Castiel. The other Angels, far many than should have been able to fit into a room the size of the Roadhouse, were ranged around them, watching, waiting to see what would happen next. Ash would have tried to sneak out, except that Castiel had given him a significant glance that told dire consequences if he'd tried, and so he was stuck there, standing behind the bar, apparently for the duration.
The Angels were mostly ignoring him anyway.
"You've got a lot of nerve coming back here," Raphael said. He'd made no move to tear Castiel's throat out, however much he so clearly would have liked to. Possibly the presence of the other Angels deterred him. They were standing around the pair, glancing between the two uncertainly, as if they weren't sure who to root for.
"Zachariah is dead," Castiel said bluntly, "Michael and Lucifer are trapped the in the cage, Gabriel is dead."
"Gabriel?" one of the other Angels murmured, starting a whisper that ran through the crowd.
"The hierarchy that has held sway over Heaven since Our Father left us is gone," Castiel said, "The Apocalypse they desired to start has been thwarted."
"What are you talking about?" one of the Angels snapped, stepping forward. "Lucifer desired the Apocalypse. We met him and his minions in battle."
Castiel raised his head, turning to look at the Angel who spoke up. "Part of the truth, Balthazar, but not the whole."
"Castiel-" Raphael said, warningly.
"Brothers," Castiel said, ignoring the Archangel. "I offer you my recollections. They are not pleasant, and hold pain, shame and my own failures. But I offer them freely, for you to make your own decisions."
Ash wasn't sure what happened next. It was like he couldn't quite understand it, and so his mind protected itself by editing out the worst. A ripple ran through the crowd, the sound of a million voices sighing in harmony, or a single harp string being plucked. It was deafening, and it was silent, and Ash clapped his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block the sound out.
Then the moment passed, and the Angel Castiel had addressed as Balthazar was dropping to his knees next to Castiel's chair, reaching out to touch him tentatively. "Brother, you... you died?"
"Our Father has shown Castiel His favour," someone else said.
"Castiel thwarted prophecy! Earth is ridden with vice, with sin! Castiel witnessed that for himself! It should have become paradise! He has stopped that!"
Voices were breaking out, shouting opinions, yelling, the noise becoming chaotic. Even as Ash watched, lines were being visibly drawn. There seemed to be two camps, drawing apart to opposite sides, ranging themselves behind either Castiel or Raphael, yelling at each other. The two at the heart were silent, staring at each other.
Ash had the feeling that whatever was happening... was not a good thing.
Castiel held up a hand, and both sides fell silent at once. "Our Father is gone," he said, "It is up to us to make our own decisions now."
"Foolishness!" Raphael snapped, making a cutting gesture. "The hierarchy is clear, has been since the day of Creation. With Michael and Lucifer's encagement, I am the superior here. We are not a democracy, we are the army of Heaven, and soldiers follow orders."
"We are whatever we want to be," Castiel said. "We have spent eternity fighting at the behest of our so-called superiors, who seek only to kill and impose order on Humanity. Even here, the place that Father created for us to share happiness with Humans, we have imposed on them, delineating spaces, keeping them from their loved ones."
"Humans are chaotic," Raphael retorted. "They could use order. Ugly bags of flesh."
"They are eternal. Flesh is only a requirement for their dimensional existence. Detached, they are free, as we are. We chose to interpret Father's order to protect them as the order to oppress them." Castiel gestured, stabbing a finger towards Raphael. "An interpretation you and the others indoctrinated all of us in the lower ranks to believe. We have had less choice than Humans."
"We were not created to chose, we were created to serve."
"If that were true, Lucifer would not have Fallen, nor would Anael, nor Gabriel, nor I." Castiel straightened. "We chose. We can all choose."
Raphael's lip curled, "Then by your return to this place where you are not welcome, you have chosen anew."
Ash had no idea where he'd gotten the knife. Maybe he'd had more than one on his person, but he suddenly lunged across the table, metal flashing in the low light of the bar. The pair tumbled to the floor. The Angels around them all took a simultaneous step back, but none of them making a move to intervene, unsure about what they should be doing.
"I wouldn't, dear brother," Castiel grunted.
They were on the floor, Raphael pinning Castiel down, blade pressed against his neck. Raphael glanced downwards, and Ash realised that Castiel had his weapon pressed against Raphael's stomach. Stalemate.
The Angels glared at other, both almost hissing, a supersonic sound that Ash couldn't quite pin down.
"I underestimated you," Raphael said to Castiel, in a low voice, "I will not make that same mistake twice."
"It doesn't have to be this way," Castiel said, earnestly. He sounded almost... heartbroken. "Brother, we're free now. We can make our own decisions."
"It was written that the end of days will come," Raphael hissed. "And so it will. You will not stand in the way of that."
There was a sound, like metal slicing through an atom, and suddenly Balthazar was standing over Raphael, knife in hand, pressing against the base of the Archangel's skull. "I would advise you to let him go," the Angel said pleasantly.
The other Angels didn't have the same, unnaturally bright weapons that Balthazar was holding, but abruptly, those ranged behind Castiel seemed to come to a collective decision, taking up fighting stances unlike anything Ash had seen before. Mirrored by those standing against them, suddenly Ash was aware that he was standing in the middle of two opposing armies on the verge of starting to fight. While the Roadhouse had seen its fair share of barroom brawls in its physical existence, Ash was fairly certain that his recreation of it wouldn't stand up to all out Angelic warfare.
Raphael laughed, an unpleasant sound, and took his knife away from Castiel's throat, standing up. Balthazar helped Castiel to his feet as Raphael nonchalantly brushed dust from his sleeves.
"We will have the Reckoning," Raphael said, "Earth will be purged, as it was written."
"And I will stop you," Castiel vowed.
"You will not stand against Prophecy. You are a fool, Castiel, and I will see you burn soon enough."
Then, in the space between one breath and the next, Raphael was gone, and the Angels with him. Only Castiel remained, with Balthazar next to him, frowning in concern.
"Brother," he said, uncertainly.
Castiel closed his eyes. "Go," he said, "Make your choice."
Balthazar hesitated, then nodded, and then he was also gone.
Castiel turned to Ash, sliding his blade back into his sleeve. Ash wondered if it was really a sleeve or some sort of dimensional fold. "I wish that had gone differently," he said, "I'd hoped..."
Castiel sat down heavily at the bar, and Ash shoved one of the beers, untouched by the Angels who had ignored their presence entirely, over to him. Castiel took it and drained half the bottle. "I'd really hoped..."
"That's people, dude," Ash offered, "Might as well try herding cats."
Castiel finished off the beer and rolled the bottle between his hands. "I wasn't trying to get you killed, I hope you realise that."
"Thought had crossed my mind," Ash said. He was rather grateful he didn't have a body to be afraid of getting killed with.
"I needed a Human here. In your presence we are forced to conform to your paradigm, your... perception of us. I needed a witness, to whatever might have happened." Castiel shook his head sadly. "And now you know. It's only a matter of time now."
"Until what?"
"Until the fighting breaks out." Castiel sighed, "My brethren are debating, arguing. Sides are beginning to be drawn, and then the fighting will start. I've set an unfortunate precedent there, what with killing my own brothers. We're a very intolerant race, really."
"Too Human for your own good," Ash said, bringing a small laugh from Castiel.
Castiel slid a piece of paper across the bar. "The other reason I chose to speak to you is that I know you have accessways into otherwise closed off areas of Heaven. I would ask that you find as many Human souls as possible, and give them sanctuary. The fallout from our conflict will not be kind to those unprotected. Particular, I would ask you find this man. I owe him."
Ash unfolded the paper. It didn't have a name so much as an imprint of a soul, but Ash could feel the name: Jimmy. "Mission from God, huh? I can handle that."
"Not God," Castiel said, "Just me. Good luck, Ash. I have no idea if I'll ever see you again."
"I think you need luck more than me, man," Ash said, extending his hand for Castiel to shake. "For what it's worth, I think you've got the righteous side on this one."
"I hope so," Castiel said.
~*~
Ash was not the second person that Castiel went to see upon returning to Heaven. That honour went to Joshua. After leaving Jimmy in his memories, he followed the most direct path to the Garden, passing beneath the notice of the still-tumultuous host. Joshua was inside, deadheading roses with immovable placidity, as if the Heavenly Host weren't half a quark's width away from descending into anarchy.
Castiel folded his arms, and looked around himself. He'd never had cause to attempt to enter the Garden before, would never have been allowed the privilege of standing in Joshua's presence, or in this tiny, perfect corner of perfection that he maintained. He would have been lucky to escape with his wings intact if he'd tried. Now, of course, no one would have been able to stop him.
"Good morning, Castiel," Joshua said, as if time wasn't a meaningless concept in Heaven, where there was no sun to rise or set. "I thought you might be stopping by."
"I thought it would be appropriate to do so," Castiel said. He shifted, unaccustomed to spending so much time in his natural form, he found that he itched to put his hands into pockets of a coat that was not there. The flesh that served as his vessel was tucked away in a side dimension. If he was to attempt to wear it in Heaven, it would be incinerated instantly, and he'd grown rather fond of it. Without any Humans around to enforce the paradigm, Castiel could see with his true eyes, speak with his true voice, and have it understood.
It should have been a relief, but it more felt like he was exposed, vulnerable. Castiel reminded himself that he had a blade tucked away under a furled brane, and that he was in no danger from the gardener.
"Looking for an explanation?" Joshua didn't turn to look at him, continuing to pinch wilted blooms off their bushes.
Castiel made a fluid gesture that might have been a shrug. "That would be nice, but I suppose it's rather a lot to hope for. I don't expect Father to explain his absence, now. I suppose that I have... resigned... myself to his absence."
Joshua did raise his eyes then, offering curiosity in a tangle of hyperstrings. "But you still have a question?"
Castiel shifted uneasily. "Why me? No one else was restored. I checked. Why me?"
"You want to believe you're special?"
"He resurrected me, and no one else." Castiel said, "I know I'm special. I just have no idea why."
"I think He likes you," Joshua said, with a faint smile, "I think He's... fond of you. The first Angel to rebel for the love of Humanity, because it was right and just, because you figured it out first."
Castiel narrowed his wavelength of perception. "Figured what out?"
Joshua returned to his tending, reaching up in the boughs of the tree to pluck something from amongst the leaves. "That free will was not only gifted to Humans."
Castiel sighed, breathing out coils of indeterminate photons. "Joshua-"
"I don't think He'll speak to me again," Joshua said, abruptly, interrupting. "I think He's moving on, leaving this Sphere. Maybe He'll come back, but I don't think so. I think we have to go find Him some day, when we're ready. I think He was just waiting until the last of His children started thinking for themselves."
"Is that what He told you?"
"No," Joshua said, kindly, "But we've been talking long enough that I can figure out his thinking. He did have one last message, though. For you."
Castiel felt like he was still in his Vessel, small and cramped and on the edge of something he didn't understand. It was like a relic of emotion, of anticipation and dread. Those emotions were not accessible to him in his true form, lacking hormones and neurotransmitters to affect the thought process, but it seemed that there was an analogy for an energy being. It was unfamiliar, though Castiel thought he recognised it in his memory. When he had been young, newly formed, these sensations had resonated through every nanometre of his being. He had been taught to suppress them, to discard them, as had the rest of the Host. Emotion was the weakness of Humanity, he had been taught. The Host was purer of purpose, of design.
But if they had not been intended to feel emotion, they would never have been able to do so in the first place. It had taken Castiel a long time to realise that the suppression of emotion served their superiors' purposes far too well.
"What was it?" he asked, trying not to let his newfound emotions show.
Joshua stilled himself for a moment, as if he were reluctant to relay the message. "Everything that happens now, you must take responsibility for. You set foot off the path, and so you are a trailblazer, a leader, whether you intended it or not. With free will comes the need to accept that your decisions have consequences."
Castiel's skeins knotted, an unpleasant feeling. "I see," he said.
"And," Joshua continued, "He wanted you to know: He's proud of you."
Castiel felt unlike he ever had in his existence. He wasn't sure exactly what that feeling was. "Thank you," he said, for lack of a better response.
"You're welcome, Castiel," Joshua said, "Here." He held out the thing that he'd pulled from the tree. "For luck."
It was a nectarine, perfectly ripe and juicy. Castiel had no idea how it could even exist in this multidimensional schema, but he took it, turning it over in his hands before taking an experimental bite. The flavour flooded his senses, tasting every fruit every flowered, a universe of knowledge bound in a kernel of flesh. It was delicious.
Castiel took a deep breath, inhaling the heady scent of life that permeated the garden. "Alright," he said, to himself, "Time to make some decisions." And to accept the consequences, whatever they might be.
Author: Jewels (
bjewelled)
Website: http://www.bjewelled.co.uk
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: SPN belongs to other people, not me.
Summary: Castiel returns to Heaven, but it's not exactly a happy homecoming.
Word Count: 4,712
~*~
Ash had spent years of his life hanging around the Roadhouse. He knew every inch of it like he knew every bit of the sweetest bit of code he'd ever knocked out, and his post-corporeal recreation of it was no less perfect for not being the real thing. He was, however, pretty sure that there had never been Angels hanging around the Roadhouse, sitting at the bar with their hands laced together, looking about themselves with vague curiosity.
It was Heaven. Ash was used to seeing Angels, but usually from a distance as they flew about at the speed of tachyons in a hurry, ignoring the Human souls that had the gall to clutter up the place. Angels taking an interest in his little slice of paradise was a very bad thing indeed.
Which was why he was surprised when the Angel turned his head at Ash's entrance, and offered the startled Human a smile.
"Can I... help you?" Ash said, dubiously, wondering if the Angels had been poking around and finding the little tunnels to other Heavens that he'd been digging, wondering if this was the softly-softly approach before they cracked his head open and tossed him somewhere where they didn't have his favourite beer in the fridge and half-stale peanuts in chipped saucers.
"You're Ash," the Angel said, giving Ash a scrutinising once-over that would have been invasive if he'd still had a body to think was naked.
"S'what it said on my death certificate," Ash rubbed his chin. "If I got one." Ash stepped out of the simulacrum of the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind him. He kept the bar between himself and the Angel, who still hadn't made any move to scatter his soul to the four corners of the Earth, which had to be a good sign.
"I'm a friend of Sam and Dean's," the Angel said, as if this explained everything.
And really, it did. Ash broke into a grin. "Hey, you're Castiel! Man, lemme get you a beer."
He half-expected puzzlement, a confused look of non-understanding, but all Castiel did was duck his head, a small smile crossing his face. "Thank you."
Ash yanked a beer out of the cooler under the bar, depositing the bottle in front of the Angel, who didn't hesitate to pull the cap off and take a swig. If everything in Ash's soul hadn't been screaming that this was an almighty representative of divine authority, he would have been able to pretend that the man in front of him was actually Human.
"So, what gives? I thought you were on the no-fly list. Persona non grata in the heavenly domain." Ash waved his hands vaguely. "And yet you're walking straight in? You got balls, man."
"I am," Castiel said, raising the beer to his lips for another, smaller, sip. "But I think I have a fairly strong position from which to talk them around."
Ash shook his head. "I ain't seen a lot of Angels since I got hooked up with my pad here, but I get the feeling they're not big on forgiveness."
Castiel's expression, just for a moment, hardened into something frightening, but before Ash could react, it vanished, and Castiel rubbed his chin in an all-too-Human gesture. "That's because, as I've been repeatedly told, they're dicks."
"No argument here," Ash said.
Castiel looked around at the empty Roadhouse. "I'm thinking this place needs redecorating," he said, "Knocking a few walls in. What do you think?"
Ash frowned, opened his mouth to say something-what he had no idea-but before he could formulate an answer, the door was flung open, a door that hadn't used to lead anywhere. Silhouetted against a bright and indistinct light was what looked like a man but that Ash knew was an Angel, and who he likewise knew was pissed.
"Castiel!"
The roar, which caused glasses and chairs to vibrate, failed to move Castiel, who didn't turn away from his beer to confront the new presence. Ash had taken four steps back before he was even cognisant of doing so.
The Angel, wearing the shape of a black man, stormed into the bar, hands curling into fists. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here," he snarled.
"Hello, Raphael," Castiel said, and set the beer down on the bar. "How's my favourite little bitch?"
Ash opened his mouth to warn about the sharp glint of metal that he could see in Raphael's hands, but with an incoherent noise of rage that shattered the unreal glasses, Raphael lunged for Castiel, blade raised.
Castiel moved, stepping cleanly out of the way as Raphael charged him, grabbing Raphael's arm as he missed his target, yanking sharply to pull Raphael off balance. His foot came down on the back of Raphael's knee, and, as Raphael started to fall, Castiel grabbed the back of his opponent's head and slammed him, forehead first, down onto the bar. Raphael slumped, unmoving, to the floor.
Ash knew, intellectually, that whatever passed for his brain here was just providing a metaphor that he could understand. There weren't two Humans in front of him having a fist fight. There were two Angels, great and terrible, fighting. Raphael, whose chatter Ash had caught often enough to know that he was, in Angelic terms, a heavy hitter, had just been taken out by a low ranking Angel who'd absconded to Earth to help Dean and Sam give two fingers to the devil.
Ash wondered why he was only now started to get scared.
Castiel bent down, taking up the dagger that Raphael had been carrying and tucking it into his coat. He picked up the beer, and looked at it contemplatively. "Do you have more of these?" he asked.
"Yes," Ash said, carefully. "As many as the good lord provides."
Castiel seemed to find that funny, but Ash wasn't sure why. It was true in Heaven, after all. "You might want to get them out," he said, finishing off the bottle and slamming it back down on the bar top. "This place is about to get a lot busier."
Between one blink and the next, the Roadhouse went from empty to full of people, all of whom looked at Castiel with distrust and some with outright hatred. Most of them weren't armed with the same sort of shiny knife that Castiel had taken from Raphael, but a lack of weapons hadn't ever stopped Humans from ripping each other limb from limb if they really wanted to.
Ash swallowed, and wondered if a Human soul could survive an all-out Angelic brawl.
Castiel, at least, didn't look too concerned. He just gave Ash a significant look. Ash hurriedly bent down to get out the beers.
~*~
Ash wasn't the first person that Castiel met upon crossing the boundary between Earth and Heaven. The place was in chaos, no one knowing quite what had happened, but that Michael was gone, trapped in the pit with Lucifer. Castiel could listen to the clamouring of voices, a far cry from the sweet concordance he remembered, and could hear them splitting into factions. Some wanted to retrieve Michael immediately, others wanted to not take the chance of releasing Lucifer, others still just wanted to burn the world and damn the consequences.
No one noticed if one out-of-favour Angel stepped across the border, though Castiel knew that wouldn't last for long.
So before they caught him, he went to the memory of a hospital hallway, and sat down next to a man who was dressed in mismatched socks and rumpled clothing. Jimmy Novak, of course, had known he was there the moment Castiel arrived in his slice of Heaven. Vessels and their Angels had a unique connection.
"This is one of your happiest memories?" Castiel asked, glancing around himself. In his experience, hospitals were not good places.
Jimmy raised his head, and gave Castiel a wry smile. "Amelia's in there," he said, pointing to the doorway he was sitting opposite, "She's having Claire. Of course, none of it's real. I'm surprised to see you here though. I was pretty sure that you were never going to be allowed back here."
"Things change," Castiel said.
Jimmy snorted softly. He sat back in the uncomfortable plastic chair and ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up in odd directions. "I can tell. You look... different."
Jimmy was one of the rare Humans who could see him as he truly was, able to comprehend the truth of Castiel's existence without going blind, or insane. Anyone else might have seen two identical men sitting next to each other, but Jimmy could see him in all his terrible glory. It was comforting, somehow.
"I've received what you might call an upgrade," Castiel said, absently looking at his hands. They didn't seem any different from the outside, but he could feel the difference deep under the surface, like he was heavier, or thicker.
Jimmy looked at him speculatively, and ran a hand through his already mussed hair. "You're an Archangel now?"
Castiel thought about that, touching that deeper well of power that lay inside, and compared it to his numerous unfortunate encounters with Archangels. "I don't think so," he said, after a long silence, "I don't know what I am, only that I'm better than before."
Jimmy grunted. "I hope you're taking care of that body of mine at least."
Castiel hesitated, slightly guiltily. "I don't think it's technically the same body as yours," he said, "Given that it's been blown up at least twice."
"Sounds like fun."
Castiel scowled.
"I'm guessing that at least one of those was what sent me here?" Jimmy asked, and at Castiel's slow nod, said, "Thought it might be something like that. I wondered if you'd been killed along with me. Wondered where Angels go after they die."
"The same place Humans do," Castiel said, "And Gods, I'd imagine."
Jimmy frowned at him. "I thought that this... was the place people go when they die."
"It is," Castiel said, "Or Hell, of course. But Humans, just like Angels and Demons, can move between worlds. They just need help. I wonder if this is just another part of life, that real death, true death is something that none of us, Angels or Humans, know about."
"You've been thinking about that a lot, huh?"
"Once or twice," Castiel said.
Jimmy shook his head slowly. "Then, if this is some sort of cosmic waiting room, it sucks."
Castiel looked at him in surprise. "You... are not happy?"
"Of course I am," Jimmy said, "These are my happiest memories. But I can't have new ones, because everything here comes from my own experiences. And even if Amelia and Claire die at some point, God forbid, I wouldn't get to see them again. That hurts worse. It's just... cruel. Like I'm in solitary isolation. Like this place is more a prison than eternal paradise."
Castiel looked around the bright hallway that smelled faintly of bleach, looking at the boundaries that the Human soul couldn't perceive properly. "It didn't used to look this way," he said, "Once upon a time, it was all fields, stretching on to infinity. Then the stories say that Father left, and Humans came, and they needed places to exist. So the roads were built, and paradise tailored to each Human, so that they could live forever in their happiest times."
"It still sucks," Jimmy said, sounding unimpressed with Angelic lore.
Castiel stared at him, and then, to Jimmy's surprise, started laughing. It didn't sound anything like Jimmy's own laugh, this one was awkward, as if Castiel was unfamiliar with the action, but there was a genuine undercurrent that felt like Castiel was honestly delighted with something. Just when Jimmy was about to get annoyed and ask what the hell was going on, Castiel shook his head, and trailed off.
"Humans," he said, with warm affection, "You're all so hard to please."
Across the hallway, the door creaked open, and the memory of a blond nurse in pale yellow scrubs stepped out. She smiled at Jimmy, not truly seeing Castiel.
"James Novak? You can come in now. Your wife's waiting for you."
Caught up in the memory, Jimmy stood, a wide grin breaking over his face, and he hurried after the woman. Castiel thought he might forget his presence entirely, but just before entering the delivery room, Jimmy paused and turned back.
"Castiel, the whole getting blown up twice thing... was it for a good reason?"
"To save the Winchesters," Castiel said, "And ultimately the world."
Jimmy nodded slowly. "Good reason," he said, and walked away.
~*~
Raphael had recovered, and was sitting tensely across the simulation of a table from Castiel. The other Angels, far many than should have been able to fit into a room the size of the Roadhouse, were ranged around them, watching, waiting to see what would happen next. Ash would have tried to sneak out, except that Castiel had given him a significant glance that told dire consequences if he'd tried, and so he was stuck there, standing behind the bar, apparently for the duration.
The Angels were mostly ignoring him anyway.
"You've got a lot of nerve coming back here," Raphael said. He'd made no move to tear Castiel's throat out, however much he so clearly would have liked to. Possibly the presence of the other Angels deterred him. They were standing around the pair, glancing between the two uncertainly, as if they weren't sure who to root for.
"Zachariah is dead," Castiel said bluntly, "Michael and Lucifer are trapped the in the cage, Gabriel is dead."
"Gabriel?" one of the other Angels murmured, starting a whisper that ran through the crowd.
"The hierarchy that has held sway over Heaven since Our Father left us is gone," Castiel said, "The Apocalypse they desired to start has been thwarted."
"What are you talking about?" one of the Angels snapped, stepping forward. "Lucifer desired the Apocalypse. We met him and his minions in battle."
Castiel raised his head, turning to look at the Angel who spoke up. "Part of the truth, Balthazar, but not the whole."
"Castiel-" Raphael said, warningly.
"Brothers," Castiel said, ignoring the Archangel. "I offer you my recollections. They are not pleasant, and hold pain, shame and my own failures. But I offer them freely, for you to make your own decisions."
Ash wasn't sure what happened next. It was like he couldn't quite understand it, and so his mind protected itself by editing out the worst. A ripple ran through the crowd, the sound of a million voices sighing in harmony, or a single harp string being plucked. It was deafening, and it was silent, and Ash clapped his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block the sound out.
Then the moment passed, and the Angel Castiel had addressed as Balthazar was dropping to his knees next to Castiel's chair, reaching out to touch him tentatively. "Brother, you... you died?"
"Our Father has shown Castiel His favour," someone else said.
"Castiel thwarted prophecy! Earth is ridden with vice, with sin! Castiel witnessed that for himself! It should have become paradise! He has stopped that!"
Voices were breaking out, shouting opinions, yelling, the noise becoming chaotic. Even as Ash watched, lines were being visibly drawn. There seemed to be two camps, drawing apart to opposite sides, ranging themselves behind either Castiel or Raphael, yelling at each other. The two at the heart were silent, staring at each other.
Ash had the feeling that whatever was happening... was not a good thing.
Castiel held up a hand, and both sides fell silent at once. "Our Father is gone," he said, "It is up to us to make our own decisions now."
"Foolishness!" Raphael snapped, making a cutting gesture. "The hierarchy is clear, has been since the day of Creation. With Michael and Lucifer's encagement, I am the superior here. We are not a democracy, we are the army of Heaven, and soldiers follow orders."
"We are whatever we want to be," Castiel said. "We have spent eternity fighting at the behest of our so-called superiors, who seek only to kill and impose order on Humanity. Even here, the place that Father created for us to share happiness with Humans, we have imposed on them, delineating spaces, keeping them from their loved ones."
"Humans are chaotic," Raphael retorted. "They could use order. Ugly bags of flesh."
"They are eternal. Flesh is only a requirement for their dimensional existence. Detached, they are free, as we are. We chose to interpret Father's order to protect them as the order to oppress them." Castiel gestured, stabbing a finger towards Raphael. "An interpretation you and the others indoctrinated all of us in the lower ranks to believe. We have had less choice than Humans."
"We were not created to chose, we were created to serve."
"If that were true, Lucifer would not have Fallen, nor would Anael, nor Gabriel, nor I." Castiel straightened. "We chose. We can all choose."
Raphael's lip curled, "Then by your return to this place where you are not welcome, you have chosen anew."
Ash had no idea where he'd gotten the knife. Maybe he'd had more than one on his person, but he suddenly lunged across the table, metal flashing in the low light of the bar. The pair tumbled to the floor. The Angels around them all took a simultaneous step back, but none of them making a move to intervene, unsure about what they should be doing.
"I wouldn't, dear brother," Castiel grunted.
They were on the floor, Raphael pinning Castiel down, blade pressed against his neck. Raphael glanced downwards, and Ash realised that Castiel had his weapon pressed against Raphael's stomach. Stalemate.
The Angels glared at other, both almost hissing, a supersonic sound that Ash couldn't quite pin down.
"I underestimated you," Raphael said to Castiel, in a low voice, "I will not make that same mistake twice."
"It doesn't have to be this way," Castiel said, earnestly. He sounded almost... heartbroken. "Brother, we're free now. We can make our own decisions."
"It was written that the end of days will come," Raphael hissed. "And so it will. You will not stand in the way of that."
There was a sound, like metal slicing through an atom, and suddenly Balthazar was standing over Raphael, knife in hand, pressing against the base of the Archangel's skull. "I would advise you to let him go," the Angel said pleasantly.
The other Angels didn't have the same, unnaturally bright weapons that Balthazar was holding, but abruptly, those ranged behind Castiel seemed to come to a collective decision, taking up fighting stances unlike anything Ash had seen before. Mirrored by those standing against them, suddenly Ash was aware that he was standing in the middle of two opposing armies on the verge of starting to fight. While the Roadhouse had seen its fair share of barroom brawls in its physical existence, Ash was fairly certain that his recreation of it wouldn't stand up to all out Angelic warfare.
Raphael laughed, an unpleasant sound, and took his knife away from Castiel's throat, standing up. Balthazar helped Castiel to his feet as Raphael nonchalantly brushed dust from his sleeves.
"We will have the Reckoning," Raphael said, "Earth will be purged, as it was written."
"And I will stop you," Castiel vowed.
"You will not stand against Prophecy. You are a fool, Castiel, and I will see you burn soon enough."
Then, in the space between one breath and the next, Raphael was gone, and the Angels with him. Only Castiel remained, with Balthazar next to him, frowning in concern.
"Brother," he said, uncertainly.
Castiel closed his eyes. "Go," he said, "Make your choice."
Balthazar hesitated, then nodded, and then he was also gone.
Castiel turned to Ash, sliding his blade back into his sleeve. Ash wondered if it was really a sleeve or some sort of dimensional fold. "I wish that had gone differently," he said, "I'd hoped..."
Castiel sat down heavily at the bar, and Ash shoved one of the beers, untouched by the Angels who had ignored their presence entirely, over to him. Castiel took it and drained half the bottle. "I'd really hoped..."
"That's people, dude," Ash offered, "Might as well try herding cats."
Castiel finished off the beer and rolled the bottle between his hands. "I wasn't trying to get you killed, I hope you realise that."
"Thought had crossed my mind," Ash said. He was rather grateful he didn't have a body to be afraid of getting killed with.
"I needed a Human here. In your presence we are forced to conform to your paradigm, your... perception of us. I needed a witness, to whatever might have happened." Castiel shook his head sadly. "And now you know. It's only a matter of time now."
"Until what?"
"Until the fighting breaks out." Castiel sighed, "My brethren are debating, arguing. Sides are beginning to be drawn, and then the fighting will start. I've set an unfortunate precedent there, what with killing my own brothers. We're a very intolerant race, really."
"Too Human for your own good," Ash said, bringing a small laugh from Castiel.
Castiel slid a piece of paper across the bar. "The other reason I chose to speak to you is that I know you have accessways into otherwise closed off areas of Heaven. I would ask that you find as many Human souls as possible, and give them sanctuary. The fallout from our conflict will not be kind to those unprotected. Particular, I would ask you find this man. I owe him."
Ash unfolded the paper. It didn't have a name so much as an imprint of a soul, but Ash could feel the name: Jimmy. "Mission from God, huh? I can handle that."
"Not God," Castiel said, "Just me. Good luck, Ash. I have no idea if I'll ever see you again."
"I think you need luck more than me, man," Ash said, extending his hand for Castiel to shake. "For what it's worth, I think you've got the righteous side on this one."
"I hope so," Castiel said.
~*~
Ash was not the second person that Castiel went to see upon returning to Heaven. That honour went to Joshua. After leaving Jimmy in his memories, he followed the most direct path to the Garden, passing beneath the notice of the still-tumultuous host. Joshua was inside, deadheading roses with immovable placidity, as if the Heavenly Host weren't half a quark's width away from descending into anarchy.
Castiel folded his arms, and looked around himself. He'd never had cause to attempt to enter the Garden before, would never have been allowed the privilege of standing in Joshua's presence, or in this tiny, perfect corner of perfection that he maintained. He would have been lucky to escape with his wings intact if he'd tried. Now, of course, no one would have been able to stop him.
"Good morning, Castiel," Joshua said, as if time wasn't a meaningless concept in Heaven, where there was no sun to rise or set. "I thought you might be stopping by."
"I thought it would be appropriate to do so," Castiel said. He shifted, unaccustomed to spending so much time in his natural form, he found that he itched to put his hands into pockets of a coat that was not there. The flesh that served as his vessel was tucked away in a side dimension. If he was to attempt to wear it in Heaven, it would be incinerated instantly, and he'd grown rather fond of it. Without any Humans around to enforce the paradigm, Castiel could see with his true eyes, speak with his true voice, and have it understood.
It should have been a relief, but it more felt like he was exposed, vulnerable. Castiel reminded himself that he had a blade tucked away under a furled brane, and that he was in no danger from the gardener.
"Looking for an explanation?" Joshua didn't turn to look at him, continuing to pinch wilted blooms off their bushes.
Castiel made a fluid gesture that might have been a shrug. "That would be nice, but I suppose it's rather a lot to hope for. I don't expect Father to explain his absence, now. I suppose that I have... resigned... myself to his absence."
Joshua did raise his eyes then, offering curiosity in a tangle of hyperstrings. "But you still have a question?"
Castiel shifted uneasily. "Why me? No one else was restored. I checked. Why me?"
"You want to believe you're special?"
"He resurrected me, and no one else." Castiel said, "I know I'm special. I just have no idea why."
"I think He likes you," Joshua said, with a faint smile, "I think He's... fond of you. The first Angel to rebel for the love of Humanity, because it was right and just, because you figured it out first."
Castiel narrowed his wavelength of perception. "Figured what out?"
Joshua returned to his tending, reaching up in the boughs of the tree to pluck something from amongst the leaves. "That free will was not only gifted to Humans."
Castiel sighed, breathing out coils of indeterminate photons. "Joshua-"
"I don't think He'll speak to me again," Joshua said, abruptly, interrupting. "I think He's moving on, leaving this Sphere. Maybe He'll come back, but I don't think so. I think we have to go find Him some day, when we're ready. I think He was just waiting until the last of His children started thinking for themselves."
"Is that what He told you?"
"No," Joshua said, kindly, "But we've been talking long enough that I can figure out his thinking. He did have one last message, though. For you."
Castiel felt like he was still in his Vessel, small and cramped and on the edge of something he didn't understand. It was like a relic of emotion, of anticipation and dread. Those emotions were not accessible to him in his true form, lacking hormones and neurotransmitters to affect the thought process, but it seemed that there was an analogy for an energy being. It was unfamiliar, though Castiel thought he recognised it in his memory. When he had been young, newly formed, these sensations had resonated through every nanometre of his being. He had been taught to suppress them, to discard them, as had the rest of the Host. Emotion was the weakness of Humanity, he had been taught. The Host was purer of purpose, of design.
But if they had not been intended to feel emotion, they would never have been able to do so in the first place. It had taken Castiel a long time to realise that the suppression of emotion served their superiors' purposes far too well.
"What was it?" he asked, trying not to let his newfound emotions show.
Joshua stilled himself for a moment, as if he were reluctant to relay the message. "Everything that happens now, you must take responsibility for. You set foot off the path, and so you are a trailblazer, a leader, whether you intended it or not. With free will comes the need to accept that your decisions have consequences."
Castiel's skeins knotted, an unpleasant feeling. "I see," he said.
"And," Joshua continued, "He wanted you to know: He's proud of you."
Castiel felt unlike he ever had in his existence. He wasn't sure exactly what that feeling was. "Thank you," he said, for lack of a better response.
"You're welcome, Castiel," Joshua said, "Here." He held out the thing that he'd pulled from the tree. "For luck."
It was a nectarine, perfectly ripe and juicy. Castiel had no idea how it could even exist in this multidimensional schema, but he took it, turning it over in his hands before taking an experimental bite. The flavour flooded his senses, tasting every fruit every flowered, a universe of knowledge bound in a kernel of flesh. It was delicious.
Castiel took a deep breath, inhaling the heady scent of life that permeated the garden. "Alright," he said, to himself, "Time to make some decisions." And to accept the consequences, whatever they might be.