Reaching for the Ground: Chapter One - Heaven and Hell
Chapter One - Heaven and Hell
“So we’ve managed to re-plant some of the plants in the Garden, but then you’ve got the fountain which has been irreparably damaged. You know, the one with the statue of Cupid drawing back his bow?”
Castiel winced, surveying the destruction in front of him. “Yes, I remember the one. They took rather a lot of liberties with the depiction of Cupid though, did they not?”
“Michelangelo said it was ‘artistic license.’ He said he accentuated Cupid’s best features, and improved on the worst.”
Castiel took a long look at the perfectly sculpted features of the statue, at the toned torso and strong arms holding a bow and arrow. “A lot of improvement.”
“Oh, massive, yes,” the angel nodded enthusiastically. “Well anyhow, it was like someone had held a, what do they call it? A fraternity party in there or something-foam everywhere. When we cleared it, we found poor Cupid, broken in two. The statue I mean, not the actual Cupid. I imagine it would take a lot more than partying hard to break him in two.”
Castiel sighed heavily and turned away from surveying the destruction. When he’d been accepted back to Heaven, when he’d been called a Sheriff and told to go and sort everything out, he never envisaged he would be talking about garden ornaments with one of the lower-orders. It was all so mundane.
The angel stood there expectantly, as if waiting for more orders. Castiel just shook his head, said a tired, “Thank you. That will be all,” before dismissing him. He sighed once more, before turning back to The List.
The List. It seemed to get longer every day. He’d made it with good intentions upon this return; a list of things that needed sorting, needed rectifying so that Heaven could once again become the great place of his youth. The thing was, as he spent more time up there, he realized firstly what an impossible task it was, and secondly how it had probably never been as perfect as he’d remembered. Most of the angels listened to him, but there were a few who disobeyed for the sake of it. He could make them shake in fear if he wanted, feel the very essence of his wrath if he were so inclined. After a few months, he’d lost will to fight somewhat. He’d kicked ass with all the big names, and had managed to form a band of trusty followers who could quell any low-level uprising. The rest involved dealing with the more mundane aspects of ruling like introducing a fair method of taxation, monitoring the angelic presence on earth and checking their expense forms, that sort of thing. The best he could hope for would be to retire to his own corner of heaven in a couple of years; the corner that was looking more and more like the interior of a cheap motel, complete with cable TV and a Magic Fingers bed. He made a point of not thinking about what this meant, and always studiously avoided the particular corner of Heaven that contained all the good psychiatrists, just in case.
He stared at The List, sighing in exasperation as he added ‘New statue of Cupid’ to the bottom in small, neat handwriting. Then, he rolled it up and set it aside. With a flutter of wings he was back in his Motel room, where he lay on the slightly uncomfortable bed and closed his eyes.
It appeared again. He couldn’t help it, of course; it was like the visions just came to him. He had sworn to leave well alone but then, if he was the High Sheriff Heaven, who other than God would call him out on it? Technically he was still looking after his charge, but he knew that if anyone ever found out, they would instantly think it was more than that.
Dean sat on the swing in the back garden, moving slowly back and forth. He was thinking, something Castiel had witnessed him doing countless times, but this time was slightly different. As his feet dragged in the dirt with the motion of the swing, Castiel could see they were jittery, restless even. He had been doing this more and more, Castiel noted, seeking time on his own and just sitting, contemplating often for hours at a time. Castiel had never pried into his dreams, never disturbed the domestic bliss he was living in, but there was an element in this little display that told him something wasn’t quite right.
Dean stood up and surveyed the land around him. Castiel watched, his heart sinking slightly. He was reading far too much in the smallest of actions, perhaps. Hoping Dean was pining for his old life when he hadn’t heard so much of a whisper of a prayer to him or to Sam. Dean had moved on; he should too, he reasoned. Still, he watched as Dean’s eye caught on something, three cans lined up on the far wall. He pulled something out of his pocket, the flash of silver of an air rifle, and shot three times. In the blink of an eye the cans flew off, each one bearing a neat little hole through the side. Dean spun his gun around his thumb and smiled, nodding to himself. A voice called, “Dean! Dinner in five minutes!” He turned quickly, stuffing his gun behind a plant pot before taking one last look at the cans. He shrugged his shoulders, and stepped inside the house.
Castiel was about to stop watching, unwilling to intrude on Dean’s domestic bliss any longer, when something caught his eye. A figure emerged from a clump of bushes behind the house. It jumped over the wall and walked towards the three cans, examining them carefully. It then picked them up, and arranged them in a neat row once more on the wall. Once happy, it then retrieved the gun from the plant pot and walked off with it.
Castiel wasted no time; in an instant he had left his faux motel room and was there, waiting for whatever the hell the creature was to show up. Dean had apparently chosen the domestic life, and there was no way Castiel would let anyone rob him of that choice, even if it meant leaving his post in Heaven and interfering. Thankfully, he had retained his old vessel, kept it healthy and safe in case he needed it. Though Jimmy was long gone, the body remained; a symbol of hope that one day Castiel would need to return. His heart beat loudly in the vessel’s chest as he reclaimed his old body, the sensations of falling and landing filling him with a joy he hadn’t felt in a long time.
***
Sam held the gun in his hand, and looked towards the house. At last, at long last, some sort of tangible proof that Dean was still thinking about his old life, and was keeping it from Lisa. He’d been watching Dean for weeks now-ever since the stable disaster he’d been keeping a lower profile- vowing to leave him alone if he found no evidence of Dean pining for his old life. He’d been about to give up too, when he saw the cans in the trash and had an idea. When he was younger and his dad was off on a hunt, Dean had taken him to a wood with a bag full of empty cans, and lined them all up on a log. That afternoon, Dean had taught him to how to shoot, showing him how to hold the gun, how to aim, how to shoot confidently and not be afraid of the kick back from the weapon. It was something he’d never forgotten, and something he felt sure had they waited long enough, they would have stumbled across while in Heaven.
So, he’d lined the cans up strategically on the wall, sat back, and waited. It took two full hours for Dean to come outside, and another half an hour of him on the swing, thinking, before he actually noticed them. Sam didn’t know why he had the gun on him, but reasoned it must have been through force of habit. It didn’t matter, because when Dean stood up, pulled the gun and shot all three of them clean off the wall, Sam felt a happiness coursing through him that he hadn’t felt in a long while.
Of course, he knew that Dean shooting cans off a wall wasn’t conclusive proof of his longing to go back to hunt, but he was willing to go on any little hint offered and as far as things went, this was quite a big one. The fact that he hid the gun spoke volumes; he obviously didn’t want Lisa to know. Sam picked up the cans, examining them carefully. Though out of practice, Dean certainly was still a sharp shooter, with the holes piercing all three cans at exactly the same point. Sam smiled, and rearranged them on the wall, hoping that Dean would see them another day and try again.
Sam held the gun in his hand. It was still warm, and for some reason it filled him with comfort and nostalgia. He held it close to him as he walked around the house, not really sure what to do with it. As he rounded the corner, still staring at the gun, he bumped into something incredibly solid. As he looked up, he saw a familiar pair of blue eyes staring at him, shock registering within them.
***
Castiel took a step back. “Sam?” he said, cautiously.
“Cas?”
“Sam, is that really you?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“All you?” Castiel didn’t know what to think. He hadn’t seen it, but he’d been told that Sam fell into the pit with Michael, battling with Lucifer for control of his body while trying to stop Michael from killing him. Michael hadn’t survived, so he couldn’t possibly have. It had to be a trick. He studied his face, but whereas with most demons in disguise he could see their horrible twisted features writhing under their borrowed skin, with Sam he saw nothing.
“All me.” Sam replied. “With a few added extras.” He blinked, and a bush outside the house caught on fire. He blinked again, and immediately the fire disappeared. Castiel looked suitably impressed, if a little wary. “I couldn’t save Michael. I tried, but he and Lucifer were…locked in this death match that no one wanted to give up. Michael died, and after that…I don’t know, it’s like I became stronger somehow, like he gave a small part of his power to me so I could defeat Lucifer. Once I managed to get Lucifer back in his cage, Hell kind of descended into anarchy. I got put on the rack. Not for too long, but long enough.” There was a flash in his eyes, and his mouth turned down at the edges. He shook himself, before carrying on. “Then this appeared.” He pushed down the waistband of his pants to reveal a scar, in the shape of a three-pronged fork, resting on his hipbone. “I don’t know how, but it hurt like hell for a day, then it just stopped. When they found it, it was like they were scared of me or something. They would do more or less what I wanted, so I started to… I don’t know, clean up the place a little.”
“Like a Sheriff?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Sam nodded.
“Sheriff of Hell.” Castiel contemplated it, huffing out a laugh. “So, you don’t seem surprised to see me.”
“Not really. I mean, I knew you were alive. The demons spoke about how you had been brought back, how you were more powerful than before. I didn’t know if you were going to come and rescue me, like you did with Dean.”
Castiel looked down guiltily. “I thought about it, Sam. I truly did but…” he took a deep breath, “I didn’t know if you were dead already, or your soul had been so tainted, you would have been beyond saving. Plus, Heaven was anarchy, total anarchy, and the angels needed someone to lead. I had to deal with that first. I’m still dealing with it now. I’m sorry, Sam. If I thought I had a chance of saving you, you know I would have done anything in my power to do so.”
He looked up to see Sam eyeing him. There was no hint of malice in his eyes at all. “I understand. Priorities, right? I knew you wouldn’t just abandon Heaven.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t.”
“So you’re like, the Sheriff of Heaven now or something?”
“Something like that.”
Sam smiled at him, a broad genuine grin. “Who would have thought? You practically ruling Heaven, me practically ruling Hell, and Dean….”
“Sitting round a table eating dinner with his family.”
They laughed for a moment, before stopping and looking at each other, their faces suddenly solemn. “But it’s not his family though,” Sam said quietly, “not really.”
“No, it’s not.” Castiel replied, looking into Sam’s eyes. They were both feeling exactly the same thing, he could sense it. “So why are you here?”
Sam visibly stiffed, clearing his throat. “Checking up on him. Making sure this is what he wants. And you?”
“The same. I want him to be happy, Sam.”
“So do I.” Sam looked towards the house, clearly imagining Dean inside. “Do you think he is?” He asked, quietly.
Castiel sighed, shaking his head. “No. Not really. Not from what I’ve seen. I’ve been watching him for months and he just doesn’t seem like himself. Not like the Dean I knew.”
“Me neither. I know…I know I told him to live the family life, to settle down and give up hunting.” Sam looked to the floor, shuffling from foot to foot. “But he’s not… settled. I’ve watched him and there’s no spark there at all, none of the Dean fighting instinct. It’s like he’s going through the motions. I want… I want to make sure this is what he wants, because I really don’t think it is.”
Castiel nodded, but he still had a niggling doubt. “I know how you feel, Sam… I just don’t want to destroy the life he’s built up for no good reason. I couldn’t live with myself if I thought we’d taken away his one chance of happiness. Equally, I couldn’t live with the thought I’d abandoned him to live a lie.”
Sam nodded in agreement. “Me too, Cas.” Castiel’s heart fluttered slightly at the nickname, one he hadn’t heard in a while. “That’s why I’ve got a plan.”
“A plan?” Castiel eyed him skeptically.
“A plan. I’ve been doing it on and off for a few months now, and now that you’re here, it’ll make things easier. You see, hunting’s in his blood; it’s a part of who he is, and I don’t think any kind of ‘happy families’ will ever get him rid of that. Thing is, he won’t go out looking for things, so we gotta make the hunts come to him. We can set them up, you know, the simple stuff like wendigos, ghosts, demons… all of that. If he takes the bait, we’ll know it’s what he really wants to do; if he avoids them, we’ll know all of this is what he really wants.” He pointed to the house.
Every fiber of Castiel’s being didn’t want to ask the question, but he knew it was something he had to face. “And what happens then?”
“We leave him alone. We make an agreement here and now that if he wants to stay as he is, live the domestic life like I told him to when I thought I was done for, we don’t interfere, at all. Is that a deal?”
Castiel thought for a moment, his mind flitting back to The List. This was something interesting, something more like the life he used to lead. He felt his heart beating in his chest, daring to open up all of those feelings he’d long since buried. He took a deep breath. “I agree to the terms.”
Sam smiled. “Right, now you have to kiss me.”
Castiel started in horror. “What?”
“You have to seal the deal. Protocol-I’m an agent of Hell now, remember? Kiss me.”
Castiel sighed. He really wanted this, and if kissing Sam meant that this would happen, he would do it. He leant forward, and closed his eyes, inching closer until he could feel Sam’s breath on his lips.
“Dude I was joking!” Sam said, pulling away and laughing. “Sheesh, you were really gonna kiss me! Dude!”
Castiel opened his eyes, and could feel himself blushing slightly. “I… I mean… I…”
“You haven’t changed. At all, Cas.” Sam wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. He made as if to say something more, but there was a buzzing sound coming from his pocket. “Excuse me,” he said, picking up his cell phone and answering it. “Hi. What? They did what? But why didn’t you stop them? So where…. oh, ok, fine. Tell them I’m coming to see them, and I’m gonna be pissed.” He ended the call, and put the phone back into his pocket. “Bunch of demons decided to go topside and possessed the chefs at a Papa John’s in Maine. Apparently half the customers have already contracted food poisoning.”
“So demons are trying germ warfare now?”
“No, no. These ones are too stupid. They just wanted to cause a bit of low-level havoc… you know what some demons are like. The malicious, not-too-intelligent ones anyway. And that’s fine, but we got rules now. They have to sign Statements of Intent, and I bet you anything these guys didn’t. I’d better go and kick their asses. You know, make them feel my wrath and everything.”
“I know. Only too well,” Castiel sighed. “So, shall we meet somewhere tomorrow?”
“Yeah. There’s a diner not too far away. I’ll meet you there at 9 tomorrow, and we can start brainstorming. Ok?”
“Ok.”
Sam smiled, then disappeared. Within a second, he had appeared once more, in exactly the same spot. “Oh, Cas?”
“Yes?”
“It’s good to see you, man. Really good.”
“You too, Sam.”
With that, Sam disappeared once more, leaving Castiel to stand there, contemplating what had just happened. Suddenly, he heard voices. It sounded like Lisa was coming out of the house with Ben. With a beat of his wings, he disappeared too, smiling to himself like he hadn’t in a while. The plan was definitely on.
Lisa opened the door, but Dean ran out past her. “Did you hear something?”
“Like what?”
“Like… I dunno. Like wings?”
“Like birds?”
“Yeah. Birds.” Dean looked all around, before staring up at the sky.
“No, Dean. I didn’t. Did you?”
He looked down again. “I thought… No,” he said, slightly dejectedly. “No.”
Chapter Two - Wendigo