HOMG I WROT SPN FIC
Title: After
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gen
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or anything to do with it.
Notes: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR 5.22. Also I am drunk.
Summary: Castiel returns to Heaven. It's not at all like he imagined.
The first thing he does upon regaining his wings-after bringing Bobby back and healing Dean-is go for a long, long fly.
Twice he circles the earth. He spins toward the sun, then rockets towards the ocean, only just pulling up. His wings graze the water.
The Apocalypse is over. He’s still getting used to the idea; no more running, no more fighting, no more falling… no more wondering if today’s the day Dean gives in…
He’s been battered, beaten, had his faith torn away, his grace faded; he’s been drunk and maudlin and ready to die, over and over.
And now… he’s not. He’s an angel again. He can hear the Host in his head, his brothers, and he can feel God’s whisper through his wings. I have a task for you, Castiel.
He circles again, then comes to a halt in Dean’s car.
He is less naïve than before. He knows what it is to be human, and Dean’s pain is all too real. He’s known the desire to crawl into a liquor store and burn through its contents; hell, he’s succumbed to it himself.
The knowledge scares him. His brothers await. He cannot stay with Dean.
He leaves.
--
The gates to Heaven are carved of pearl.
They weren’t always that way. It was Michael’s idea, when the humans started referring to Heaven as guarded by “pearly gates”.
Castiel and Micheal never really knew each other. Michael had been an archangel after all, God’s favored after Lucifer’s fall, and Castiel had been just another soldier, one among a million others like him.
Now, though. Now. Castiel is favored. He knows he is different, much different, than before. He is no longer just a soldier. He is the fifth to look upon the face of God, now, and that gives him a sort of authority, he thinks.
He strolls through the gates under his own steam, his grace burning stronger than ever.
At long last, he is home.
--
Raphael is there to greet him.
“Castiel,” he says, and Castiel shudders. He has not forgotten it was Raphael who killed him the first time, Raphael whom he trapped in holy oil and left alone. The Host tells him Raphael had been trapped for three months before finally being released. The thought pleases him and makes him sick.
“Raphael,” Castiel responds. He means for it to sound respectful, but the tone is bitter and resentful. He hates it.
“There is a new position for you, I see,” Raphael says. “Our Father granted it?”
“He is not as dead as you believed, brother,” Castiel says. Raphael’s wings twitch.
“I can see that. We have secured a special place for you. Come, Castiel.”
He follows.
--
There are no visitors.
He is given an office, and though it is beautiful, and though he can see the whole of Heaven through its windows, he cannot leave. Raphael says his brothers and sisters will come for him; it is a lie.
They want nothing to do with the traitor, despite their Father’s wishes. God has disappeared again, after all-no other word, not even to Castiel.
He thinks it is like the first war, when Lucifer was cast into Hell. He wonders if his brothers will try the same to him.
--
Joshua visits.
He says God is proud of Castiel.
Castiel thinks God is full of shit.
It scares him.
--
“I’m leaving.”
Joshua looks up from pruning Castiel’s ficus. “You’re what?”
“I made a mistake.”
Joshua puts down his shears, crosses the room, and perches on the edge of Castiel’s expansive mahogany desk.
“Do you think God made a mistake?”
Castiel shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe… Maybe I wasn’t supposed to live. Maybe I was supposed to die. Maybe it would be better if I had.”
“You don’t believe that.”
Castiel sighs. Joshua is God’s youngest, younger even than Castiel, but not by much. His faith in God never ceases, never wavers. Castiel cannot remember a time when his own was so unshakable. It seems like millenia.
“I’m sorry, Joshua.”
Joshua smiles. “Father is proud,” he says.
The words echo through his wings as he takes a long, deep breath and plunges out of Heaven.
--
Dean stares at the half-empty bottle of bourbon. Brown liquid coats the bottom of a glass he’s long-since abandoned for straight swigs.
Lisa’s in bed, as is Ben, and Dean knows at this point he should be passed out on the couch.
He’s leaving tomorrow, anyway, promises be damned. He can’t do this. He can’t go on pretending to live a normal life when Sammy’s-
And he can’t do that to Ben and Lisa. The look in Lisa’s eyes just that morning when she took out the recycling and noticed all the bottles-it’s not fair to her. Not fair to Ben.
The kitchen’s swirling. There’s a buzzing in his ears that, for a split second, almost sounds like wings.
He really is losing it.
“Dean.”
A harsh, familiar voice rings out behind him. Hallucinations, now. Great.
He turns around and glares at the angel. “Whad’you wan’?” he slurs.
Castiel stares at him disapprovingly. Dean thinks the angel has no room to judge Dean’s coping techniques-he was the one who suggested they all get shitfaced on the eve of the Apocalypse.
“Dean, come with me,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because you still have to save your brother,” Castiel says. “Because we have work to do.”
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gen
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or anything to do with it.
Notes: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR 5.22. Also I am drunk.
Summary: Castiel returns to Heaven. It's not at all like he imagined.
The first thing he does upon regaining his wings-after bringing Bobby back and healing Dean-is go for a long, long fly.
Twice he circles the earth. He spins toward the sun, then rockets towards the ocean, only just pulling up. His wings graze the water.
The Apocalypse is over. He’s still getting used to the idea; no more running, no more fighting, no more falling… no more wondering if today’s the day Dean gives in…
He’s been battered, beaten, had his faith torn away, his grace faded; he’s been drunk and maudlin and ready to die, over and over.
And now… he’s not. He’s an angel again. He can hear the Host in his head, his brothers, and he can feel God’s whisper through his wings. I have a task for you, Castiel.
He circles again, then comes to a halt in Dean’s car.
He is less naïve than before. He knows what it is to be human, and Dean’s pain is all too real. He’s known the desire to crawl into a liquor store and burn through its contents; hell, he’s succumbed to it himself.
The knowledge scares him. His brothers await. He cannot stay with Dean.
He leaves.
--
The gates to Heaven are carved of pearl.
They weren’t always that way. It was Michael’s idea, when the humans started referring to Heaven as guarded by “pearly gates”.
Castiel and Micheal never really knew each other. Michael had been an archangel after all, God’s favored after Lucifer’s fall, and Castiel had been just another soldier, one among a million others like him.
Now, though. Now. Castiel is favored. He knows he is different, much different, than before. He is no longer just a soldier. He is the fifth to look upon the face of God, now, and that gives him a sort of authority, he thinks.
He strolls through the gates under his own steam, his grace burning stronger than ever.
At long last, he is home.
--
Raphael is there to greet him.
“Castiel,” he says, and Castiel shudders. He has not forgotten it was Raphael who killed him the first time, Raphael whom he trapped in holy oil and left alone. The Host tells him Raphael had been trapped for three months before finally being released. The thought pleases him and makes him sick.
“Raphael,” Castiel responds. He means for it to sound respectful, but the tone is bitter and resentful. He hates it.
“There is a new position for you, I see,” Raphael says. “Our Father granted it?”
“He is not as dead as you believed, brother,” Castiel says. Raphael’s wings twitch.
“I can see that. We have secured a special place for you. Come, Castiel.”
He follows.
--
There are no visitors.
He is given an office, and though it is beautiful, and though he can see the whole of Heaven through its windows, he cannot leave. Raphael says his brothers and sisters will come for him; it is a lie.
They want nothing to do with the traitor, despite their Father’s wishes. God has disappeared again, after all-no other word, not even to Castiel.
He thinks it is like the first war, when Lucifer was cast into Hell. He wonders if his brothers will try the same to him.
--
Joshua visits.
He says God is proud of Castiel.
Castiel thinks God is full of shit.
It scares him.
--
“I’m leaving.”
Joshua looks up from pruning Castiel’s ficus. “You’re what?”
“I made a mistake.”
Joshua puts down his shears, crosses the room, and perches on the edge of Castiel’s expansive mahogany desk.
“Do you think God made a mistake?”
Castiel shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe… Maybe I wasn’t supposed to live. Maybe I was supposed to die. Maybe it would be better if I had.”
“You don’t believe that.”
Castiel sighs. Joshua is God’s youngest, younger even than Castiel, but not by much. His faith in God never ceases, never wavers. Castiel cannot remember a time when his own was so unshakable. It seems like millenia.
“I’m sorry, Joshua.”
Joshua smiles. “Father is proud,” he says.
The words echo through his wings as he takes a long, deep breath and plunges out of Heaven.
--
Dean stares at the half-empty bottle of bourbon. Brown liquid coats the bottom of a glass he’s long-since abandoned for straight swigs.
Lisa’s in bed, as is Ben, and Dean knows at this point he should be passed out on the couch.
He’s leaving tomorrow, anyway, promises be damned. He can’t do this. He can’t go on pretending to live a normal life when Sammy’s-
And he can’t do that to Ben and Lisa. The look in Lisa’s eyes just that morning when she took out the recycling and noticed all the bottles-it’s not fair to her. Not fair to Ben.
The kitchen’s swirling. There’s a buzzing in his ears that, for a split second, almost sounds like wings.
He really is losing it.
“Dean.”
A harsh, familiar voice rings out behind him. Hallucinations, now. Great.
He turns around and glares at the angel. “Whad’you wan’?” he slurs.
Castiel stares at him disapprovingly. Dean thinks the angel has no room to judge Dean’s coping techniques-he was the one who suggested they all get shitfaced on the eve of the Apocalypse.
“Dean, come with me,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because you still have to save your brother,” Castiel says. “Because we have work to do.”