Glimpse The Descent...
Title: Glimpse The Descent.
Author: fate_incomplete
Recipient: 888mph as part of castielfest
Beta: pyjamagurl
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel (friendship or slash depending how you see it)
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Epsiode 5.04
Warnings: None
Word Count: 4900
Prompt: Future!fic set before the events in 5.04
Summary: Events leading to the future in 5.04. It was no one particular moment, just a gentle slide as everything slowly unravelled. Castiel would stand with Dean till the end no matter how much it broke him.
Glimpse the descent..
Hope, that once shone bright, now is faded,
I am nothing more than a jaded dream.
I push all away, yet somehow you remain,
A warmth that settles around me,
No matter the cold places I roam.
Nothing more than broken pieces,
Don’t try to put me back together
With fingers that slowly bleed.
I stand on a precipice,
If you remain too close we’ll fall together.
Watch the world crumble at my feet,
The fall I can’t elude.
Glimpse the descent that started in me,
Into a void with no end, yet it ends with you.
Abandoned to darkness,
Why does the light echo within you,
A beacon that blinds me still.
I tried to fill this numbness with you,
But you were empty and cold.
Even when all else is gone,
You are still the bitter end,
That I will always choose.
............................................
7 February 2013
The fight to save humanity was not going well. It hadn’t been going well from the start, truth be told. The apocalypse raged around them and they had front row seats to the end of the world.
Castiel sighed, as he seemed to do often these days. He was sitting on a ledge on the eighth floor of the ruins of an apartment building. He liked the seclusion, and there was something about heights he found comforting. Looking out over the destroyed remains of a neighbourhood, he absent-mindedly tried to remember what city it was, did it really matter when so many of them were in ruins now.
He was on a recon run. There had been reports of a Croatoan outbreak, yet another one. The virus was Lucifer’s weapon of mass destruction, and it was effective, spreading fear and panic as well as death. The rumours had been true and there had been numerous infected people. Castiel had taken care of as many as he had been able to, but the virus had been here for days maybe even weeks, there was too many.
The neighbourhood was a lost cause, beyond saving. He wasn’t sure how many he had killed, they had just kept coming, men, women, children, until he had been forced to leave and seek refuge in the ruins. Taking this moment to try and heal from the brawling fight.
He looked out over the maze of buildings, the horizon was obscured by haze. A lazy breeze was swirling the dust of the rubble surrounding him, caressing his face. He closed his eyes for a moment. It was silent, too quiet for an urban area like this. It should be eerie, but with all that had happened recently Castiel soaked the temporary, albeit unnatural, peace in. He stayed there, eyes closed, as still as a statue for a moment longer, before he disappeared with a rustle of feathers. Heading back to report on yet another lost battlefield of the apocalypse.
………………….....…..
The teleport didn’t exactly go to plan. Castiel slammed hard into the wall of the building Dean was using as a command centre. The collision knocked the breath from his lungs, causing him to wince. There would be bruises, again, he thought as he slumped to the floor.
Dean entered the room having heard the crash. “Jesus Cas, you ok?” He asked as he helped the angel to his feet.
“I’m fine Dean,” Castiel answered through gritted teeth, doing his best to take his own weight rather than lean on Dean. He had been hiding his weakness from Dean for so long now it was almost second nature. “Just, mistimed the landing,” he said, trying to imitate one of Dean’s smirks to cover the pain.
“Yeah well, your landings get much rougher and I’ll have to ground you,” Dean tried to joke back, the lopsided smile on his lips not reaching his eyes. He wasn’t blind, he knew the angel had been getting weaker, he just couldn’t quite bring himself to ask how much weaker.
He helped Castiel over to the table and sat him down in one of the chairs. He grabbed a glass and poured himself a drink, practically filling the glass with scotch. From the look in Castiel’s eyes he would need it. “Well?” he asked after he had taken a gulp.
“As you thought. There were numerous people infected,” Castiel replied as he tried to sit up straighter, covering the wince that the movement brought.
“How many?”
“Dean I tried but…”
“How many?” Dean asked again, catching Castiel’s eye.
“Too many. Dean, the whole area is lost.”
..........................................
2 May 2013
It was a clear night. Dean was sitting on the hood of the Impala, looking up at the stars as he had so many times before. Only this time he was alone. It had been almost four years since he had seen his brother. He was always in his thoughts, but even more so on this night. It should be a night filled with celebration but instead he was alone.
He closed his eyes, unable to take in the cold distant beauty of the stars when so much was wrong with the world, it didn’t seem right.
“Dean.”
Dean’s eyes opened as he searched for Castiel in the darkness.
“Cas what are you doing here?”
“I believe it’s customary to have a drink to celebrate someone’s birth,” he said as he handed Dean a beer.
“Sam’s not here.”
“Does it matter?”
Even in the darkness their eyes still find each other. Castiel held up his own bottle to Dean, “Happy birthday Sam.”
Dean clinked his bottle to Castiel’s but couldn’t bring himself to return the toast, they drank in silence instead.
They finished their beers, but remain where they were, neither really wanting to return to the camp and the reality it held. There was silence, but as usual it was comfortable. Amongst all the misery, a moment of respite shared together.
…….......…………………….
28 August 2013
They had gotten separated somehow. Dean could only hope the others had gotten out. He checked his ammo, looked over to Castiel who was doing the same. It wasn’t that long ago that Castiel hadn’t needed a gun. It had been a bad day and somehow the sight of Castiel deftly loading his gun just seemed to make it worse.
He pushed down the familiar guilt and tried to concentrate on their current situation. They needed to get out quick before the Croats surrounded them. Just another usual day in what their lives had become. At least it seemed as though most of the Croats had followed him and Castiel, maybe the others would get out at least.
He signalled to Castiel to move down the alley. Castiel nodded and took point, Dean following, keeping an eye on their backs. They moved quietly, no need for words, a glance and a quick gesture, all the communication they needed after years of fighting together.
He watched Castiel as he moved, every movement so familiar. He still moved with his otherworldly grace despite his weakened state, but Dean couldn’t help the thought that only a few months ago Castiel would have already teleported them to safety. He still hadn’t found the courage to ask Castiel just how much of his grace he had lost. It was a conversation he didn’t think he had the strength to face.
They reached the end of the alley, both crouching and surveying the deserted street. Dean pointed at a car about a hundred metres down the street. They moved out into the open, only getting a few steps before they were spotted. They stood shoulder to shoulder firing at the mob of Croats that was storming towards them.
“Dean go!” Castiel yelled at him.
“Cas.”
“Dean go, I’ll be right behind you.”
Dean hesitated for a moment, glancing briefly at the determined look on Castiel’s face. He turned and sprinted to the car, the shots of Castiel’s gun seeming to keep time with his pounding steps. He saw more Croats approaching from the other end of the street. They were still a block away; he might just have time to hot wire the car. He only hoped the damn car still had fuel in it when its owner had abandoned it.
As the wires sparked and the engine gurgled to life he eyed the gauge, closing his eyes briefly in relief as he saw the fuel gauge move to half full. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, fishtailing slightly as he headed towards Castiel. He swore under his breath as he saw the angel surrounded by Croats. Castiel had dropped his gun and was fighting with a blade.
He slammed on the breaks as he reached Castiel, “Cas get in the car!”
Castiel turned and grabbed the door handle but as he did a Croat dragged him down. Dean was out of the car before Castiel even hit the ground. He fired at the Croats frantically, getting to the other side of the car to see three Croats on top of Castiel, one of them had a knife. He fired but not before the knife descended. As the Croat fell dead the knife was still in his hand, dripping with Castiel’s blood.
He dragged the remaining Croats from Cas and shoved him in the open door, slamming it shut behind him. He scrambled over the bonnet of the car and into the driver’s seat. The tyres screeched as he accelerated, driving over at least one Croat as it tried to get in the car.
“Cas, are you with me?” He glanced at Castiel when he didn’t get an answer and saw blood soaking Castiel’s shirt. “Fuck!” he couldn’t stop to tend his wounds, not yet.
He drove till they were into safe territory whispering, “Stay with me Cas,” over and over. They were on the outskirts of the city before he dared stop. He pulled Castiel from the car so he could get his shirt off to see where all the blood was coming from. As he pushed the shirt aside he sat back on his heels in shock, “Jesus Cas,” he whispered as his eyes took in the stab wound still oozing blood.
That wasn’t the only injury though. It looked like he had taken at least two other knife wounds in the fight, there was an ugly purple bruise forming on his ribs that were most likely broken, but is was also surrounded by numerous other bruises that seemed to be days old. Probably from the fight they had been in with Croatoan victims three days ago.
“Cas you stubborn son of a bitch, why didn’t you tell me.” He ripped strips from his shirt to use as temporary bandages to stop the bleeding. He didn’t think it was a life threatening wound but he had lost a lot of blood. As he put pressure on the bandage Castiel’s eyes opened. He struggled to sit up, trying to pull his shirt closed as he did.
“Dean I’m fine,” he said his voice thick with pain.
“Like hell you are.”
“It’s nothing, it will heal.”
“Like those other bruises I suppose.”
Castiel merely glared at him stubbornly.
“Cas you’re not fine are you? How long have you been like this? Not healing I mean.” Castiel shrugged looking away from Dean’s gaze.
“Cas.”
“A while, a few months” Castiel admitted.
“You should have told me,” he said quietly, and I should have asked he added silently.
“I’m still healing, it’s just slower.”
“So what, your mojo is gone?”
“No,” he said as he looked back to Dean, “I still have some, just not much.”
.......................................
2 November 2013
Dean waited as the others packed weapons and supplies; it was still early, barely light. He glanced back towards one of the cabins in the camp for what seemed like the hundredth time as he resisted the desire to tell them to hurry up. Just as they appeared to finally be ready the cabin door opened. Dean watched as Castiel strode towards him, already preparing a speech in his head for why he was heading out without telling Castiel. The determined look on Castiel’s face as he reached him froze the words on his tongue.
“Cas we’re heading out, we’ll be back soon.”
“I know, I’m coming with you.”
“Cas we don’t have time...” Castiel ignored him and jumped into the passenger seat.
“Damn it,” Dean whispered.
He tried to rationalise that Castiel was needed here, that it was best if someone remained behind to lead the rest of the camp if he didn’t return. The logic didn’t quiet hold true when the constant guilt he felt at Castiel’s weakened state ate away at the argument. Trying to keep Castiel out of the dangerous mission they were going on had been easy when it had simply been a matter of leaving without telling him. There would be no way of leaving without him now. He got into the car, glancing at Castiel with a mixture of fond resignation and guilt.
“I don’t need you to protect me Dean,” Castiel said without looking at him.
The familiar bite of guilt was almost like an old friend, but even if he tried to deny it he was glad the angel was there, he always was.
……………….....…………
20 February 2014
“Sam, Sam, Sam. You are one hard human to track down.”
Sam tried to move, to scream, to do anything but couldn’t. Lucifer had him pinned to the wall, this time there was no escape, he was alone, and there was no one to help him.
“I told you it would happen here, in Detroit,” Lucifer said gesturing with his vessels arms to the city out the window. His vessel, Nick, was barely holding together, his face little more than flakes of skin, twisted by the smile forced onto his face by Lucifer who rode him from within.
“What Sammy, I didn’t quite catch that?” He waved his hand releasing his hold on Sam’s vocal cords.
“I’m going to fucking kill you, you son of a bi..:”
“Language Sam,” he said as he wiggled a finger at Sam. “You’re not going to kill me. In fact you’re going to say yes, right now”
“Over my dead body!”
“Nope, afraid it doesn’t work like that, unfortunately, would be so much easier if it did though”. Lucifer crossed the room in the blink of an eye, his face inches from Sam’s as he placed a hand on the wall by Sam’s head and leant in.
“You’re going to say yes,” his other hand cupped Sam’s cheek. Sam tried with all he had to cringe away from it, but was unable to move, pinned by Lucifers power.
“Never.”
“Oh Sammy, so angry, so defiant, but really it’s all pointless. You see I have a little trick up my sleeve.”
He removed his hand from Sam’s face and waved it across the wall. A vision of hell appearing with rushing wind and a deafening roar, carrying screams of damned souls and gleeful laughter of demons.
“I have something for you, a gift,” Lucifer whispered into his ears. Almost against his will Sam’s eyes were drawn to the vision of hell, to the figure screaming in agony, chains tearing at his flesh. The figures head lolled back as another scream tore from his throat and Sam saw his face. His brother’s face.
“No Dean!” he screamed.
“This is what I am going to do to your brother. I am going to tear the flesh from his bones over and over again, till there is nothing left of him. Then I am going to put him back together and do it all over again, and again, and again.”
“No, it’s a lie,” Sam whispered as tears flowed down his cheeks, unable to tear his eyes from his brother’s tormented face.
“No, it’s inevitable,” Lucifer replied. “You see, I know where your brother is. It took me a while, but I finally found him. Even now my demons are on their way to bring him to me. All of them. There’s no escape for him this time. Not even that bastard traitorous brother of mine can save him this time.”
“No. No,” Sam whispered over and over.
“But you can save him Sam. Only you.”
Sam didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to believe him, but it was too much.
“No,” he whispered again, though this time there was no defiance, no anger, only defeat. It was too much, he couldn’t let what he was watching become a reality.
“Only you can save him Sammy,” Lucifer whispered silkily smooth into his ear.
Sam watched as the figure of his brother was torn to bits. Something within him broke.
“Yes,” he whispered barely audible, but it was enough. Lucifer smiled, and with that the world was ended. Sam closed his eyes, and when they opened again he was gone.
…………..……………..
Castiel felt them coming, so many of them, “Dean!”
At his frantic cry Dean’s head snapped up, his hand instinctively going to the shot gun on the table. Castiel rushed through the door, his eyes wide with alarm. He saw the gun in Dean’s hand.
“That won’t be of any use, there are too many demons coming. Hundreds of them,” he said. The edge of fear in his voice causing Deans heart to constrict in response, Castiel rarely showed fear.
“Dean you have to get out of here, I’ll hold them off, give you a chance to...”
“No Cas,” Dean cut him off.
“Dean, there are too many, I can’t protect you.”
“Damn it Cas, I’m not leaving you,” his voice hard, broking no argument.
Their eyes caught each other, if they were going down it would be together, as they had been for so long now. Castiel nodded his head slightly.
“I may be able to get us both out of here.”
“You sure? Last time you teleported was months ago, it almost killed you.”
“Dean, I either try or we stay here and die anyway.”
“Good point.”
Castiel held his hand up preparing to teleport them both when his face suddenly lost all colour, his head spinning to face north. “No,” he whispered as he dropped to his knees.
Dean reached out trying to catch the angel before he hit the floor. His hands on Castiel’s shoulders, he felt the angel shudder beneath them, as if all the energy had suddenly been drained from him.
“Cas?” He growled in concern, shaking the angel to try and get him to look at him, but his gaze was blank, as if his eyes were fixed on some far distant vista that Dean couldn’t perceive.
“No, Sam,” Castiel whispered without thinking.
Dean shook him harder, “Cas what’s wrong, what’s happened to Sam,” he all but yelled, sensing that something cataclysmic had occurred though no idea what.
A demon appeared at the door. She slinked in, a knowing look on her face as she saw the angel slumped to his knees, Dean frantically trying to get his attention as he aimed the shot gun at her.
“Hello Dean, long time no see,” she said tauntingly.
“Meg.”
He kept the shotgun aimed at her, but he sensed other demons at his back, they were surrounded.
“Well, not really the time to have your angel on his knees now is it Deano, though then again, why not get one more blow before the end. I’m sure your darling brother won’t mind waiting a few minutes, well he’s not exactly your brother anymore I guess.”
“What the hell are you talking about,” Dean asked through gritted teeth.
“Why don’t you ask angel boy there,” she said indicating Castiel, whose eyes were starting to focus on the room again and the demons surrounding them
“Cas?” Dean asked, fear edging into his voice, a knot of dread in his stomach.
“Dean, not now we need to get...”
“Cas, what did you just see?” he turned to glare at Castiel who’s eyes were pleading for him not to ask that question.
“Dean.”
“Cas what did you see!”
“Dean, I’m sorry.”
“No he wouldn’t have, he wouldn’t.”
“Dean.”
A red haze seemed to descend over Dean’s vision. He saw Meg standing before him, a smug smile on her face. Thinking of his brother, lost to him, he knew only rage. He would wipe that smug smile from her face if it was the last thing he did. As he rushed towards her dozens of demons swarmed into the room towards him.
He fired the shot gun point blank into Meg’s face. He barely had time to counter a knife from a demon to the side, wasn’t quick enough to see the one that caught him in the back. He heard a crash behind him and turned to see Castiel dispatching two demons, fighting his way to him. He knew that Castiel would teleport them the instant he reached him. His eyes were cold, dead. He was going nowhere, his brother was lost, he might as well die here taking as many of the demon sons of bitches with him as he could.
He turned from Castiel and flung himself at the demons, swinging his knife with deadly accuracy. He took several more cuts and a hard knock to the ribs that almost knocked him from his feet before Castiel finally managed to reach him. As Dean felt Castiel’s hand on his shoulder he turned screaming in blind fury, before the room full of demons was gone and the two of them were standing in a field somewhere.
He barley took the time to notice they had teleported, he was still screaming wordlessly. His fists scrunched in the front of Castiel’s shirt, he was throwing punches without even realising. Grief and loss overwhelming him, his punches were wild, landing with little force. He could barely see through his tears till he felt Castiel slump. The haze lifted as Castiel collapsed.
“Cas,” he sobbed. “Cas no,” his voice desolate as he saw the blood streaming from Castiel’s nose, not from his punches but from the effort of teleporting them both.
His hands clutched at Castiel’s shirt, no longer in anger but frantic as he dropped to his knees beside the fallen angel, pulling his near lifeless body to his chest. Tears still flowed freely down his cheeks. “Cas no, I can’t lose you too, you’re all I have. You’re all I ever had.”
His head bent forward resting against Castiel’s cheek, “Cas no, not for me.” All the fury was completely gone, he had lost his brother to Lucifer and as he cradled Castiel’s body, he feared he was about to lose the only good thing left. He felt Castiel take a shallow breath, he lifted his head peering at Castiel’s face, willing him to be alright, to stay with him. Knowing he would be beyond hope or caring if Castiel died in his arms after giving everything for him. Castiel’s eyes fluttered open.
”Cas?”
“Dean,” he whispered back.
“I’m sorry Cas. You should have left me there.”
“No, I never could,” he replied before lapsing back into unconsciousness.
Dean cradled him against his chest. Lost and alone. Castiel felt cold to Dean’s touch. He was never cold. Whatever grace he had left was gone.
..........................................
2 May 2014
“Dean they’re gone” Castiel said quietly, wishing he didn’t have to tell Dean.
“What the hell do you mean gone?” Dean said, turning to face Castiel, his anger rising.
“They left,” Castiel shrugged his shoulder, “All of them.”
“What?”
“They gave up, I don’t know, guess they decided they were on the losing side of the battle and they weren’t going to stay to witness the carnage,” Castiel elaborated, hesitantly waiting for Dean’s reaction.
Dean rubbed agitatedly at his face, his lips pressed tight in anger, “When the hell were you planning on telling me! Damn it Cas!”
“I kept hoping we’d find a way, a way to kill Lucifer, I didn’t…I didn’t want you to lose hope,” he replied, looking down at his feet, not able to look Dean in the eye.
“Huh. Well fat lot of good hope has done us. What the hell are you still even doing here then Cas, why didn’t you leave? Could you have?”
Castiel took a moment to answer, “I don’t know if they would have let me leave.” He looked out across the junkyard back towards the camp. “Doesn’t matter, I wouldn’t have went anyway.’
“What, why not,” Dean asked disbelievingly, as if still not used to the angels loyalty.
Castiel looked back up, meeting and holding Dean’s eyes before replying, “Would you?”
They shared the look for a moment longer, Castiel’s eyes still holding a hint of understanding, compassion, but also an edge of coldness. A coldness that was slowly building, turning him numb. In that moment, both remained silent, but the silence was no longer one of shared comfort or camaraderie. Neither seemed capable of giving the other what they needed any more. Dean turned away and walked back to the camp, leaving Castiel alone.
………................……….
18 August 2014
Castiel looked out over the camp, it was still early morning, the horizon just starting to glow. He could hear voices somewhere, but otherwise everything was quiet. Shivering in the cold morning air, he grabbed an old jacket from near the door before heading out.
The voices drifted closer as he walked through the camp, he turned a corner and saw that it was just a man he didn’t really know talking with Chuck. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and walked past without looking up at them. He could feel Chuck’s eyes on him nonetheless.
He liked the prophet but rarely spoke to him, even though he often saw Chuck looking at him as if there is something he wanted to say. Chuck had stopped getting visions months ago, or at least so he had said. Castiel didn’t know if it was true, didn’t want to know. Either Chuck had stopped getting visions as the angels had left, or he was still getting them but was refusing to share them because of whatever bleak end he had seen. Either way, Castiel didn’t want to find out.
He hated the cold, but he kept walking, trying to bury his hands deeper into his pockets and hunch into himself in an effort to shut it out. He crawled through a hole in the fence and made his way up the hill that overlooked the camp.
He looked down over the rag tag camp he had come to call home. There was still almost no movement in the cold predawn, most of the camp still blissfully asleep. He envied them the luxury, one that seemed to elude him. His eyes sought out Dean’s cabin. The lights were on. He knew that Dean rarely slept either.
His hand instinctively went to the flask in his pocket, as he drank his eyes rarely left the building.
Either the liquor warmed him or his hands had gone numb, he wasn’t really sure. Everything about him seemed to be numb or cold lately. He felt hollow and could find nothing to change it, even the alcohol wouldn’t push it away, it was always there.
As the weak rays of the sun cleared the horizon, the door to Dean’s cabin opened, the light doing little to shed the dreariness of the world. Castiel took another swig from the flask before pocketing it as he watched Dean walk outside. He started to walk back to the camp, going through the motions for yet another day.
…………….................
13 November 2014
The passion he saw in the past Dean brought a small smile to his lips, he remembered that passion so well, though the memory brings only sadness at how much has been lost, destroyed. They have been fighting on auto pilot for months. The fearless leader act and bravado may fool the others, but Castiel could always see past it. The colt plan was a last ditch effort. One last defiant act. Dean might still have been holding out a flickering light of hope to their followers, but Castiel knew the light in his own heart had gone out. The plan was little more than assisted suicide.
He watched the two Deans argue. He couldn’t hear their words, but he knew what they were saying. It was the suicide mission that had been inevitable for months. He knew he should probably care more and not be so fatalistic. He watched the anger of the younger Dean and wondered, maybe there was still a chance, a small glimmer of hope that this Dean won’t make the same choices, maybe he’ll make a different future, and this might not be the end.
Once he would have believed that destiny couldn’t be changed. He no longer knew if he believed that. If this was all part of God’s plan, it sucked, and God needed a new plan. Seeing as God didn’t seem to be around or care enough to look out for the game plan, well maybe Dean from the past could do it instead. Not that it mattered. He was going to his death and he would do it willingly. He chose to stand by Dean, so he would do this, follow it through to the bitter end. Not that it mattered, nothing did.
....................................