fic: Thy Kingdom Come
Title: Thy Kingdom Come
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Castiel, Dean/Alastair
Rating: PG
Warnings: It's a fairy tale?
Spoilers: Season 4
Length: 970
Disclaimer: These characters will never belong to me.
Summary: Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Heaven, there lived an angel named Castiel.
A/N: My first fairy tale. I don't really want to say too much about it, so I'll just let the story speak for itself.
----
Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Heaven, there lived an angel named Castiel. He was a true servant of God, and a warrior among his brothers and sisters. He lived a quiet life in a land of light and peace, that stretched on forever in rolling hills and fields of green.
One day, Castiel looked down from Heaven, and a world of glass opened at his feet.
The other angels looked to him and said, "You must go, brother. Save the righteous man from Hell, for he will save the world."
Castiel looked down into the cacophony open before him, swirling in endless beams of pain and fury, and he knew what he must do...so he fell.
Through time and space he fell. He reached, and spun through the air, his wings snagging on the jagged fibers of the atmosphere and ripping to smoldering shreds as he tumbled, fast and hard toward the raging sea at the bottom.
Then, through the sea he sank. Down, and down, spiralling through the empty blackness. As black and lonely as the very corners of the universe, and as cold and unyielding. It froze his grace and tarnished his goodness, but he fought tirelessly until the dying waters opened up and spat him out on the rocks below.
And he hit.
He collided with the vast desert of heat and smoke that was Hell, and the sound of unimaginable hatred, such as a creature from Heaven had never heard before, split him open and smothered his light with a rank darkness.
But Castiel was strong. Battered and sore, he lifted himself from the ashes and stood. He stood and saw his charge--his mission--the righteous man to save the world, sitting as Prince on his throne, with his King at his side: both were draped in fire and ash, and towered over their dominion as a twisted version of father and son.
The angel looked upon the Prince and saw that he was terrible and beautiful. He was what was and what is yet to come. A pinprick of light in the darkness, edging ever closer to the abyss and welcoming it with open arms. His right hand was outstretched in offering, while his left held aloft his fury and his disease--the sword of his fall.
The Prince gazed curiously upon the fallen star at the center of his kingdom, and he spoke in a voice unholy and violent.
"Where do you come from?" the Prince asked.
"Yes," hissed the King, "where do you come from, with those pretty little wings of yours?"
"I am Castiel," the angel spoke. "An angel of the Lord!" His voice was pure and strong, and through his eyes shone the very light of Heaven.
The Prince's scream rang out in the hall, a hysterical and tortured sound.
"Why have you come!" the Prince shouted. His anger, like a crazed animal clawing at its cage, prodded mercilessly at the corners of light in the angel at his feet.
"I have come to save you, Dean Winchester," Castiel replied, unwavering and steadfast.
The Prince's fury erupted in light and shadow. It screamed along the walls and shattered souls in the deepest circles of Hell. He rose gracefully, gilded in crimson and gold, and he descended his throne. He strode to the angel at his feet, and with breath hot and hateful, he whispered in the angel's ear.
"I ought to rip out your insides, angel." He smiled, and it was wretched and hideous to behold. "Go back where you came from. You are not wanted here."
The King laughed uproariously from his throne, "This one's mine, angel. He broke, and now he's mine."
Castiel saw that the Prince was indeed broken. A ravenous version of what he once was, bound and willing to serve his master for all eternity. But the choice wasn't up to the Prince, or even the King, for Heaven had work for him, and the angel had his orders.
"You cannot stop me, Alastair. You know that. This man is to return with me. Heaven has work for him."
Castiel reached out then, and held fast to the Prince. He gripped him by the shoulder and wrapped them both tightly in his wings. The Prince screamed again. He called out to his King.
"Alastair!" he cried out.
And the King cried back. He thrashed and clawed at the angel but he could not reach the Prince. The angel's hold was too strong for even a demon as mighty as the King to penetrate.
And the two rose as one, angel and man, ascending the tumultuous Hellfire and biting air that gnashed at their souls.
Castiel was strong. He was a warrior of God, made to break and reform, and he gripped the Prince tight, easing the Prince's mind and soothing away the pain and memory as they flew through the night.
They rose through the chaos of smoke and heat, and through the raging sea as black as pitch and as cold as the grave. And all the while Castiel poured himself into the Prince, healing the wounds and rebuilding his earthly grace with holy light until it was as bright and strong and pure as it had once been. And the Prince was righteous and good again, his soul free from the clutches of his demonic king.
When they reached the Heavenly fields, Castiel laid the Prince down in his grave of earth and rock, and woke him with a gentle whisper that filled his lungs and opened his eyes. And as the Prince climbed back to Earth, Castiel flew home: his mission complete.
From the far reaches of Heaven, sounding as trumpets and a mighty wind, the angels sang out that the righteous man had been saved; "Dean Winchester has been saved!"
the end.