[SPN] feel the freedom like no tomorrow (2a/7)
← prologue: a thousand ways to say goodbye ←
One: You were saved not in order to live.
It is the silence that rouses him back to consciousness.
Jimmy feels himself letting out a small groan as awareness slowly drifts back to him, as the first thing he's aware of is his head pounding insistently between his temples. His body is sore in all places, overtaxed muscles throbbing in time to his heartbeat. In fact, had it not been for the fact that Jimmy knew better, he might have thought he had just fainted from overtaxing himself or something like that. But no, Jimmy does know better-he remembers the last moments of his existence, of waking up in the Heaven that wasn't his and talking to the angel who resided in his body. He remembers wishing Castiel well, and remembers Castiel telling him to rest.
And rest is what he had done, until now.
Slowly getting up to his feet, Jimmy sways, feet stumbling around loose bits of mud and soil as the man attempts to straighten himself. His squints his eyes, so unused to the sunlight they are once again seeing after only God knew how long. Slowly, though, his eyes adjust back to the sunlight shining down on him, and Jimmy manages to stop swaying just in time to stare at a pile of trees before him, uprooted and burnt, totally destroyed by what Jimmy could only best describe as a cosmic force. Jimmy remembers where he had seen that before, in the recesses of Castiel's mind when angel and human had shared bodies. His body. This is exactly how things had been when Castiel resurrected Dean Winchester.
Somebody resurrected me, then, Jimmy thinks grimly to himself as he glances around, now half-expecting some angel to pop up and take him; the moments pass though, and nothing seems to happen. Jimmy sighs and runs fingers through his hair, squinting up at the sun once more and briefly wondering how long it's been since he's passed on. It could have been weeks, months, years, decades, centuries. Whatever the answer would be, Jimmy supposes he would find out eventually. He looks around again, just to make sure that there wouldn't be any angels randomly appearing to gank him or something. Not that he would really know why.
The minutes pass and still nobody arrives to take him, so Jimmy figures it’s safe for him to move. With slightly shaky steps he makes his way around the mess of fallen trees, grimacing at the sight; sure, looking at it from Castiel's memory had been nice, but now that he was up close there really wasn't anything nice about it-just mostly explosions and scorch marks everywhere, like a bomb having just gone off.
A celestial bomb, the man corrects himself mirthlessly as he makes his way out from the entire area, stumbling out into a proper clearing. The path he's on doesn't seem to be used so often, but it is used enough to be visible. Jimmy follows it down, going with the trail until he eventually sees a road in the distance along with a lone gas station that stands in a way that's nearly welcoming. Jimmy only takes a moment to decide, and he heads over to the gas station first. Thankfully, there is somebody manning the gas station when Jimmy gets there, and he enters the place with a fair amount of trepidation.
The bell at the door rings when Jimmy opens it, and the cashier instantly pops his head up from the newspaper to greet him. “Welcome, sir-” He suddenly pauses at the moment he sees Jimmy's face, going pale, and if that isn't a sign to him that something is Wrong then Jimmy doesn't know what is.
“Uh,” he starts unhelpfully, mentally cursing at the same time because really, couldn't a just-resurrected guy get a single break in whatever crazy thing was happening now? “I just got, um, mugged-” An internal wince as he said that, because, yeah, mugged? Real smooth there, Jimmy. Granted, he certainly was nowhere near the Winchester-level of proficiency of lying, but even so, coming up with something else other than being mugged would have been better. Jimmy pauses for a fraction of a second, shoulders sagging, and then he tries again. “-anyway. I’m lost and I’m out of cash so I was just, you know, wondering if-”
Rather than looking at him in disbelief the man at the counter instantly gets up from his seat, eyes staring at Jimmy almost fearfully as he makes a quick, fumbled reply. “Of-Of course! Anything you ask, sir!” Before Jimmy can even get another word in edgewise, the counter guy's already busy rummaging through the shelves, taking out one of everything. Needless to say, Jimmy found himself incredibly perplexed by this whole thing and makes a mental note to find out just what the hell happened here while he had been... elsewhere. (Dead was kind of awkward to say now.)
The counter guy soon returns with one of everything in his arms, his eyes still wide and bulging at Jimmy. “Will that be all, sir?”
Jimmy shifts back a little out of wariness, eyebrows raised as he cautiously picks out a bottle of water out from the pile in the man's arms. “I'll just... take this, thanks.” Yeah, he had seen a whole lot of weird in his life (as one was wont to do in being the vessel of an angel), but this? This was a whole new level of weird, and that was seriously saying something.
The man quickly backs away once Jimmy takes the bottle, eyes still locked on him in a way that really does not feel comfortable. Jimmy slowly backs a little more, closer towards the door and out of this entire... thing. “Uh, I'll be going now.” Going far, far away from here and hope this is nothing more than a one-time incident. This is seriously starting to freak him out pretty badly, and not a lot of things can really freak Jimmy out these days.
The silence stretches on as Jimmy edges his way to the door, and the man almost believes that it was over when counter guy suddenly just drops everything he had in his arms onto the ground and goes to his knees, staring at Jimmy in that fixated, creepy way of his. Despite knowing better Jimmy instantly rushes back to the guy, grabbing him by his shoulders. “H-Hey! You alright?”
“I have been graced with your presence,” he hears the man mumbling back in response, his gaze fixed upon Jimmy's own stunned ones as the mumbles rise up in volume, loud enough for Jimmy to make out. “Praise be to God. Praise be to God.”
“G-God?” Jimmy chokes out before he can help himself, too surprised to say anything else in that moment. God? Since when had he ever become God? Last he checked, he was still a guy who used to sell ad space on radio and happened to be the vessel of an angel-not that it was the most glamorous job, but that’s something for another time. “I-I got no idea where you got that idea, man, but I'm no God.” It probably wasn't a good idea to mention that God, in his complete and most sincere honesty, is kind of a dick to let the Apocalypse happen-or almost-happen, since the world is obviously still around. It’s pretty much the same thing anyway.
Rather than listening to his words though, counter guy only continued to keep his eyes locked to Jimmy, the mumbles never ceasing. If anything, they only rose in volume. “Glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on Earth. We are saved.”
Shit. Jimmy straightens himself back up again, rubbing his cheek with the heel of his palm as he stares helplessly at the guy gazing at him with some sort of freaky reverence as if he was-well, that wasn't the point at hand. What had happened while he wasn't around? Pulling himself away from the counter guy (who, thankfully or not-thankfully, stayed on the spot kneeling), Jimmy quickly turned his gaze around to scan across the store, trying to find something that could point him in the direction of this mess.
A half-read newspaper on one of the shelves caught his eye, and Jimmy made his way over there and picked it up. Any thoughts of needing to scan the papers cover to cover for his answer were instantly banished; they were printed in big, bold letters, right above a picture of somebody who Jimmy could only describe as himself-
-no.
No, not himself.
Castiel.
“Fuck,” Jimmy swears, too stunned and shocked by this turn of events of say anything else. He looks back to the kneeling counter guy still on his knees behind him, and suddenly Jimmy swallows down the hard lump in his throat as he turns to look at the article again, half-grimacing at what the giant header proclaimed: MORE MIRACLES, GOD SPEAKS.
What the hell happened to you, Cas? The man thinks to himself as he glances over the giant picture of the angel (in his body, and that pretty much explains part of the mystery even though Jimmy can only see nothing but trouble ahead of him now) and squints his eyes to read the small, impossibly crammed text that make up the body of the article.
In the last three months the world has been going through change like no other-a change brought on by none other than the being who calls himself 'God'. This 'God', who also calls himself Castiel (known as the Angel of Thursday in occult lore) started to perform unexplained, phenomenal actions that can only be described as 'miracles'; in the last three months he has healed a colony of lepers, healed countless people who had been suffering from afflictions and effectively ended the long-standing warfare in Congo, amongst other things.
“He saved my daughter from cancer,” Ms. Burton (38), a housewife from Blue Earth, Minnesota, tells us. “He asked me if I believed and I said yes, and then he brought my girl back from near-death. It's a miracle.”
Alongside Ms. Burton are the similar statements from other people across both state and country, all of them voicing similar sentiments to this new 'God’. Even today such acts are still happening and are being reported every second, and everybody across America is in a total uproar at the increasing number of believers in this sudden, newfound religion that has been established two months ago. The believers say they give it no name, but others have taken to call it ‘Castielism’.
“It is the same as how the worshippers of Orpheus found Orphism,” Father Gerald Walters, 53, explains. “As they found their beliefs in Orpheus, we have found ours in Castiel, our God-a God who speaks to us, a God who walks amongst us and loves us so. His actions have shown us that.” And like before, Father Walter’s words have been repeated by various other interviewees across the country, all of them pledging their loyalty to the new ‘God’ Castiel.
Following his debut upon national television earlier this Monday, the words of Castiel, the new ‘God’, has been spreading like wildfire, and ‘Castielism’ is already quickly becoming the biggest religion to bloom and explode ever since-
“He’s here! I tell you, he’s here! Castiel!”
Jimmy snaps his head back up when the voice breaks through his own growing cloud of disbelief when he realizes that counter guy has (finally) moved from his spot, and he doesn’t need to be a genius or a mind reader to guess just exactly who the guy is talking to. The paparazzi, no doubt, or perhaps contacting some of these… worshippers of Castiel.
God, even that sounds so wrong in his head.
Grabbing the newspaper, Jimmy instantly does the most sensible thing that comes to mind at the moment-he bolts right out of the place, barrelling through the door and back out into the open and dashes away before counter guy could try and do anything to get him back. He hears the guy crying out to him as he flees, but seeing any Castiel fanatics is suddenly the last thing that Jimmy wants to do; reading about him through an article had been unnerving enough as it is. Jimmy isn’t sure if he can even come out of meeting Castiel alive, at the rate of how things seemed to be.
Jimmy isn’t sure how long or how far he runs, but he knows that either way it’s a time and length he hasn’t run for since his gym classes in high school. By the time he does come to a stop he’s out of breath and shaking in his legs, feeling the strength draining out from his muscles. He stumbles to the ground, nearly falling flat if he hadn’t used his hands to stop himself from doing so; the impact runs up his arms and makes him wince, but Jimmy manages to hold on enough to make sure that he isn’t going to keel over entirely before allowing himself to properly fall to the ground, panting hard as he catches his breath.
That had been-
Jimmy pauses before he can continue with that thought, coughing as his breathing stabilizes, closing his eyes to concentrate on cooling himself back down. The man allows himself a few minutes before he tries to start on that train of thought, opening his eyes and slowly pushing himself to sit down and not really caring for the fact that his clothes are effectively ruined already. His clothes really weren’t as important as to what was happening in the world right now as compared to what Castiel was doing. Seriously, what the hell happened? When did angels just suddenly declare themselves as God? And just what was God doing in all of this?
Questions exploded in his head like fireworks, but Jimmy couldn’t get answers for any of them and ended up scratching his head in irritation. Sitting around and thinking was not going to get him answers, he knew, but where could he go? Home? With Castiel going around with his face, surely somebody must have thought that Castiel was actually-oh God, his family. In the midst of everything they hadn’t come up, but now that they did Jimmy’s worries only increased tenfold. How were they even managing all of this? Was Castiel even still protecting them, or in all of this madness had they-?
“Goddamnit, Castiel,” Jimmy mutters under his breath, swearing once more as he picks himself up and starts to walk forward with shaky legs. As much as common sense dictates him to do otherwise, Jimmy can’t just turn away from his family like this; they could be in danger now for all he knew, and he had to do something even though it might just cost him his life. In all manner of speaking, he is already dead as far as anybody is concerned, so there really isn’t much of a difference between him being alive and dying again. But Amelia-Amelia and Claire, they were a different story altogether.
Jimmy has next to no idea where the hell he is, but he’ll get himself there somehow; somehow, he’ll get himself back to Pontiac and make sure that Amelia and Claire are alright, and then from there he can go and contact the Winchesters and find out just what the hell happened to Castiel.
In retrospect, the plan had sounded simple enough in his head then. But of course, nothing had ever seemed to be simple from the moment Castiel entered his life.
They were standing at the edge of the world.
Below them, upon the ground, swarmed the humans-tens and hundreds and thousands and millions and billions of them. They scattered around like the insects they were, bugs that could be so easily squashed with a snap of their fingers or even a mere thought of their heads. They were Gods, after all. Anything was possible, so long as they wished for it.
But-no. Only some of them deserved to be squashed. The rest of them had to be taken care of, cared and nurtured like the children they were. Many of them had already come to see their way, their love and understanding and had returned that love back to them (and it was pleasing, very much so, to see that they did understand). They could see the love that the people had for them, and that was all that they needed. As long as they understood, all would be well.
Except.
He could not accept it, did not accept the care that they wished to lavish upon him. That hurt them more than anything else, for he was the Righteous Man, and their most beloved. They loved him more than anything else, had become Gods for his sake so that he could finally see the love they had for him, a love unmatched by anybody else in the world. Everything they had done, they had all done it for him and him alone-so why could he not see the absolute love of their actions?
Their lips curl both in disgust and at irritation at the thought of their defiant beloved, at the constant hard-headedness of the Righteous Man. True, his stubbornness was something that they both admired, but now it was starting to border on frustrating, and they did not like that. But patience was key-eventually, they knew, he would see the truth of their actions, and then he would properly kneel before him with the love and respect that they deserved. Forcing it would not work, and they did not wish to break their beloved so-no, it had to be willing, and it would be the fact that he choose that would win them this victory. He would do it.
They would make it happen.
“-ey! Hey!”
A gasp came out from his mouth as Jimmy snapped his eyes open, blinking in quick succession as the world focused back into shape before him. It took a few moments before he could properly make out the dark figure-a person-that had suddenly blocked out his vision of the road.
“Uh,” he starts to the person who had called him, not quite certain how or where to begin, especially considering the fact that he had been sleeping under a tree.
The passer-by gives Jimmy an uncertain look, eyes barely visible in the twilight of the day's early hours. “You know, there's a motel a couple of miles down the road. There's no need to sleep out in the open.”
Jimmy-to his credit, because god does he want to lie down on a bed-shakes his head. “I don't have anything on me,” he croaks out, because the bottle of water he had from the store ran out pretty quickly and Jimmy can only be thankful for the fact that the heat isn't so bad, because otherwise he really would have no idea how to even survive this.
There's a low whistle in response. “Shit. You got mugged?”
Best to let the guy believe that, Jimmy supposes, and tries not to wince as he nods an affirmative. So maybe the mugged story did have a fair bit of validity to it.
“Should've said that earlier. Now it makes sense.” The guy mutters with a sigh tacked to the end, and takes a moment before he shifts, and suddenly Jimmy finds himself being supported by a pair of strong hands that haul him back up to his feet. Jimmy stumbles at first, taken aback by the sudden wave of vertigo hitting him, but steadies himself soon enough with a hand against the tree he had been sleeping under. Even then his knees still feel weak, and his feet hurt like hell-Jimmy had been walking since... who knew when, really. What he would give for a watch right now.
Now that he's standing up Jimmy can properly look at the passer-by who had helped him. He's dark-skinned and tall-and also pretty built if the way he pulled Jimmy up is of any indication. Under the moonlight Jimmy manages to make out black eyes and a red headband tied around his forehead, long bangs falling down in front of his face. Amongst the (long) black hair are streaks of white, and they stand out within the darkness.
The guy flicks his eyes up and down Jimmy for a cursory glance, whistling again as he raises his eyebrows. “Well, I'd say you certainly got the short end of the stick.” He raises his gaze to Jimmy properly then, crossing his arms. “So? Where d'you live?”
“Pontiac, Illinois,” Jimmy replies without missing a beat.
“Huh.” The passer-by frowns, glancing back towards the road for a moment before turning back. “You're in luck, then. I'm just heading there myself too.”
Jimmy blinks then too, because this really is an unexpected break-what are the chances of somebody just going in the direction of where he needs to go? A part of him instantly coils up in suspicion-hard not to be, really, what with the new state of the world-but Jimmy shoves it aside for the moment; suspicious or not, this guy is still his ticket back home, and at this point Jimmy doesn't have any other option unless he wants to experience the events of yesterday all over again.
Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Jimmy starts to speak. “Well, uh, if you don't mind-”
The man cuts him off then, a wry smile playing on his lips as he speaks. “Might as well start off with a good deed, right? I'll bring you there.”
Jimmy lets out a breath he wasn't even aware he had been holding in, feeling too grateful to be wholly embarrassed about it. “Thank you,” he manages out in return.
The wry smile on the man's lips only grows slightly wider. “No problem,” he says before proceeding to jab a thumb in the direction of the van that’s been parked at the along the side of the street. “Now get in before I begin to regret this.”
The man's name is Kortez Evans, or so he says in their introductions.
“Yeah,” he starts, before Jimmy has a chance to say anything else once he tells his name. “It's not really the kind of name people expect somebody like me to have.”
Jimmy raises an eyebrow then, his own curiosity piqued by the other's comments. “What kind of name do people expect you to have?”
Kortez shrugs. “Something manly, I guess, since I apparently look like the part.” He lets out a laugh then and flexes his left arm, displaying a rippling show of finely toned biceps that could only have come from years of strict training. “Maybe I should just change my name to Brad or something, it sounds manlier.”
Jimmy finds himself smiling in amusement despite the situation, slightly cheered by the other man's humor. “Maybe.”
A brief pause follows that response, broken quickly by a snort from Kortez as he turns the van around the bend in the road, dark eyes flickering towards Jimmy once the man can afford it. “What, you don't believe me?”
“No,” Jimmy instantly returns, although he has to stop for a second after that to regain back his composure. “No, I just-are you really planning to change your name?” Hunters-or well, Sam and Dean at least-always change their names, Jimmy remembers from the time he spent with Castiel. It isn't too far-fetched to assume that other like-minded hunters did as well, so maybe if this guy did too...
He stops in his train of thought at another snort from Kortez, and Jimmy turns his head around to look at the dark-skinned man now smiling in amusement, voice full of mirth as he responds. “Maybe. It'd make things easier, anyway.”
“Make what easier?” Jimmy asks before he can stop himself.
Kortez shrugs once more. “Settling in. I just got out from prison when I found you.”
The abrupt admission causes Jimmy to blink in surprise, too taken aback to really say anything else. Of course, there was the part of him that had instantly recoiled up over the fact that he was currently taking help from an ex-convict, but considering the things he had been through in his year of being an angel's vessel, suddenly being in the company of a former prisoner didn't seem as bad as it should be.
His lack of response is noted by Kortez, who glances over at Jimmy once more with one raised eyebrow. “Well, that's a pretty anticlimactic response if I've ever seen one, especially considering you just got mugged,” he remarks dryly, a wry smile on his face.
Jimmy takes a moment more before he relaxes back down, rubbing his face with the heel of his hand. “I've survived worse,” he answers, a half-truth at best. But seriously, what else could he say to that? 'Well, at least you didn't live with an angel inside of you for about a whole year'?
Yeah, that'd totally go well. (Best of all, that wasn't even half of what Jimmy could say.)
Kortez raises both of his eyebrows this time at the words that Jimmy gave. “No offense, man, but you don't seem like the type to be able to even live through a fistfight, let alone anything else.”
All Jimmy does in response is to give a wry smile of his own, the words slipping out mirthlessly. “Trust me, I know.” He knew it all too well.
Kortez lets out another snort but doesn't say anything else otherwise, only keeps his eyes on the road and moves to drive the van around another bend on the road; the scenery flashes past by them, cloaked by the darkness of the early morning hours along with its accompanying silence. Jimmy partakes in it listlessly, blinking as he watches the sights past by without pause. Now that the silence has settled down properly he finally feels the exhaustion of the day's events settling into him, eyelids already starting to droop down as the quiet rock of the van quickly brings him into a semblance of near-unconsciousness.
Considering his current situation Jimmy knows that it’s a bad idea to drop his guard down so easily-especially to a stranger that had just picked him up on the street (who also happened to be an ex-convict to boot). But too much has happened for Jimmy and he's just so tired, and Jimmy's pretty sure that the day later isn't going to be any more easier. If anything, he's certain things are only going to get crazier-after all, his lookalike is now 'God', and who knows what else is going to happen in the hours to come. He's going to need all the strength he can get. So Jimmy allows the hum of the engine to lull him deeper, eyelids slipping fully shut as the man drifts off into the closest resemblance of sleep he's going to get like this.
At least this is much better than sleeping under a tree.
Jimmy spends the next few days with Kortez as he drives them both towards Pontiac, although Jimmy hasn't quite asked the dark-skinned man what his intentions were in going there. Jimmy isn't sure if he wants to ask, since that would give Kortez a window to ask the same question back to him-and Jimmy doesn't really have anything to answer with besides the truth, which really wouldn't go well at all. The constant string of strangely realistic dreams that follow him around doesn’t help much in matters either; weird dreams are one thing, but having to go through one almost every other night is something that Jimmy is pretty sure he shouldn’t be getting, especially when he can’t even make heads of tails out of them.
Sometimes Jimmy wonders when his life had gotten so complicated.
To his own comfort though, Kortez makes no move to ask such a question, a fact that eases Jimmy greatly and is also somewhat thankful for. He supposes it’s most likely from the fact that the man has a couple of things about himself he doesn't want to talk about either-as it was wont to happen to any former convict. In a sense, they both have their own respective can of worms, and neither of them are that willing to talk about it. That makes things somewhat easier, at least.
Still, despite that Kortez does turn out to be excellent company-while he doesn't get kingly meals for them he still goes out to ensure that both of them don't starve to death even if Jimmy has nothing to pay back Kortez with. More than once he had voiced that opinion to the other (sort of weakly, though, because even Jimmy wasn't that all inclined to lose his one source of food), but Kortez merely shook it off said it was nothing.
“Besides,” he adds on, “Better to have somebody vouching for me when I make my mark there, right? You gotta back me up when I need it, Jimmy.”
Jimmy offers back a smile in response as he tears open the packaging for the pastry that Kortez had gotten for him. “Of course.” He figures he owes that guy that much, at least, considering how he pretty much saved his life when he needed it most.
Smiling back himself, Kortez turns his head up to look past the dusty front window of the van, squinting his eyes as he attempts to read the sign at the distance. “The exit's about another three hours. Once we get past that, it shouldn't be that long before we reach Pontiac.”
Not too far away from home, then. Last time, Jimmy would have been full of joy and eagerness at the prospect of returning after having been dragged across the world by some miracle; but now, he felt nothing but a rising sense of dread filling up the hollow pit of his stomach. How were Amelia and Claire faring now, with Castiel pulling his shtick around the world? Were the people in the neighbourhood badgering them about him, or had they fled and hid from this madness? As much as Jimmy didn't like to admit it, the latter option would be much safer-even if it meant that he wouldn't be able to see them. Still, he had to know, at least, even if the trip might possibly put him in harm's way. He had to know that his family would be alright.
He breaks out from his thoughts when Kortez nudges him with an elbow, jerking his head in the direction of the open, uneaten packet of bread still held in Jimmy's hands. “Are you actually going to eat that or not?” he asks while raising one eyebrow.
“Oh,” Jimmy starts, looking back down at his bread and raising it up, staring for a moment before he takes a bite. “Sorry,” he says, once it's been swallowed down.
Kortez regards Jimmy with a cursory look then, dark eyes gazing at his face with intent. Jimmy looks back, uncertain, gulping down the hard lump in his throat. The moment passes between them for a beat, and then two, then Kortez pulls his gaze away from Jimmy and looks back at the front, speaking. “It's okay. You seem to have a lot on your mind.”
Jimmy finds himself letting out a mirthless huff to that statement, shoulders shrugging slightly. “Even you can see that too, huh?” Was his worry really that obvious? It has been a while since he could actually communicate with another human, after all. Castiel-the Castiel who had been with (inside) him-must have somehow rubbed something onto him. Jimmy can't remember when had been the last time he had to think so much in talking to somebody; doubly so, because Kortez had been with him for the last few days already.
The corners of Kortez's lips twitch upwards ever so slightly. “Knowing how to read body language can save you a good number of beatings from the others while in the slammer,” he says mildly, but it's clear enough to understand what the dark-skinned man means by that, and Jimmy can't help but wince a bit in sympathy. Stories of what goes on in prison are not new things to him, but it's never a fun time when he imagines them. Still, jail really isn't as bad as the Apocalypse, but that thought gives little comfort to him.
Seemingly having taken note of Jimmy's discomfort, Kortez quickly returns to eating his own bread, speaking up again only after another minute or so as he talks between munches. “Well, we're just about nearly there, so just tell me the neighbourhood you're in and I'll drop you there. From there we'll just go on our separate ways.”
'Separate ways' is pretty much one hell of an understatement for what Jimmy is going to face, considering the situation, but he says nothing about that and only smiles slightly, taking another bite out from his bread. “Thanks a lot, really. I owe you for this.”
Kortez finishes up the last of his bread before smiling back, a spark of amusement glinting in his eyes. “No problem.”
→ part b →
One: You were saved not in order to live.
It is the silence that rouses him back to consciousness.
Jimmy feels himself letting out a small groan as awareness slowly drifts back to him, as the first thing he's aware of is his head pounding insistently between his temples. His body is sore in all places, overtaxed muscles throbbing in time to his heartbeat. In fact, had it not been for the fact that Jimmy knew better, he might have thought he had just fainted from overtaxing himself or something like that. But no, Jimmy does know better-he remembers the last moments of his existence, of waking up in the Heaven that wasn't his and talking to the angel who resided in his body. He remembers wishing Castiel well, and remembers Castiel telling him to rest.
And rest is what he had done, until now.
Slowly getting up to his feet, Jimmy sways, feet stumbling around loose bits of mud and soil as the man attempts to straighten himself. His squints his eyes, so unused to the sunlight they are once again seeing after only God knew how long. Slowly, though, his eyes adjust back to the sunlight shining down on him, and Jimmy manages to stop swaying just in time to stare at a pile of trees before him, uprooted and burnt, totally destroyed by what Jimmy could only best describe as a cosmic force. Jimmy remembers where he had seen that before, in the recesses of Castiel's mind when angel and human had shared bodies. His body. This is exactly how things had been when Castiel resurrected Dean Winchester.
Somebody resurrected me, then, Jimmy thinks grimly to himself as he glances around, now half-expecting some angel to pop up and take him; the moments pass though, and nothing seems to happen. Jimmy sighs and runs fingers through his hair, squinting up at the sun once more and briefly wondering how long it's been since he's passed on. It could have been weeks, months, years, decades, centuries. Whatever the answer would be, Jimmy supposes he would find out eventually. He looks around again, just to make sure that there wouldn't be any angels randomly appearing to gank him or something. Not that he would really know why.
The minutes pass and still nobody arrives to take him, so Jimmy figures it’s safe for him to move. With slightly shaky steps he makes his way around the mess of fallen trees, grimacing at the sight; sure, looking at it from Castiel's memory had been nice, but now that he was up close there really wasn't anything nice about it-just mostly explosions and scorch marks everywhere, like a bomb having just gone off.
A celestial bomb, the man corrects himself mirthlessly as he makes his way out from the entire area, stumbling out into a proper clearing. The path he's on doesn't seem to be used so often, but it is used enough to be visible. Jimmy follows it down, going with the trail until he eventually sees a road in the distance along with a lone gas station that stands in a way that's nearly welcoming. Jimmy only takes a moment to decide, and he heads over to the gas station first. Thankfully, there is somebody manning the gas station when Jimmy gets there, and he enters the place with a fair amount of trepidation.
The bell at the door rings when Jimmy opens it, and the cashier instantly pops his head up from the newspaper to greet him. “Welcome, sir-” He suddenly pauses at the moment he sees Jimmy's face, going pale, and if that isn't a sign to him that something is Wrong then Jimmy doesn't know what is.
“Uh,” he starts unhelpfully, mentally cursing at the same time because really, couldn't a just-resurrected guy get a single break in whatever crazy thing was happening now? “I just got, um, mugged-” An internal wince as he said that, because, yeah, mugged? Real smooth there, Jimmy. Granted, he certainly was nowhere near the Winchester-level of proficiency of lying, but even so, coming up with something else other than being mugged would have been better. Jimmy pauses for a fraction of a second, shoulders sagging, and then he tries again. “-anyway. I’m lost and I’m out of cash so I was just, you know, wondering if-”
Rather than looking at him in disbelief the man at the counter instantly gets up from his seat, eyes staring at Jimmy almost fearfully as he makes a quick, fumbled reply. “Of-Of course! Anything you ask, sir!” Before Jimmy can even get another word in edgewise, the counter guy's already busy rummaging through the shelves, taking out one of everything. Needless to say, Jimmy found himself incredibly perplexed by this whole thing and makes a mental note to find out just what the hell happened here while he had been... elsewhere. (Dead was kind of awkward to say now.)
The counter guy soon returns with one of everything in his arms, his eyes still wide and bulging at Jimmy. “Will that be all, sir?”
Jimmy shifts back a little out of wariness, eyebrows raised as he cautiously picks out a bottle of water out from the pile in the man's arms. “I'll just... take this, thanks.” Yeah, he had seen a whole lot of weird in his life (as one was wont to do in being the vessel of an angel), but this? This was a whole new level of weird, and that was seriously saying something.
The man quickly backs away once Jimmy takes the bottle, eyes still locked on him in a way that really does not feel comfortable. Jimmy slowly backs a little more, closer towards the door and out of this entire... thing. “Uh, I'll be going now.” Going far, far away from here and hope this is nothing more than a one-time incident. This is seriously starting to freak him out pretty badly, and not a lot of things can really freak Jimmy out these days.
The silence stretches on as Jimmy edges his way to the door, and the man almost believes that it was over when counter guy suddenly just drops everything he had in his arms onto the ground and goes to his knees, staring at Jimmy in that fixated, creepy way of his. Despite knowing better Jimmy instantly rushes back to the guy, grabbing him by his shoulders. “H-Hey! You alright?”
“I have been graced with your presence,” he hears the man mumbling back in response, his gaze fixed upon Jimmy's own stunned ones as the mumbles rise up in volume, loud enough for Jimmy to make out. “Praise be to God. Praise be to God.”
“G-God?” Jimmy chokes out before he can help himself, too surprised to say anything else in that moment. God? Since when had he ever become God? Last he checked, he was still a guy who used to sell ad space on radio and happened to be the vessel of an angel-not that it was the most glamorous job, but that’s something for another time. “I-I got no idea where you got that idea, man, but I'm no God.” It probably wasn't a good idea to mention that God, in his complete and most sincere honesty, is kind of a dick to let the Apocalypse happen-or almost-happen, since the world is obviously still around. It’s pretty much the same thing anyway.
Rather than listening to his words though, counter guy only continued to keep his eyes locked to Jimmy, the mumbles never ceasing. If anything, they only rose in volume. “Glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on Earth. We are saved.”
Shit. Jimmy straightens himself back up again, rubbing his cheek with the heel of his palm as he stares helplessly at the guy gazing at him with some sort of freaky reverence as if he was-well, that wasn't the point at hand. What had happened while he wasn't around? Pulling himself away from the counter guy (who, thankfully or not-thankfully, stayed on the spot kneeling), Jimmy quickly turned his gaze around to scan across the store, trying to find something that could point him in the direction of this mess.
A half-read newspaper on one of the shelves caught his eye, and Jimmy made his way over there and picked it up. Any thoughts of needing to scan the papers cover to cover for his answer were instantly banished; they were printed in big, bold letters, right above a picture of somebody who Jimmy could only describe as himself-
-no.
No, not himself.
Castiel.
“Fuck,” Jimmy swears, too stunned and shocked by this turn of events of say anything else. He looks back to the kneeling counter guy still on his knees behind him, and suddenly Jimmy swallows down the hard lump in his throat as he turns to look at the article again, half-grimacing at what the giant header proclaimed: MORE MIRACLES, GOD SPEAKS.
What the hell happened to you, Cas? The man thinks to himself as he glances over the giant picture of the angel (in his body, and that pretty much explains part of the mystery even though Jimmy can only see nothing but trouble ahead of him now) and squints his eyes to read the small, impossibly crammed text that make up the body of the article.
In the last three months the world has been going through change like no other-a change brought on by none other than the being who calls himself 'God'. This 'God', who also calls himself Castiel (known as the Angel of Thursday in occult lore) started to perform unexplained, phenomenal actions that can only be described as 'miracles'; in the last three months he has healed a colony of lepers, healed countless people who had been suffering from afflictions and effectively ended the long-standing warfare in Congo, amongst other things.
“He saved my daughter from cancer,” Ms. Burton (38), a housewife from Blue Earth, Minnesota, tells us. “He asked me if I believed and I said yes, and then he brought my girl back from near-death. It's a miracle.”
Alongside Ms. Burton are the similar statements from other people across both state and country, all of them voicing similar sentiments to this new 'God’. Even today such acts are still happening and are being reported every second, and everybody across America is in a total uproar at the increasing number of believers in this sudden, newfound religion that has been established two months ago. The believers say they give it no name, but others have taken to call it ‘Castielism’.
“It is the same as how the worshippers of Orpheus found Orphism,” Father Gerald Walters, 53, explains. “As they found their beliefs in Orpheus, we have found ours in Castiel, our God-a God who speaks to us, a God who walks amongst us and loves us so. His actions have shown us that.” And like before, Father Walter’s words have been repeated by various other interviewees across the country, all of them pledging their loyalty to the new ‘God’ Castiel.
Following his debut upon national television earlier this Monday, the words of Castiel, the new ‘God’, has been spreading like wildfire, and ‘Castielism’ is already quickly becoming the biggest religion to bloom and explode ever since-
“He’s here! I tell you, he’s here! Castiel!”
Jimmy snaps his head back up when the voice breaks through his own growing cloud of disbelief when he realizes that counter guy has (finally) moved from his spot, and he doesn’t need to be a genius or a mind reader to guess just exactly who the guy is talking to. The paparazzi, no doubt, or perhaps contacting some of these… worshippers of Castiel.
God, even that sounds so wrong in his head.
Grabbing the newspaper, Jimmy instantly does the most sensible thing that comes to mind at the moment-he bolts right out of the place, barrelling through the door and back out into the open and dashes away before counter guy could try and do anything to get him back. He hears the guy crying out to him as he flees, but seeing any Castiel fanatics is suddenly the last thing that Jimmy wants to do; reading about him through an article had been unnerving enough as it is. Jimmy isn’t sure if he can even come out of meeting Castiel alive, at the rate of how things seemed to be.
Jimmy isn’t sure how long or how far he runs, but he knows that either way it’s a time and length he hasn’t run for since his gym classes in high school. By the time he does come to a stop he’s out of breath and shaking in his legs, feeling the strength draining out from his muscles. He stumbles to the ground, nearly falling flat if he hadn’t used his hands to stop himself from doing so; the impact runs up his arms and makes him wince, but Jimmy manages to hold on enough to make sure that he isn’t going to keel over entirely before allowing himself to properly fall to the ground, panting hard as he catches his breath.
That had been-
Jimmy pauses before he can continue with that thought, coughing as his breathing stabilizes, closing his eyes to concentrate on cooling himself back down. The man allows himself a few minutes before he tries to start on that train of thought, opening his eyes and slowly pushing himself to sit down and not really caring for the fact that his clothes are effectively ruined already. His clothes really weren’t as important as to what was happening in the world right now as compared to what Castiel was doing. Seriously, what the hell happened? When did angels just suddenly declare themselves as God? And just what was God doing in all of this?
Questions exploded in his head like fireworks, but Jimmy couldn’t get answers for any of them and ended up scratching his head in irritation. Sitting around and thinking was not going to get him answers, he knew, but where could he go? Home? With Castiel going around with his face, surely somebody must have thought that Castiel was actually-oh God, his family. In the midst of everything they hadn’t come up, but now that they did Jimmy’s worries only increased tenfold. How were they even managing all of this? Was Castiel even still protecting them, or in all of this madness had they-?
“Goddamnit, Castiel,” Jimmy mutters under his breath, swearing once more as he picks himself up and starts to walk forward with shaky legs. As much as common sense dictates him to do otherwise, Jimmy can’t just turn away from his family like this; they could be in danger now for all he knew, and he had to do something even though it might just cost him his life. In all manner of speaking, he is already dead as far as anybody is concerned, so there really isn’t much of a difference between him being alive and dying again. But Amelia-Amelia and Claire, they were a different story altogether.
Jimmy has next to no idea where the hell he is, but he’ll get himself there somehow; somehow, he’ll get himself back to Pontiac and make sure that Amelia and Claire are alright, and then from there he can go and contact the Winchesters and find out just what the hell happened to Castiel.
In retrospect, the plan had sounded simple enough in his head then. But of course, nothing had ever seemed to be simple from the moment Castiel entered his life.
They were standing at the edge of the world.
Below them, upon the ground, swarmed the humans-tens and hundreds and thousands and millions and billions of them. They scattered around like the insects they were, bugs that could be so easily squashed with a snap of their fingers or even a mere thought of their heads. They were Gods, after all. Anything was possible, so long as they wished for it.
But-no. Only some of them deserved to be squashed. The rest of them had to be taken care of, cared and nurtured like the children they were. Many of them had already come to see their way, their love and understanding and had returned that love back to them (and it was pleasing, very much so, to see that they did understand). They could see the love that the people had for them, and that was all that they needed. As long as they understood, all would be well.
Except.
He could not accept it, did not accept the care that they wished to lavish upon him. That hurt them more than anything else, for he was the Righteous Man, and their most beloved. They loved him more than anything else, had become Gods for his sake so that he could finally see the love they had for him, a love unmatched by anybody else in the world. Everything they had done, they had all done it for him and him alone-so why could he not see the absolute love of their actions?
Their lips curl both in disgust and at irritation at the thought of their defiant beloved, at the constant hard-headedness of the Righteous Man. True, his stubbornness was something that they both admired, but now it was starting to border on frustrating, and they did not like that. But patience was key-eventually, they knew, he would see the truth of their actions, and then he would properly kneel before him with the love and respect that they deserved. Forcing it would not work, and they did not wish to break their beloved so-no, it had to be willing, and it would be the fact that he choose that would win them this victory. He would do it.
They would make it happen.
“-ey! Hey!”
A gasp came out from his mouth as Jimmy snapped his eyes open, blinking in quick succession as the world focused back into shape before him. It took a few moments before he could properly make out the dark figure-a person-that had suddenly blocked out his vision of the road.
“Uh,” he starts to the person who had called him, not quite certain how or where to begin, especially considering the fact that he had been sleeping under a tree.
The passer-by gives Jimmy an uncertain look, eyes barely visible in the twilight of the day's early hours. “You know, there's a motel a couple of miles down the road. There's no need to sleep out in the open.”
Jimmy-to his credit, because god does he want to lie down on a bed-shakes his head. “I don't have anything on me,” he croaks out, because the bottle of water he had from the store ran out pretty quickly and Jimmy can only be thankful for the fact that the heat isn't so bad, because otherwise he really would have no idea how to even survive this.
There's a low whistle in response. “Shit. You got mugged?”
Best to let the guy believe that, Jimmy supposes, and tries not to wince as he nods an affirmative. So maybe the mugged story did have a fair bit of validity to it.
“Should've said that earlier. Now it makes sense.” The guy mutters with a sigh tacked to the end, and takes a moment before he shifts, and suddenly Jimmy finds himself being supported by a pair of strong hands that haul him back up to his feet. Jimmy stumbles at first, taken aback by the sudden wave of vertigo hitting him, but steadies himself soon enough with a hand against the tree he had been sleeping under. Even then his knees still feel weak, and his feet hurt like hell-Jimmy had been walking since... who knew when, really. What he would give for a watch right now.
Now that he's standing up Jimmy can properly look at the passer-by who had helped him. He's dark-skinned and tall-and also pretty built if the way he pulled Jimmy up is of any indication. Under the moonlight Jimmy manages to make out black eyes and a red headband tied around his forehead, long bangs falling down in front of his face. Amongst the (long) black hair are streaks of white, and they stand out within the darkness.
The guy flicks his eyes up and down Jimmy for a cursory glance, whistling again as he raises his eyebrows. “Well, I'd say you certainly got the short end of the stick.” He raises his gaze to Jimmy properly then, crossing his arms. “So? Where d'you live?”
“Pontiac, Illinois,” Jimmy replies without missing a beat.
“Huh.” The passer-by frowns, glancing back towards the road for a moment before turning back. “You're in luck, then. I'm just heading there myself too.”
Jimmy blinks then too, because this really is an unexpected break-what are the chances of somebody just going in the direction of where he needs to go? A part of him instantly coils up in suspicion-hard not to be, really, what with the new state of the world-but Jimmy shoves it aside for the moment; suspicious or not, this guy is still his ticket back home, and at this point Jimmy doesn't have any other option unless he wants to experience the events of yesterday all over again.
Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Jimmy starts to speak. “Well, uh, if you don't mind-”
The man cuts him off then, a wry smile playing on his lips as he speaks. “Might as well start off with a good deed, right? I'll bring you there.”
Jimmy lets out a breath he wasn't even aware he had been holding in, feeling too grateful to be wholly embarrassed about it. “Thank you,” he manages out in return.
The wry smile on the man's lips only grows slightly wider. “No problem,” he says before proceeding to jab a thumb in the direction of the van that’s been parked at the along the side of the street. “Now get in before I begin to regret this.”
The man's name is Kortez Evans, or so he says in their introductions.
“Yeah,” he starts, before Jimmy has a chance to say anything else once he tells his name. “It's not really the kind of name people expect somebody like me to have.”
Jimmy raises an eyebrow then, his own curiosity piqued by the other's comments. “What kind of name do people expect you to have?”
Kortez shrugs. “Something manly, I guess, since I apparently look like the part.” He lets out a laugh then and flexes his left arm, displaying a rippling show of finely toned biceps that could only have come from years of strict training. “Maybe I should just change my name to Brad or something, it sounds manlier.”
Jimmy finds himself smiling in amusement despite the situation, slightly cheered by the other man's humor. “Maybe.”
A brief pause follows that response, broken quickly by a snort from Kortez as he turns the van around the bend in the road, dark eyes flickering towards Jimmy once the man can afford it. “What, you don't believe me?”
“No,” Jimmy instantly returns, although he has to stop for a second after that to regain back his composure. “No, I just-are you really planning to change your name?” Hunters-or well, Sam and Dean at least-always change their names, Jimmy remembers from the time he spent with Castiel. It isn't too far-fetched to assume that other like-minded hunters did as well, so maybe if this guy did too...
He stops in his train of thought at another snort from Kortez, and Jimmy turns his head around to look at the dark-skinned man now smiling in amusement, voice full of mirth as he responds. “Maybe. It'd make things easier, anyway.”
“Make what easier?” Jimmy asks before he can stop himself.
Kortez shrugs once more. “Settling in. I just got out from prison when I found you.”
The abrupt admission causes Jimmy to blink in surprise, too taken aback to really say anything else. Of course, there was the part of him that had instantly recoiled up over the fact that he was currently taking help from an ex-convict, but considering the things he had been through in his year of being an angel's vessel, suddenly being in the company of a former prisoner didn't seem as bad as it should be.
His lack of response is noted by Kortez, who glances over at Jimmy once more with one raised eyebrow. “Well, that's a pretty anticlimactic response if I've ever seen one, especially considering you just got mugged,” he remarks dryly, a wry smile on his face.
Jimmy takes a moment more before he relaxes back down, rubbing his face with the heel of his hand. “I've survived worse,” he answers, a half-truth at best. But seriously, what else could he say to that? 'Well, at least you didn't live with an angel inside of you for about a whole year'?
Yeah, that'd totally go well. (Best of all, that wasn't even half of what Jimmy could say.)
Kortez raises both of his eyebrows this time at the words that Jimmy gave. “No offense, man, but you don't seem like the type to be able to even live through a fistfight, let alone anything else.”
All Jimmy does in response is to give a wry smile of his own, the words slipping out mirthlessly. “Trust me, I know.” He knew it all too well.
Kortez lets out another snort but doesn't say anything else otherwise, only keeps his eyes on the road and moves to drive the van around another bend on the road; the scenery flashes past by them, cloaked by the darkness of the early morning hours along with its accompanying silence. Jimmy partakes in it listlessly, blinking as he watches the sights past by without pause. Now that the silence has settled down properly he finally feels the exhaustion of the day's events settling into him, eyelids already starting to droop down as the quiet rock of the van quickly brings him into a semblance of near-unconsciousness.
Considering his current situation Jimmy knows that it’s a bad idea to drop his guard down so easily-especially to a stranger that had just picked him up on the street (who also happened to be an ex-convict to boot). But too much has happened for Jimmy and he's just so tired, and Jimmy's pretty sure that the day later isn't going to be any more easier. If anything, he's certain things are only going to get crazier-after all, his lookalike is now 'God', and who knows what else is going to happen in the hours to come. He's going to need all the strength he can get. So Jimmy allows the hum of the engine to lull him deeper, eyelids slipping fully shut as the man drifts off into the closest resemblance of sleep he's going to get like this.
At least this is much better than sleeping under a tree.
Jimmy spends the next few days with Kortez as he drives them both towards Pontiac, although Jimmy hasn't quite asked the dark-skinned man what his intentions were in going there. Jimmy isn't sure if he wants to ask, since that would give Kortez a window to ask the same question back to him-and Jimmy doesn't really have anything to answer with besides the truth, which really wouldn't go well at all. The constant string of strangely realistic dreams that follow him around doesn’t help much in matters either; weird dreams are one thing, but having to go through one almost every other night is something that Jimmy is pretty sure he shouldn’t be getting, especially when he can’t even make heads of tails out of them.
Sometimes Jimmy wonders when his life had gotten so complicated.
To his own comfort though, Kortez makes no move to ask such a question, a fact that eases Jimmy greatly and is also somewhat thankful for. He supposes it’s most likely from the fact that the man has a couple of things about himself he doesn't want to talk about either-as it was wont to happen to any former convict. In a sense, they both have their own respective can of worms, and neither of them are that willing to talk about it. That makes things somewhat easier, at least.
Still, despite that Kortez does turn out to be excellent company-while he doesn't get kingly meals for them he still goes out to ensure that both of them don't starve to death even if Jimmy has nothing to pay back Kortez with. More than once he had voiced that opinion to the other (sort of weakly, though, because even Jimmy wasn't that all inclined to lose his one source of food), but Kortez merely shook it off said it was nothing.
“Besides,” he adds on, “Better to have somebody vouching for me when I make my mark there, right? You gotta back me up when I need it, Jimmy.”
Jimmy offers back a smile in response as he tears open the packaging for the pastry that Kortez had gotten for him. “Of course.” He figures he owes that guy that much, at least, considering how he pretty much saved his life when he needed it most.
Smiling back himself, Kortez turns his head up to look past the dusty front window of the van, squinting his eyes as he attempts to read the sign at the distance. “The exit's about another three hours. Once we get past that, it shouldn't be that long before we reach Pontiac.”
Not too far away from home, then. Last time, Jimmy would have been full of joy and eagerness at the prospect of returning after having been dragged across the world by some miracle; but now, he felt nothing but a rising sense of dread filling up the hollow pit of his stomach. How were Amelia and Claire faring now, with Castiel pulling his shtick around the world? Were the people in the neighbourhood badgering them about him, or had they fled and hid from this madness? As much as Jimmy didn't like to admit it, the latter option would be much safer-even if it meant that he wouldn't be able to see them. Still, he had to know, at least, even if the trip might possibly put him in harm's way. He had to know that his family would be alright.
He breaks out from his thoughts when Kortez nudges him with an elbow, jerking his head in the direction of the open, uneaten packet of bread still held in Jimmy's hands. “Are you actually going to eat that or not?” he asks while raising one eyebrow.
“Oh,” Jimmy starts, looking back down at his bread and raising it up, staring for a moment before he takes a bite. “Sorry,” he says, once it's been swallowed down.
Kortez regards Jimmy with a cursory look then, dark eyes gazing at his face with intent. Jimmy looks back, uncertain, gulping down the hard lump in his throat. The moment passes between them for a beat, and then two, then Kortez pulls his gaze away from Jimmy and looks back at the front, speaking. “It's okay. You seem to have a lot on your mind.”
Jimmy finds himself letting out a mirthless huff to that statement, shoulders shrugging slightly. “Even you can see that too, huh?” Was his worry really that obvious? It has been a while since he could actually communicate with another human, after all. Castiel-the Castiel who had been with (inside) him-must have somehow rubbed something onto him. Jimmy can't remember when had been the last time he had to think so much in talking to somebody; doubly so, because Kortez had been with him for the last few days already.
The corners of Kortez's lips twitch upwards ever so slightly. “Knowing how to read body language can save you a good number of beatings from the others while in the slammer,” he says mildly, but it's clear enough to understand what the dark-skinned man means by that, and Jimmy can't help but wince a bit in sympathy. Stories of what goes on in prison are not new things to him, but it's never a fun time when he imagines them. Still, jail really isn't as bad as the Apocalypse, but that thought gives little comfort to him.
Seemingly having taken note of Jimmy's discomfort, Kortez quickly returns to eating his own bread, speaking up again only after another minute or so as he talks between munches. “Well, we're just about nearly there, so just tell me the neighbourhood you're in and I'll drop you there. From there we'll just go on our separate ways.”
'Separate ways' is pretty much one hell of an understatement for what Jimmy is going to face, considering the situation, but he says nothing about that and only smiles slightly, taking another bite out from his bread. “Thanks a lot, really. I owe you for this.”
Kortez finishes up the last of his bread before smiling back, a spark of amusement glinting in his eyes. “No problem.”
→ part b →