Unexpected Destinies Chapter 162
Title: Unexpected Destinies
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: up to and including Exile on Main St., AU from the end of season 5
Warnings: AU, slash
Word Count: 3,567
Summary: It wasn't often that Death was intrigued by any one soul, but it happened occasionally.
PRESENT
It wasn't often that Death was aware of the death throes of any one individual being anymore, so the fact that he was would have caught his attention even if he hadn't instantly recognized the soul in question.
Dean Winchester.
The revelation caught Death completely off-guard as he hadn't expected to feel that particular soul die any time soon, not with three archangels having taken such a liking to it and thus watching over it. Well, not unless Lucifer had made a significant move and he would have been aware of such an occurrence as the fights of archangels caused enough power ripples for him to have noticed them. So it hadn't been a fight then.
Death tried to seriously consider whether he should go see what had transpired before he abandoned the futile exercise. There was really no point in attempting to delude himself that he hadn't already made up his mind. Yes, Dean Winchester should be entirely beneath his notice- should be hardly even an insignificant bacterium really- but he knew that the human wasn't. Even during their first meeting there had been something about the boy that had caught his attention and interest, though at the time he hadn't quite known what it was.
Each subsequent meeting, all done without Dean's awareness of his presence, had intrigued Death even more until the last one, which was when his interest had turned into true curiosity. It hadn't been until then when he'd realized just how special the boy truly was. What was meant, precisely, by the title Righteous Man. He'd ignored that before, after all significant religious figures were a dime a dozen and none of them had truly been worth his notice, but Dean Winchester was different. The boy was more. God had done something different for once and he couldn't help but want to see how it all turned out. Especially if he was right about what his old friend had done.
He'd have to congratulate the old boy if that was the case.
So, yes, Death knew that he'd interfere if necessary (though he doubted the archangels would hesitate to resurrect the boy once more) even before the death throes shifted. Not only would doing so allow him to witness the first plan of God's that even remotely intrigued him in millennia, but it would also be a way for him to frustrate Lucifer, which was a particular bonus but merely a side effect of his choice, not the true reason for it.
Then the death throes had shifted and it took Death a moment to realize what was going on. It had been so long since he'd felt a soul wiped out of existence entirely instead of just merely dying a mortal death that he didn't see it for what it was right away. When he did, he followed the sensation back to its source immediately, appearing on the scene cloaked to the eyes of all humans and angels present. This type of death, by what the angels naively called First Darkness, was not something that they could prevent or undo. Indeed, once a soul was fully extinguished, it was gone and not even himself or God could bring it back.
Not as it had been, not as that particular being.
They could potentially create a flawed twin, but it would never be the same soul again. It was part of the beauty and frailty of the souls that God had created, their uniqueness and ability to change, sometimes for good and others for ill, though more often the latter. This particular soul though, Death mused, had managed the former and he really was curious to witness how else it might evolve.
By the time that Death had arrived, Dean Winchester's body was already dead and hardly a sliver of the boy's soul remained. It was rapidly vanishing even as it separated from its body. He was a little surprised that none of the archangels made a grab for it, but perhaps it was already so slim that they could no longer detect its presence.
Though hardly a sliver, it was all that Death needed of this particular soul. He was the embodiment of death and destruction, after all, and unbeatable in his own domain, which is why he would reap God himself one day regardless of which of them was the elder. And though the Darkness might be the first of its kind that the angels had experienced, it was hardly the first- or even the strongest- that he'd ever encountered. Indeed, back before God had decided to start creating all manner of things, there had been a Darkness far more pure and all-encompassing than that present here, annihilating Dean Winchester's soul.
With a gentleness that surprised even himself, Death reached out and called the soul sliver to himself. The moment that he had it in his hands, he was able to halt the extermination of it. That, however, was by far the easiest of it. Though the Darkness instantly obeyed him and fled, it was the actual recreation of Dean Winchester's soul that would be the hard part. He was not a creator, he was a transformer, in his case of souls from their physical life to their spiritual one. Though the process was simply labeled 'death' and often seen as an end by those 'alive' it was really so much more, though he knew that most souls were simply incapable of understanding that until they'd made the journey from one state to another.
It was why even angels didn't truly understand him, though Death was constantly amused by their lack of realization of this. Even Castiel whom God had resurrected not once, but twice, didn't even realize his lack of understanding as the little angel's Grace had not undergone a transformation of any kind. It had simply gone from being energized to depleted and back. No, the true transformation had come later, only being thought of after he'd accidentally killed one of God's angels and his old friend had then realized that he wanted there to be something more; for his creations to not simply be snuffed out so easily and permanently.
Due to his different skillset, Death knew that what he was about to attempt would not have been possible with any other soul. There just wasn't enough of it left for him to work with. Dean Winchester, however, had already proven that he was hardly normal. He wondered if this had been part of God's plan or not. It was difficult to tell sometimes as he knew from experience how major events could catch his friend completely by surprise and yet particular details of it would be precisely how God had planned it. He was tempted to think that events had long since gone off target from what his friend had intended, but he'd found that was often when God surprised him the most, so he decided to simply wait and see.
Death called upon all of his own power and concentrated it on the soul sliver, pleased at the way in which it responded. He'd been counting on even such a miniscule part of the boy's soul to retain some of Dean Winchester's most inherent characteristics. Namely the human's stubbornness and fighting spirit. Not only had this soul survived four decades in Hell, but it had also carried on after attaining a glimpse of Heaven. Dean was the first human soul to remain sane after having experienced both extremes. And it hadn't just survived them, but it had thrived as well in the end.
Altogether it made the true essence of Dean Winchester a survivor in the truest sense of the word and that was precisely what Death required just now. The reason that neither he nor God could bring back a soul that had been completely obliterated was because there was no guide or map as to how it had been, all the nuances and peculiarities of it that made the soul who and what it was. The soul, however, knew itself just like any cell of the human body knew itself as a whole. That same body could be regrown from any one of them, minus a few details, no matter how unique or different the body. The soul was even better at this self-awareness than the body was, knowing all of the changes it had undergone since being created.
The tricky part was getting the soul to share that knowledge with him. Death also had to be constantly on his guard that he didn't transform the soul to its spiritual form either. Though he knew that the archangels would be perfectly capable of returning Dean Winchester to his physical form (once the transformation had been achieved, reversal of it was always possible if one knew how and possessed the power of an angel), so many stressors on the boy's soul so quickly increased the odds of permanent damage significantly.
No, he would have to ensure that he didn't transform the soul. The problem was that Death knew it would be far easier with Dean Winchester than with any soul he'd previously saved thus as, unlike them, the boy had already experienced spiritual life and would therefore be far easier to transform than a normal, physical soul.
There was a flare of recognition at his touch and Death smiled. Dean Winchester had died often enough to be able to identify the touch of one of his reapers and, thereby, his own. Luckily the sliver of soul was small enough to not be sufficiently sentient as to fight him. Instead it turned into him, welcoming his power, probably preferring the comfort of death over the utter annihilation that it had experienced before. He could only hope the sentiment would last, though he thought it unlikely as Dean Winchester was such a fighter. The fact that the human had stood up to him despite being utterly terrified would have been enough for him to know that he would have trouble shortly, even if he hadn't learned more about the soul in question recently.
As the soul spun out its knowledge before him, Death knew that after this intimate contact with Dean Winchester's true essence, his fascination with this particular being would only grow. It was a consequence he was willing to accept, though, especially since he now had an inkling of what it was his old friend was up to. Knowing that, there was absolutely no possible way that he would miss out on seeing if God succeeded in his quest or not.
No way.
Dean Winchester apparently possessed even more traits that were not normal for a human to have Death soon discovered as he came across traces of what almost seemed like angelic Grace patterned into his very soul. It intrigued him but he had little time to devote to examining it closely as the entirety of his attention was required in order to maintain the steady stream of recreation he was performing. Whereas a normal soul would already have tested his boundaries when it came to creation, this one was taxing them to the extreme. The boy's true essence was far brighter and vaster than any he had recreated before and it was beginning to take its toll on him, especially since he constantly had to guard himself against transforming the newly regenerating soul out of habit.
When Death came up against the first of the places where the angelic bonds had been anchored, he seriously considered simply forgoing it's recreation. It would take even more power and effort on his part and would bring one of the archangels into the equation as well. As they did not possess the ability to create it would be a needless complication.
No sooner had the thought occurred to him, than the soul twisted and bucked beneath Death's hands. Whereas before it had been surprisingly open and accepting of his touch and power, it now sought to resist him. The strength of the struggles, even if nowhere near enough to escape his hold, startled him. He hadn't realized that Dean Winchester would be so strong already when only a portion of his soul had been recreated. Though he could still contain the soul, it soon became clear that any further progress would be difficult with such open resistance.
In a way Death admired it just as he'd been unable to help himself from feeling the same when Dean had come to confront him in the pizza parlor in Chicago. It took courage and a certain strength of character to stand up to him, knowing who and what he was and he saw it so infrequently that it was a refreshing change that intrigued him. Cursing God for the boy's sheer stubbornness, he relented and allowed his power to start recreating the parts of the soul necessary for the bond. Being called out on his laziness was more amusing than annoying and he found himself humoring the soul almost despite himself.
If nothing else than the presence of the archangels might keep Dean Winchester calm and at least partially complacent as he finished the process of recreating the boy's soul.
/
The lamenting of the Host for once failed to make Raphael feel better and feel like his grief was being shared. Instead it now seemed to serve only to underscore simply how poorly his siblings understood the gravity of the situation. Yes, his brothers and sisters knew that Dean was dead, his very soul gone, and that one of their own had lost a bond mate, but almost none of them realized just how great the loss actually was.
Raphael could honestly say that he had never before known a soul as brilliant and unique as Dean's and he doubted that he ever would again. His Father had broken the mold when He'd created his bond brother and now Dean was gone forever. The reality of it still hadn't fully sunken in, but he could feel that his bond brother was gone, instead of the brilliant light that Dean's soul had cast there was only emptiness now; a void that tore at him in a way that he could hardly bear. And if he felt like this, he didn't even want to consider how Michael and Castiel felt, their bonds with Dean having been savagely torn asunder as they never should have been. He tightened his wings around his brothers, desperately wishing that there was something he could do for them.
If it would have been possible to sacrifice himself in Dean's stead then Raphael would have done so gladly. It was a realization that reminded him of how bewildered he'd been upon learning that first Castiel and later Gabriel had done so for a human he'd hardly even been able to stand the presence of. The pain that he felt now almost made him wish that he could be like that once more, to not be so affected by this. Almost, but that was all. He would never actually trade in the experience and joy of having come to truly know Dean even if it felt like his Grace had been torn apart now.
"Dean!" Castiel cried out, abruptly sitting up.
"Hush, we know, Brother," Michael murmured, voice thick with pain. "We know."
"No, I- I feel him. I feel Dean!" Castiel retorted.
The words electrified Raphael though he tried to keep them from doing so. The First Darkness had extinguished Dean's soul, he'd felt it doing so himself even as he was helpless to stop it. Not even with most of Michael's power coursing through him to the point where he'd been sure that he'd explode from it all had he been able to do anything to so much as slow the Darkness down. And once a soul was wiped from existence there was nothing that could bring it back.
Nothing.
"Castiel," Raphael began gently. "You know what First Darkness does. It is no-"
"I can feel him," Castiel declared confidently, glancing about wildly. "The bond is reforming. It's him, I'm sure of it."
The sheer conviction in his brother's voice along with his own desire for it to be true had Raphael looking about as well but there was nothing to see. The humans were looking at them strangely now, clearly too afraid to ask any questions for fear of breaking the spell or whatever it was that they thought. It was something ridiculous, that much he knew.
The sharp intake of breath made Raphael look at Castiel once more only to find his brother staring wide eyed ahead, tears in his eyes and wonder radiating off him.
"Beloved," Castiel whispered before his voice firmed. "Death."
Almost as if the word were a summoning spell, Raphael noticed the air before them start to shimmer and slowly Death appeared. The horseman had his hands extended before him and an intense look of concentration on his face. The light exploded into existence a moment later, eclipsing the weak light from the sun coming in through the two small windows located high up on the far wall. It wasn't nearly bright enough to be Dean's soul, but it definitely looked familiar and as he watched it swirling and dancing in the air before Death, he finally realized what was going on.
Death was recreating Dean.
/
Michael couldn't even begin to describe the joy that he felt upon witnessing Death, much as he hadn't been able to even comprehend the anguish and utter desolation that he'd felt before. Losing Dean had been one of the worst experiences in his entire existence, especially since he'd never expected to do so. Even if his precious little one were killed during their fight against Lucifer, he knew that Dean's soul was destined for Heaven so, short of dying himself (in which case he wouldn't be aware of it), he'd never even realized that he could lose his vessel.
The discovery had been horrendous and even now Michael found it almost unbearable. Although he'd instantly recognized Death's actions for what they were- having watched his Father create frequently during his time- it wasn't enough. Their bond was gone and while he would always be delighted with Dean's survival, he knew he'd never lose the ache and agony of the missing bond. The First Darkness poison had been created first and foremost to ruin a vessel and render it unusable. The fact that it also destroyed the mind and soul of the human had been of secondary, though no less delightful, importance to Lucifer.
The thought of never being able to join with his precious human like that again wrecked Michael even though he knew that he'd take it instantly if it meant that Dean wasn't obliterated. He'd take a lot of things if it meant that his vessel could continue to exist, many he was sure that Dean would neither like nor approve of but it was just how it was. He now finally understood what it was that had driven his little one to make that fateful crossroads deal. To someone who didn't believe in the existence of Heaven, physical death had to have felt like this.
Michael shuddered at the thought of Dean experiencing this kind of pain or loss.
A quick glance at Castiel was all that Michael needed to know that his brother's bond truly was regenerating. The pure unadulterated rapture on Castiel's face told him that. He took heart from it, shoving aside the instinctive jealousy that he couldn't suppress and turned back to face Death and Dean once more. In all that had happened he hadn't even thought to call on the horseman, not knowing that Death could create as well as end life. It was no excuse, though, because he should have thought to call the horseman in order to have Death try and pull Dean's soul free from the First Darkness and into true death itself. From there they'd have been able to come up with a new plan. He was just thankful that Death had sought to repay his debt to them without any prompting.
Dean's soul had just started attaining the brilliance of a normal soul when Michael felt it, a gentle nudging against his Grace that was intimately familiar. Without even thinking about it, Michael reacted, instantly reaching out with his Grace towards Dean. What he felt when he touched his bond brother's soul was a miasma of confusion, pain and fear, but Dean responded to him without a moment's hesitation, latching onto his Grace with a certainty that resounded straight through him.
Miraculously, their bond reformed with an ease that amazed Michael and instead he turned all of his attention to soothing Dean's frantic soul. The intimacy of the situation meant that he could clearly feel Castiel and Death as well and he knew that having so many people directly touching his soul couldn't be doing anything for Dean's already overloaded, partial awareness.
While Michael knew nothing of what Death was doing, the same wasn't true for Castiel. Carefully, he reached out to his brother and brushed their Graces together. This close they didn't need words and instead they effortlessly began the process of soothing Dean together, creating one source of comfort and love to which their human could cling as Dean slowly regained true awareness.
A.N.: Phew, hope people liked the new pov, Death wasn't easy to write! And I hope this makes people feel better. I heard about some of the rants on Twitter :)
Chapter 163
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: up to and including Exile on Main St., AU from the end of season 5
Warnings: AU, slash
Word Count: 3,567
Summary: It wasn't often that Death was intrigued by any one soul, but it happened occasionally.
PRESENT
It wasn't often that Death was aware of the death throes of any one individual being anymore, so the fact that he was would have caught his attention even if he hadn't instantly recognized the soul in question.
Dean Winchester.
The revelation caught Death completely off-guard as he hadn't expected to feel that particular soul die any time soon, not with three archangels having taken such a liking to it and thus watching over it. Well, not unless Lucifer had made a significant move and he would have been aware of such an occurrence as the fights of archangels caused enough power ripples for him to have noticed them. So it hadn't been a fight then.
Death tried to seriously consider whether he should go see what had transpired before he abandoned the futile exercise. There was really no point in attempting to delude himself that he hadn't already made up his mind. Yes, Dean Winchester should be entirely beneath his notice- should be hardly even an insignificant bacterium really- but he knew that the human wasn't. Even during their first meeting there had been something about the boy that had caught his attention and interest, though at the time he hadn't quite known what it was.
Each subsequent meeting, all done without Dean's awareness of his presence, had intrigued Death even more until the last one, which was when his interest had turned into true curiosity. It hadn't been until then when he'd realized just how special the boy truly was. What was meant, precisely, by the title Righteous Man. He'd ignored that before, after all significant religious figures were a dime a dozen and none of them had truly been worth his notice, but Dean Winchester was different. The boy was more. God had done something different for once and he couldn't help but want to see how it all turned out. Especially if he was right about what his old friend had done.
He'd have to congratulate the old boy if that was the case.
So, yes, Death knew that he'd interfere if necessary (though he doubted the archangels would hesitate to resurrect the boy once more) even before the death throes shifted. Not only would doing so allow him to witness the first plan of God's that even remotely intrigued him in millennia, but it would also be a way for him to frustrate Lucifer, which was a particular bonus but merely a side effect of his choice, not the true reason for it.
Then the death throes had shifted and it took Death a moment to realize what was going on. It had been so long since he'd felt a soul wiped out of existence entirely instead of just merely dying a mortal death that he didn't see it for what it was right away. When he did, he followed the sensation back to its source immediately, appearing on the scene cloaked to the eyes of all humans and angels present. This type of death, by what the angels naively called First Darkness, was not something that they could prevent or undo. Indeed, once a soul was fully extinguished, it was gone and not even himself or God could bring it back.
Not as it had been, not as that particular being.
They could potentially create a flawed twin, but it would never be the same soul again. It was part of the beauty and frailty of the souls that God had created, their uniqueness and ability to change, sometimes for good and others for ill, though more often the latter. This particular soul though, Death mused, had managed the former and he really was curious to witness how else it might evolve.
By the time that Death had arrived, Dean Winchester's body was already dead and hardly a sliver of the boy's soul remained. It was rapidly vanishing even as it separated from its body. He was a little surprised that none of the archangels made a grab for it, but perhaps it was already so slim that they could no longer detect its presence.
Though hardly a sliver, it was all that Death needed of this particular soul. He was the embodiment of death and destruction, after all, and unbeatable in his own domain, which is why he would reap God himself one day regardless of which of them was the elder. And though the Darkness might be the first of its kind that the angels had experienced, it was hardly the first- or even the strongest- that he'd ever encountered. Indeed, back before God had decided to start creating all manner of things, there had been a Darkness far more pure and all-encompassing than that present here, annihilating Dean Winchester's soul.
With a gentleness that surprised even himself, Death reached out and called the soul sliver to himself. The moment that he had it in his hands, he was able to halt the extermination of it. That, however, was by far the easiest of it. Though the Darkness instantly obeyed him and fled, it was the actual recreation of Dean Winchester's soul that would be the hard part. He was not a creator, he was a transformer, in his case of souls from their physical life to their spiritual one. Though the process was simply labeled 'death' and often seen as an end by those 'alive' it was really so much more, though he knew that most souls were simply incapable of understanding that until they'd made the journey from one state to another.
It was why even angels didn't truly understand him, though Death was constantly amused by their lack of realization of this. Even Castiel whom God had resurrected not once, but twice, didn't even realize his lack of understanding as the little angel's Grace had not undergone a transformation of any kind. It had simply gone from being energized to depleted and back. No, the true transformation had come later, only being thought of after he'd accidentally killed one of God's angels and his old friend had then realized that he wanted there to be something more; for his creations to not simply be snuffed out so easily and permanently.
Due to his different skillset, Death knew that what he was about to attempt would not have been possible with any other soul. There just wasn't enough of it left for him to work with. Dean Winchester, however, had already proven that he was hardly normal. He wondered if this had been part of God's plan or not. It was difficult to tell sometimes as he knew from experience how major events could catch his friend completely by surprise and yet particular details of it would be precisely how God had planned it. He was tempted to think that events had long since gone off target from what his friend had intended, but he'd found that was often when God surprised him the most, so he decided to simply wait and see.
Death called upon all of his own power and concentrated it on the soul sliver, pleased at the way in which it responded. He'd been counting on even such a miniscule part of the boy's soul to retain some of Dean Winchester's most inherent characteristics. Namely the human's stubbornness and fighting spirit. Not only had this soul survived four decades in Hell, but it had also carried on after attaining a glimpse of Heaven. Dean was the first human soul to remain sane after having experienced both extremes. And it hadn't just survived them, but it had thrived as well in the end.
Altogether it made the true essence of Dean Winchester a survivor in the truest sense of the word and that was precisely what Death required just now. The reason that neither he nor God could bring back a soul that had been completely obliterated was because there was no guide or map as to how it had been, all the nuances and peculiarities of it that made the soul who and what it was. The soul, however, knew itself just like any cell of the human body knew itself as a whole. That same body could be regrown from any one of them, minus a few details, no matter how unique or different the body. The soul was even better at this self-awareness than the body was, knowing all of the changes it had undergone since being created.
The tricky part was getting the soul to share that knowledge with him. Death also had to be constantly on his guard that he didn't transform the soul to its spiritual form either. Though he knew that the archangels would be perfectly capable of returning Dean Winchester to his physical form (once the transformation had been achieved, reversal of it was always possible if one knew how and possessed the power of an angel), so many stressors on the boy's soul so quickly increased the odds of permanent damage significantly.
No, he would have to ensure that he didn't transform the soul. The problem was that Death knew it would be far easier with Dean Winchester than with any soul he'd previously saved thus as, unlike them, the boy had already experienced spiritual life and would therefore be far easier to transform than a normal, physical soul.
There was a flare of recognition at his touch and Death smiled. Dean Winchester had died often enough to be able to identify the touch of one of his reapers and, thereby, his own. Luckily the sliver of soul was small enough to not be sufficiently sentient as to fight him. Instead it turned into him, welcoming his power, probably preferring the comfort of death over the utter annihilation that it had experienced before. He could only hope the sentiment would last, though he thought it unlikely as Dean Winchester was such a fighter. The fact that the human had stood up to him despite being utterly terrified would have been enough for him to know that he would have trouble shortly, even if he hadn't learned more about the soul in question recently.
As the soul spun out its knowledge before him, Death knew that after this intimate contact with Dean Winchester's true essence, his fascination with this particular being would only grow. It was a consequence he was willing to accept, though, especially since he now had an inkling of what it was his old friend was up to. Knowing that, there was absolutely no possible way that he would miss out on seeing if God succeeded in his quest or not.
No way.
Dean Winchester apparently possessed even more traits that were not normal for a human to have Death soon discovered as he came across traces of what almost seemed like angelic Grace patterned into his very soul. It intrigued him but he had little time to devote to examining it closely as the entirety of his attention was required in order to maintain the steady stream of recreation he was performing. Whereas a normal soul would already have tested his boundaries when it came to creation, this one was taxing them to the extreme. The boy's true essence was far brighter and vaster than any he had recreated before and it was beginning to take its toll on him, especially since he constantly had to guard himself against transforming the newly regenerating soul out of habit.
When Death came up against the first of the places where the angelic bonds had been anchored, he seriously considered simply forgoing it's recreation. It would take even more power and effort on his part and would bring one of the archangels into the equation as well. As they did not possess the ability to create it would be a needless complication.
No sooner had the thought occurred to him, than the soul twisted and bucked beneath Death's hands. Whereas before it had been surprisingly open and accepting of his touch and power, it now sought to resist him. The strength of the struggles, even if nowhere near enough to escape his hold, startled him. He hadn't realized that Dean Winchester would be so strong already when only a portion of his soul had been recreated. Though he could still contain the soul, it soon became clear that any further progress would be difficult with such open resistance.
In a way Death admired it just as he'd been unable to help himself from feeling the same when Dean had come to confront him in the pizza parlor in Chicago. It took courage and a certain strength of character to stand up to him, knowing who and what he was and he saw it so infrequently that it was a refreshing change that intrigued him. Cursing God for the boy's sheer stubbornness, he relented and allowed his power to start recreating the parts of the soul necessary for the bond. Being called out on his laziness was more amusing than annoying and he found himself humoring the soul almost despite himself.
If nothing else than the presence of the archangels might keep Dean Winchester calm and at least partially complacent as he finished the process of recreating the boy's soul.
/
The lamenting of the Host for once failed to make Raphael feel better and feel like his grief was being shared. Instead it now seemed to serve only to underscore simply how poorly his siblings understood the gravity of the situation. Yes, his brothers and sisters knew that Dean was dead, his very soul gone, and that one of their own had lost a bond mate, but almost none of them realized just how great the loss actually was.
Raphael could honestly say that he had never before known a soul as brilliant and unique as Dean's and he doubted that he ever would again. His Father had broken the mold when He'd created his bond brother and now Dean was gone forever. The reality of it still hadn't fully sunken in, but he could feel that his bond brother was gone, instead of the brilliant light that Dean's soul had cast there was only emptiness now; a void that tore at him in a way that he could hardly bear. And if he felt like this, he didn't even want to consider how Michael and Castiel felt, their bonds with Dean having been savagely torn asunder as they never should have been. He tightened his wings around his brothers, desperately wishing that there was something he could do for them.
If it would have been possible to sacrifice himself in Dean's stead then Raphael would have done so gladly. It was a realization that reminded him of how bewildered he'd been upon learning that first Castiel and later Gabriel had done so for a human he'd hardly even been able to stand the presence of. The pain that he felt now almost made him wish that he could be like that once more, to not be so affected by this. Almost, but that was all. He would never actually trade in the experience and joy of having come to truly know Dean even if it felt like his Grace had been torn apart now.
"Dean!" Castiel cried out, abruptly sitting up.
"Hush, we know, Brother," Michael murmured, voice thick with pain. "We know."
"No, I- I feel him. I feel Dean!" Castiel retorted.
The words electrified Raphael though he tried to keep them from doing so. The First Darkness had extinguished Dean's soul, he'd felt it doing so himself even as he was helpless to stop it. Not even with most of Michael's power coursing through him to the point where he'd been sure that he'd explode from it all had he been able to do anything to so much as slow the Darkness down. And once a soul was wiped from existence there was nothing that could bring it back.
Nothing.
"Castiel," Raphael began gently. "You know what First Darkness does. It is no-"
"I can feel him," Castiel declared confidently, glancing about wildly. "The bond is reforming. It's him, I'm sure of it."
The sheer conviction in his brother's voice along with his own desire for it to be true had Raphael looking about as well but there was nothing to see. The humans were looking at them strangely now, clearly too afraid to ask any questions for fear of breaking the spell or whatever it was that they thought. It was something ridiculous, that much he knew.
The sharp intake of breath made Raphael look at Castiel once more only to find his brother staring wide eyed ahead, tears in his eyes and wonder radiating off him.
"Beloved," Castiel whispered before his voice firmed. "Death."
Almost as if the word were a summoning spell, Raphael noticed the air before them start to shimmer and slowly Death appeared. The horseman had his hands extended before him and an intense look of concentration on his face. The light exploded into existence a moment later, eclipsing the weak light from the sun coming in through the two small windows located high up on the far wall. It wasn't nearly bright enough to be Dean's soul, but it definitely looked familiar and as he watched it swirling and dancing in the air before Death, he finally realized what was going on.
Death was recreating Dean.
/
Michael couldn't even begin to describe the joy that he felt upon witnessing Death, much as he hadn't been able to even comprehend the anguish and utter desolation that he'd felt before. Losing Dean had been one of the worst experiences in his entire existence, especially since he'd never expected to do so. Even if his precious little one were killed during their fight against Lucifer, he knew that Dean's soul was destined for Heaven so, short of dying himself (in which case he wouldn't be aware of it), he'd never even realized that he could lose his vessel.
The discovery had been horrendous and even now Michael found it almost unbearable. Although he'd instantly recognized Death's actions for what they were- having watched his Father create frequently during his time- it wasn't enough. Their bond was gone and while he would always be delighted with Dean's survival, he knew he'd never lose the ache and agony of the missing bond. The First Darkness poison had been created first and foremost to ruin a vessel and render it unusable. The fact that it also destroyed the mind and soul of the human had been of secondary, though no less delightful, importance to Lucifer.
The thought of never being able to join with his precious human like that again wrecked Michael even though he knew that he'd take it instantly if it meant that Dean wasn't obliterated. He'd take a lot of things if it meant that his vessel could continue to exist, many he was sure that Dean would neither like nor approve of but it was just how it was. He now finally understood what it was that had driven his little one to make that fateful crossroads deal. To someone who didn't believe in the existence of Heaven, physical death had to have felt like this.
Michael shuddered at the thought of Dean experiencing this kind of pain or loss.
A quick glance at Castiel was all that Michael needed to know that his brother's bond truly was regenerating. The pure unadulterated rapture on Castiel's face told him that. He took heart from it, shoving aside the instinctive jealousy that he couldn't suppress and turned back to face Death and Dean once more. In all that had happened he hadn't even thought to call on the horseman, not knowing that Death could create as well as end life. It was no excuse, though, because he should have thought to call the horseman in order to have Death try and pull Dean's soul free from the First Darkness and into true death itself. From there they'd have been able to come up with a new plan. He was just thankful that Death had sought to repay his debt to them without any prompting.
Dean's soul had just started attaining the brilliance of a normal soul when Michael felt it, a gentle nudging against his Grace that was intimately familiar. Without even thinking about it, Michael reacted, instantly reaching out with his Grace towards Dean. What he felt when he touched his bond brother's soul was a miasma of confusion, pain and fear, but Dean responded to him without a moment's hesitation, latching onto his Grace with a certainty that resounded straight through him.
Miraculously, their bond reformed with an ease that amazed Michael and instead he turned all of his attention to soothing Dean's frantic soul. The intimacy of the situation meant that he could clearly feel Castiel and Death as well and he knew that having so many people directly touching his soul couldn't be doing anything for Dean's already overloaded, partial awareness.
While Michael knew nothing of what Death was doing, the same wasn't true for Castiel. Carefully, he reached out to his brother and brushed their Graces together. This close they didn't need words and instead they effortlessly began the process of soothing Dean together, creating one source of comfort and love to which their human could cling as Dean slowly regained true awareness.
A.N.: Phew, hope people liked the new pov, Death wasn't easy to write! And I hope this makes people feel better. I heard about some of the rants on Twitter :)
Chapter 163