Casfest: Some Gods May Cross Your Path
Title: Some Gods May Cross Your Path
Characters/Pairings: Castiel, various gods, Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,502
Warnings/Spoilers: Minor for 5x02 ('Good God, Y'all"), fast'n'loose approach to mythology
Notes/Prompt: Written for Casfest, for zempasuchil's prompt: Cas encountering other gods/angels/creatures of other religions/cultures on his search for his father. The other prompts were amzing, but this one was the one with the ideas, so. Thanks to x_shorty1013_x and arialyre for the beta and support!
Title is taken from a quote by Jeanne Moreau.
Summary: Castiel searches for his Father, but cannot seem to find the deity he is looking for.
Castiel visits the Mediterranean. There is much of humanity’s history and roots in this area and he plans to search through all of it.
“You are far from home, little messenger,” a voice drawls and Castiel flares his Grace in curiosity. Not many beings could approach him at the moment, given that he is insubstantial and several miles above the surface of the Earth.
“Who are you?” he asks. He’s not afraid, just curious. The other being isn’t one of his brothers; there’s no feeling of familiar Grace and echo of home, but he’s not sure what to make of the roiling aura of heat and light.
A low chuckle sends a shiver of heat through Castiel’s Grace. “I am Ra, little messenger. What name do you go by?”
One of the pagan gods, then, Castiel realizes: the sun-god of the Egyptian pantheon in particular. He’s never met one of this ilk, to his knowledge; there had never been a need or opportunity. He hesitantly stretches a tendril of Grace out in a metaphysical mimicry of a human gesture.
“My brothers call me Castiel,” he tells the god.
There is a tight, searing heat across his Grace as the god meets his “handshake.” Ra laughs again, bright and relaxed this time. “Such chivalry!” he says, mirth coloring his voice gold and yellow. “Bring you a message, to be so far from your brothers?”
Castiel’s Grace shimmers. “No. I am on a search for my Father.”
“Hmm. A quest, then. An adventure. Seeking the All-Knowing and All-Powerful…” he trails off. “I wish you luck, then, Messenger Castiel. We will not fight, but neither do we wish to see this world destroyed. It is home.”
Castiel nods, gratified. He can think of many other pagan gods and goddesses who would not be so gracious towards his self-imposed task.
“Thank you,” he says, letting his Grace flare again with warmth and light in an imitation of Ra’s aura.
The sun-god does the same. “We wish you luck, little messenger,” he says before fading into the ether.
Day 29
“Young, you are young, young, young,” the creature shrieks and if it wasn’t also a god, Castiel would have smote it simply for being annoying.
“I don’t have time for this,” he growls. He’s irritated, forced into his corporeal body and made to listen to this senile feather-brain. He’s also very happy that he doesn’t resemble the common human perception of angels and thus has no feathers; he’d dislike it very much if he had anything in common with this thing.
The long tongue flickers at him and the creature slithers up the side of a tree, pauses to tilt its head at the angel. “Too young,” it declares. “Young like a hatchling, just out of egg. No use! Can’t do anything! Weak and pitiful!”
Castiel sighs. “I am eons old,” he tells the creature-god. “I am hardly considered young by any perspective.” He doesn’t mention that there are only three of his brothers that were created after him, which could possibly make him young in one sense.
“Hah! Lie in a not-lie! Young! Going to fail. Hasn’t grown its feathers. Can barely crawl. Useless!”
The angel frowns. “I am not useless,” he says sternly and he flexes his Grace. The bonds holding him tremble and break and the snake-creature shrieks again.
“Young! No good!”
Then, before he can retaliate, the creature is gone and he’s left alone in the rainforest.
He sighs. Sometimes, it’s irritating to deal with the local divinities.
Day 31
The desert is still hot when he appears, though night had fallen some time ago. A saguaro cactus juts out of the ground nearby and there are scrubs cast into sharp relief by the moon.
Distantly, he can hear the howls of a coyote pack. The pendant, however, is cold, just as it has been for the past month.
“Looking for something?” a voice asks and Castiel turns.
The form is human, male, but the angel can see the way it has been woven together, not naturally made. This being is not human, as much as it may look like one. Given his location, Castiel is willing to presume it to be one of the local Native American gods.
“I’m looking for my Father,” Castiel says. The man-shaped creature nods.
“A worthy quest,” he says. “Perhaps you may yet succeed.”
Castiel tilts his head, but the creature just smiles and the coyotes howl.
Day 36
Danu only comes up to Castiel’s shoulder, but she is remarkably strong for such a pleasant-looking goddess. Which is how the angel finds himself seated at a table with thick, fresh bread and a bowl of stew in front of him.
“Eat up,” she said, bustling over to the hearth. “You could use some good food in you before you go gallivanting over the universe looking for that Father of yours.”
Castiel blinks, first at her then down at the food. “I do not require-”
“Of course you do. Now eat up,” she tells him, brandishing a wooden spoon. Castiel eyes the implement. He’s never been afraid of wood or spoons or any combination of the two, but he’s starting to see why some people might be.
So he picks up the miniature version of Danu’s spoon and scoops up a mouthful of the stew. She smiles at him and stirs the contents of a pot hanging over the fire.
Both the stew and the bread are surprisingly good and he makes a note to try whatever Dean offers next time.
Day 42
“And you’ve been down south?” Hermes asks.
Castiel nods. “I spoke with Ra,” he tells the messenger god. Hermes hums.
“Did you visit over in South America?”
The angel thinks of feathers and insults and nods. “Yes, I did.”
“Hmm.” Hermes flutters the wings on the sides of his head and perks up. “Oh. Message. Be right back. Hold that thought and don’t move.”
The messenger god is gone for barely a minute before he’s back in front of the angel, panting lightly and grinning. “Oh man, always good to stretch the wings. Bet you know how that feels, being forced to stay inactive for a while then finally getting permission to fly.”
Castiel nods. “I do,” he admits. Hermes nods.
“Right, then. Your dad, was it? Been to England lately?”
Day 51
Castiel spends three mortal days in a staring contest with Thor before the large god roars with laughter and slams his hammer.
“I like you, little messenger!” he booms, eyes bright above his beard. “What is it you’ve come to Asgard for?”
“I’m searching for my Father,” Castiel tells the god. Thor rubs at the thick hair covering most of his face.
“Your Father? I don’t suppose his name is Loki?”
Castiel shakes his head. “No. His name is Yhwh,” he says.
Thor nods. “Ah, the All-Powerful one, then. Nope. He’s not here, that I know of. You might want to ask Loki, though. Little bugger knows everything about anything.”
The angel nods. “I shall. Thank you for your assistance and advice.”
“Anytime, little messenger. Now, shoo. You have a search to get back to.”
Castiel flies away, wondering where he might find this Loki.
Day 57
He’s been unable to locate Loki, but he has tracked the Trickster down to India, to the doorstep of a goddess well known for imparting wisdom in a violent fashion.
Castiel knocks politely.
“What?” the goddess snaps, hair half done up and half free flowing. “Don’t you know it’s early?” She shifts and the skulls wrapped around her waist clank against each other. Castiel spares them a glance and then focuses on the goddess’ face.
“Kali,” he says.
She frowns. “That’s me. And who are you?”
“My name is Castiel. I’m an angel of-”
“Right. Come on in. Don’t mind the blood.”
Castiel steps into the goddess’ abode and looks around curiously. There are many stacks of large tomes, dusty and cracked with age. Between the stacks, skulls grin up at him, some of them dripping with blood.
“Looking for something, are you?” the goddess calls back to him from further in.
“Yes,” Castiel says, looking away from the dark gaze of a particularly large skull. “My Father. And a god named Loki.”
“Loki’s not here right now. He’s been over in North America for a while. Something to do with aliens,” Kali tells him, emerging from the depths of her home. Her hair now done up entirely, she smiles. “Neither is your Father, I’m afraid. Haven’t seen Him in centuries.”
Castiel nods. “Thank you. I’ll take my leave, then.”
She lifts a hand in farewell. “Tell Loki to get his ass back over here soon if you find him, Castiel.”
“I will,” he promises before flying away.
Day 60
“So, how’s the search for God coming, Cas?” Dean asks, leaning against the Impala.
“Unsuccessful, but…interesting,” the angel says after a moment.
Dean raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask. Castiel just smiles slightly.
Characters/Pairings: Castiel, various gods, Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,502
Warnings/Spoilers: Minor for 5x02 ('Good God, Y'all"), fast'n'loose approach to mythology
Notes/Prompt: Written for Casfest, for zempasuchil's prompt: Cas encountering other gods/angels/creatures of other religions/cultures on his search for his father. The other prompts were amzing, but this one was the one with the ideas, so. Thanks to x_shorty1013_x and arialyre for the beta and support!
Title is taken from a quote by Jeanne Moreau.
Summary: Castiel searches for his Father, but cannot seem to find the deity he is looking for.
Castiel visits the Mediterranean. There is much of humanity’s history and roots in this area and he plans to search through all of it.
“You are far from home, little messenger,” a voice drawls and Castiel flares his Grace in curiosity. Not many beings could approach him at the moment, given that he is insubstantial and several miles above the surface of the Earth.
“Who are you?” he asks. He’s not afraid, just curious. The other being isn’t one of his brothers; there’s no feeling of familiar Grace and echo of home, but he’s not sure what to make of the roiling aura of heat and light.
A low chuckle sends a shiver of heat through Castiel’s Grace. “I am Ra, little messenger. What name do you go by?”
One of the pagan gods, then, Castiel realizes: the sun-god of the Egyptian pantheon in particular. He’s never met one of this ilk, to his knowledge; there had never been a need or opportunity. He hesitantly stretches a tendril of Grace out in a metaphysical mimicry of a human gesture.
“My brothers call me Castiel,” he tells the god.
There is a tight, searing heat across his Grace as the god meets his “handshake.” Ra laughs again, bright and relaxed this time. “Such chivalry!” he says, mirth coloring his voice gold and yellow. “Bring you a message, to be so far from your brothers?”
Castiel’s Grace shimmers. “No. I am on a search for my Father.”
“Hmm. A quest, then. An adventure. Seeking the All-Knowing and All-Powerful…” he trails off. “I wish you luck, then, Messenger Castiel. We will not fight, but neither do we wish to see this world destroyed. It is home.”
Castiel nods, gratified. He can think of many other pagan gods and goddesses who would not be so gracious towards his self-imposed task.
“Thank you,” he says, letting his Grace flare again with warmth and light in an imitation of Ra’s aura.
The sun-god does the same. “We wish you luck, little messenger,” he says before fading into the ether.
Day 29
“Young, you are young, young, young,” the creature shrieks and if it wasn’t also a god, Castiel would have smote it simply for being annoying.
“I don’t have time for this,” he growls. He’s irritated, forced into his corporeal body and made to listen to this senile feather-brain. He’s also very happy that he doesn’t resemble the common human perception of angels and thus has no feathers; he’d dislike it very much if he had anything in common with this thing.
The long tongue flickers at him and the creature slithers up the side of a tree, pauses to tilt its head at the angel. “Too young,” it declares. “Young like a hatchling, just out of egg. No use! Can’t do anything! Weak and pitiful!”
Castiel sighs. “I am eons old,” he tells the creature-god. “I am hardly considered young by any perspective.” He doesn’t mention that there are only three of his brothers that were created after him, which could possibly make him young in one sense.
“Hah! Lie in a not-lie! Young! Going to fail. Hasn’t grown its feathers. Can barely crawl. Useless!”
The angel frowns. “I am not useless,” he says sternly and he flexes his Grace. The bonds holding him tremble and break and the snake-creature shrieks again.
“Young! No good!”
Then, before he can retaliate, the creature is gone and he’s left alone in the rainforest.
He sighs. Sometimes, it’s irritating to deal with the local divinities.
Day 31
The desert is still hot when he appears, though night had fallen some time ago. A saguaro cactus juts out of the ground nearby and there are scrubs cast into sharp relief by the moon.
Distantly, he can hear the howls of a coyote pack. The pendant, however, is cold, just as it has been for the past month.
“Looking for something?” a voice asks and Castiel turns.
The form is human, male, but the angel can see the way it has been woven together, not naturally made. This being is not human, as much as it may look like one. Given his location, Castiel is willing to presume it to be one of the local Native American gods.
“I’m looking for my Father,” Castiel says. The man-shaped creature nods.
“A worthy quest,” he says. “Perhaps you may yet succeed.”
Castiel tilts his head, but the creature just smiles and the coyotes howl.
Day 36
Danu only comes up to Castiel’s shoulder, but she is remarkably strong for such a pleasant-looking goddess. Which is how the angel finds himself seated at a table with thick, fresh bread and a bowl of stew in front of him.
“Eat up,” she said, bustling over to the hearth. “You could use some good food in you before you go gallivanting over the universe looking for that Father of yours.”
Castiel blinks, first at her then down at the food. “I do not require-”
“Of course you do. Now eat up,” she tells him, brandishing a wooden spoon. Castiel eyes the implement. He’s never been afraid of wood or spoons or any combination of the two, but he’s starting to see why some people might be.
So he picks up the miniature version of Danu’s spoon and scoops up a mouthful of the stew. She smiles at him and stirs the contents of a pot hanging over the fire.
Both the stew and the bread are surprisingly good and he makes a note to try whatever Dean offers next time.
Day 42
“And you’ve been down south?” Hermes asks.
Castiel nods. “I spoke with Ra,” he tells the messenger god. Hermes hums.
“Did you visit over in South America?”
The angel thinks of feathers and insults and nods. “Yes, I did.”
“Hmm.” Hermes flutters the wings on the sides of his head and perks up. “Oh. Message. Be right back. Hold that thought and don’t move.”
The messenger god is gone for barely a minute before he’s back in front of the angel, panting lightly and grinning. “Oh man, always good to stretch the wings. Bet you know how that feels, being forced to stay inactive for a while then finally getting permission to fly.”
Castiel nods. “I do,” he admits. Hermes nods.
“Right, then. Your dad, was it? Been to England lately?”
Day 51
Castiel spends three mortal days in a staring contest with Thor before the large god roars with laughter and slams his hammer.
“I like you, little messenger!” he booms, eyes bright above his beard. “What is it you’ve come to Asgard for?”
“I’m searching for my Father,” Castiel tells the god. Thor rubs at the thick hair covering most of his face.
“Your Father? I don’t suppose his name is Loki?”
Castiel shakes his head. “No. His name is Yhwh,” he says.
Thor nods. “Ah, the All-Powerful one, then. Nope. He’s not here, that I know of. You might want to ask Loki, though. Little bugger knows everything about anything.”
The angel nods. “I shall. Thank you for your assistance and advice.”
“Anytime, little messenger. Now, shoo. You have a search to get back to.”
Castiel flies away, wondering where he might find this Loki.
Day 57
He’s been unable to locate Loki, but he has tracked the Trickster down to India, to the doorstep of a goddess well known for imparting wisdom in a violent fashion.
Castiel knocks politely.
“What?” the goddess snaps, hair half done up and half free flowing. “Don’t you know it’s early?” She shifts and the skulls wrapped around her waist clank against each other. Castiel spares them a glance and then focuses on the goddess’ face.
“Kali,” he says.
She frowns. “That’s me. And who are you?”
“My name is Castiel. I’m an angel of-”
“Right. Come on in. Don’t mind the blood.”
Castiel steps into the goddess’ abode and looks around curiously. There are many stacks of large tomes, dusty and cracked with age. Between the stacks, skulls grin up at him, some of them dripping with blood.
“Looking for something, are you?” the goddess calls back to him from further in.
“Yes,” Castiel says, looking away from the dark gaze of a particularly large skull. “My Father. And a god named Loki.”
“Loki’s not here right now. He’s been over in North America for a while. Something to do with aliens,” Kali tells him, emerging from the depths of her home. Her hair now done up entirely, she smiles. “Neither is your Father, I’m afraid. Haven’t seen Him in centuries.”
Castiel nods. “Thank you. I’ll take my leave, then.”
She lifts a hand in farewell. “Tell Loki to get his ass back over here soon if you find him, Castiel.”
“I will,” he promises before flying away.
Day 60
“So, how’s the search for God coming, Cas?” Dean asks, leaning against the Impala.
“Unsuccessful, but…interesting,” the angel says after a moment.
Dean raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask. Castiel just smiles slightly.