DISCLAIMER! I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL BUT I DO OWN OBLIVION AND ALTARA AS THEY ARE REPRESENTED HERE!
If I did own supernatural, we'd all be happier about season 6. ^o^
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Raphael looked at Castiel uneasily, the female hosts eyes laden with fear and something else Castiel couldn't name. The former King of Crossroads looked between the two powers and said something the nuclear angel couldn't quite hear with his focus so intent on Raphael. Stark blue eyes glinted with something feral and insane before forcing the pressure inside the archangel to rise, ending in the inevitable explosion. He had finally done it…something niggled at the back of the former angels mind. It sounded important but the power clouded his mind, making it unintelligible. He looked around the room for a moment, unsure of what to do next. He was surprised that Dean hadn't come, given the weeks prior argument. In that moment, he figured out what bothered him so. Dean wasn't there. Neither was Sam (he figured the man would have at least been able to get up and function by now, given how minds and memories work)…Bobby, too, was absent. The silence unbearable in the wake of what he had hoped would involve begging, pleading, and kneeling.
The tickle at the back of Castiels mind turned into an agonizing burn in the space of a mere second. He could clearly feel something wrong. The haze lifted from his mind as the possibilities of what it could be sprung forth. As his heart dropped into his stomach, the former angel was simply gone.
Wings fluttered almost imperceptibly as Castiel arrived at the old house at Singer Auto. Everything was still and silent, crushingly so to one who had heard what it should sound like. Dean and Sam arguing over something as Bobby told the 'idjits' to shut up and get some work done to find Castiel. The tan trench coat waved in a sudden breeze bringing something that, unusually so, sent a shiver up the spine of his vessel.
Dress shoes made loud thumps up the few wooden stairs to the door, which now only hung by a single hinge that barely clung to the frame. The door had been splintered inward and the smell of something Wrong assaulted his senses as he stepped inside. To the left lay where Bobby should have been reading or researching. Instead, the desk was shredded underneath where papers usually lay in masses. The wheelchair behind it was ripped in two and on separate sides of the room, drawing attention to the blood. It covered the books on the shelf behind the desk, drawing Castiels eyes to the heap of flesh that had once been the elder hunter. Bobby's body was mutilated beyond recognition and globs of what appeared to be shadows dotted the floor in places that were marred by salt. The fight couldn't have lasted long. Unfortunately for Bobby, it hadn't ended well for him. The shiver on Castiels spine intensified until he had to lean on the desk, his hands a stark contrast against the deep gouges in the antique wood.
Blue eyes, laden with guilt for some reason, were forced away from the study as Castiel moved into the hall toward the stairs. The first things he saw were Sam's shoes. The second was Sam. The tall man was sprawled on the stairs at the halfway point. One arm slung almost casually over the side of the stairs beneath the banister. Blood covered the ceiling and walls in a fine spray that had also clung tightly to the button up shirt he was wearing. His throat was gone. The spinal column visible as a white contrast to the darkening red as hazel eyes stared unseeingly skyward. The banister and stairs were coated in a stocky black residue that set Castiels teeth on edge all over again as he passed the second corpse to reach the second floor.
For just a moment, it seemed as though the world came to a standstill as his vessels heart skipped what must have been a million beats. Darkness, shining and fluid, covered everything in a sticky shroud slightly reminiscent of a spider's enormous web. Just at the edge of the former angels vision, dozens of disembodied eyes stared out from where they were embedded in the masses as though it were watching Castiels every movement. All the lights were blown, casting the upper hallways into a dense murky blackness broken only by the reappearing moonlight as the eclipse ended. The doors to the bathroom and bedroom had simply been ripped open, causing the former to splinter into millions of tiny shards over the floor while the latter simply clung to its last. The bathroom was darkened, empty, and packed full of the otherworldly horror that clung in smaller tendrils to the bedroom doorframe.
Castiel sucked in a breath as he approached the bedroom door, his borrowed heart beating a staccato rhythm unmatchable by any force he knew of, and brushed his hand against it. The door crumbled into dust, coating his coat sleeve and hand in a mess of oak leavings that went unnoticed as the obstacle was removed from blocking his view of the true horror.
Dean's body was the worst to Castiel because he was the reason for the former angels actions. At least, that's what Castiel had told himself. That it was all for Dean and Sam and Bobby…now, in this house; no, this tomb, laid their remains. All of them shredded and defiled and mutilated in ways Castiel would have rather not seen. Dean's green eyes were half lidded in his pale bloodless face. The wound ran the length of his body from his pelvis to his neck, exposing all that was inside to the world. At least it would have if it had all still been inside. Castiel choked back a broken sound at the sight of his friend's heart and innards laid out on display upon his lap. The tendrils, shadowy as ever in the full moon light, held his head to the wall like a vine. Others wrapped around and into Dean through his legs and other bits of exposed flesh. His shirt was gone, shredded perhaps, and his jeans were missing below one leg where a particularly large vein of shadow pierced his skin and ran underneath.
"You did this, you know."
The quiet voice echoed eerily through the room and pierced Castiels brain. The trench coat fluttered and his wings bristled as he turned to see what appeared to be very good looking man. His state of dress was immaculate, old fashioned brocade adorning vest and long coat, both of which were fastened neatly above a stark white shirt made of what must have been silk. He seemed to absorb the light in the room, darkening it further in its absence.
"Who are you? And what has brought you here?"
Castiels gravelly voice didn't echo as the strangers had. Instead, it seemed muted somehow, and weak. The figure laughed and shook his head.
"You brought me here, you let me out. Don't you know who I am?" Castiel remained silent as he waited for the man's British sounding voice to continue. "I am Oblivion. God's equal and opposite. His brother, if you will. And I've been trapped in Purgatory for far too long. That bitch Eve tried her damnest to keep me contained. Thank you for killing her by the way. And Lucifer…never did get a chance to thank good old Mikey for removing that thorn. You know he was booted for a second reason right? Oh of course you don't. See…Lucy knew all about me. He knew of other winged bastards who wanted me freed and tried to stop them. And I'm certainly not talking about feathered types; Nephilim, my friend, the Fallen Ones. Knowing too much can get you removed too you know."
The stranger paused for a moment as if considering what next to say. Castiel remained patient, images of blood and pain haunting his heart.
"When you opened Purgatory, I was let out. It didn't take me long to find this place. These are precious to you right?" The voice grew tarnished with a sneer as Oblivion gestured around the house.
"You realize that this one in particular screamed for you with his last? I guess he was hoping you were listening. I knew you weren't though. But, I'll cut you a deal. Some slack even. Since you let me out, I'll bring them all back to life. As if it never happened. I'll even erase their memories of your so-called betrayal. Make them all think you gave up on purgatory at Dean's behest. "
Castiel blinked. Dean, Sam, Bobby…alive and breathing and arguing again. No more blood spattered walls and horrifically mutilated bodies. Instead of begging for it like he wanted to, Castiel asked, "What do you want?"
Oblivions eyes sparked to life with something terrifyingly cold and predatory. "How about those souls you took from my prison?"
Castiel's body stiffened. The souls of purgatory…that much power could help this being destroy the world and heaven and hell with it. But…he looked at Dean, out past the man where Sam, and even further, Bobby lay. He looked to them…and nodded. The last thing Castiel remembered was agonizing pain, a blinding flash of light and Dean standing over him, whole and healthy and concerned calling his name repeatedly.