Title: and then there were none
Characters/Pairings: Castiel, Jimmy, Leviathan
Rating: PG-13
Summary: 6.22-7.01 – behind the scenes. Jimmy doesn't take kindly to the uninvited guests.
Word Count: 1551
Notes: Speculation like whoa.
"Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear.
He beholdeth all high things: he is a king over all the children of pride."
- Job 41:33-34, KJV
Jimmy wakes up, as abruptly as if a switch has been flipped. A vague, gnawing pain pulses somewhere he can't quite reach. He longs to sink into sleep again, reclaim the illusion of warmth, of everything he once had; but he can't quite let go, not with the pain linking him even tenuously to feeling, the reality of what and where he is; a prisoner who can never go home.
The pain digs in its hooks a little more, and with a sudden shock he recognizes the jagged cut of it, its slow exquisite unfurling of hurt like the petals of a flower. Castiel is grieving, a black maelstrom of emotion where for so long there had been nothing but cold righteous anger. Jimmy's bitterness fades, lost in his surprise.
What's wrong, Castiel? Did you lose the war? Carefully: did someone die?
Jimmy? Castiel shakes himself free from stupor, rearranging his many wings with ponderous grace. You should not be awake.
You shouldn't have let me wake. Jimmy reaches out, tentative, and to his alarm Castiel actually leans into him, taking the offered comfort without a murmur. There is something strange about him; he seems thinner, paler, as though a bank of clouds has rolled over the brightness of his sun. What's wrong? Jimmy asks.
Nothing; there is no need for concern. But they both know he is lying.
The souls surge in, relentless.
Somehow there is room. And still more room for the next, the next, and the next. Jimmy screams, spitting blood and pitch smoke. He feels as though he is going to burst apart, like he is going to die. But it goes on and on, and worse is the dawning, horrifying realization that there is no escape from this.
Castiel stretches, languorous with power, like a sated cat. He stands, staggering only slightly with the new weight shifting through them, their veins and their brain and the marrow of their bones.
Castiel!
God, Castiel corrects. Be honored as the first witness to my ascension…to the new God of this world.
What?
Your faith was shaken, as was mine, Castiel declares. But it need not be any longer. I will make right all that is wrong, I will make better all that is good. He glows with fervor, the old uncertain and unhappy Castiel gone as though he had just been another dream and Jimmy finds he does not like what has come to stand in his stead.
You let all these monsters in, he accuses. Into my body!
It was necessary for the plan.
I never said yes! I never consented!
It was not necessary, Castiel says, breezy and casual as he shakes out his wings, prepares to fly. But you will see, Jimmy. You will come to understand.
It will all be worth it, in the end.
Oh, what do we have here? A lost little human soul.
The voice circles him curiously, pinning him down with the blades of a thousand gazes. He stirs.
Who are you?
The angel – sorry, God – never hears him now, but they do. The relief he feels is, however, short-lived.
What are we?
Soft sniggering from the shadows. Then:
We are Leviathan.
And we are so hungry…
Teeth snap at him out of the darkness, but they cannot touch. Not yet. Castiel! Jimmy calls, afraid, but an invisible hand forces him down again into unwilling sleep, away from the circling monsters. They cannot hurt you, God says. I have commanded it.
Somehow, Jimmy is not reassured, and when he sleeps again his dreams are restless and filled with dim foreboding.
LET US OUT.
His skin rises and falls in grotesque hills and valleys where the trapped souls push, raging and desperate. He feels it like an amputee feels the phantom pain of a lost arm; something distant and disconnected, a crawling itch in the corner of his mind. His body is breaking apart and he can do nothing but watch helplessly.
LET US OUT!
The black sea shivers around him, filled with the rushing shapes of myriad unknowable creatures. They leave shards of memory in their wake, red and bloody, and he cuts himself on their broken edges.
Let me out!
His own voice goes unheard, lost in the tumult.
Leviathan surges up his throat, the weight of it on his tongue as cold and salty as the sea. For the first time in his long life Castiel experiences the feeling of drowning, of choking for a respite that will not come. He gasps and flails as the sensation of a thousand groping hands threads through the tattered remnants of his grace, pulling him deeper through the smothering dark. The vastness of Leviathan's soul closes over him, scarred and pockmarked by the ravages of time and Purgatory and if Castiel thought he understood eternity he soon realizes the enormity of his mistake.
Leviathan lets him know: he is small, helpless; he is nothing but a piece of flotsam, tossed about carelessly on the waves of Leviathan's whims. He is only an angel; there was a time when Leviathan had angels for breakfast.
But hey, you helped us out. We suppose we could owe you a favour...
What abooout...a front row seat to Survivor: Special World Edition? The Way It Should Have Ended!
Leviathan laughs and laughs, wild and hysterical. Castiel shuts his wings and drops down, away from the myriad voices that roll over him in a wave, the beginnings of a terrible storm.
He has someone to find; one last duty to discharge.
You had no right!
Weak and insignificant as Jimmy Novak's soul is, his anger still burns, in some ways worse than the Leviathan's cruel taunts.
I'm sorry.
You damn well should be.
Jimmy falls silent, listening to the cries of the creatures around them, the high exultant timbre of their song. The sounds are very close. This narrow space that Castiel has carved out for them will not last, the arch of his wings already trembling with the strain. Nor will this body.
A thin thread of blood is already curving over Jimmy's lip, black and tainted. His eyes fix on Castiel. What is going to happen to you?
I will die, Castiel says, plainly, with resignation.
You've died before and come back, Jimmy points out.
That was before I presumed to claim the mantle of the one who raised me. Castiel still wonders why. Why, he had told himself, if not to achieve great deeds? To conquer Heaven and lead it under the banner of free will. It all seems so foolish now, this dream, so far away. This is how he had repaid his Father's trust – with treachery, with false pride. There will be no third chance for him.
You deserve this, you know, Jimmy says, narrowing his eyes. After all you've done…what's going to happen. You just set a bunch of crazy flesh-eating monsters loose on the world. What, did you think saving it once gave you some kind of license to gamble it away on a stupid stunt like this?
I'm sorry, Castiel can only say. This is…regret, he thinks in what is almost wonderment. All his existence, he had only moved from one mission to another, believing always in the righteousness of his chosen path. That belief had been as much a weapon as that of his holy blade and his angelic powers; stripped of it now he feels weak and tired and full of pain, more so than he had ever been even as a human. Once, he could have convinced himself that everything would be worth the ultimate result; everything and everyone he had sacrificed, the ties he had lost. He stands now amidst the ruins of his illusions, his pride. He had been wrong. He had thrown away everything, for nothing, for this tightening bubble with only the soul of a man with every reason to despise him for company.
I do hate you, Jimmy whispers. If only you had listened to me…to the Winchesters…
I know, Castiel says. I would beg your forgiveness, if I dared.
I don't think I could, Jimmy says honestly, but also gently. Blood is seeping from his hairline now, from the soft skin beneath his eyes. His soul shines with a growing light that picks out dark, unspeakable shapes from the greater darkness, drawn like sharks to the scent, their eyes glowing with an insatiable appetite.
I won't let them take you, Castiel promises fiercely, gripping him tight. His wings shake with the strain of keeping the Leviathan at bay. You'll have Heaven, the least that I can do, the least that you deserve.
Castiel…
The coldness of the lake floods through them in a sudden, shocking torrent. The weight of the Leviathan vanishes, its many souls scattering away to freedom. Jimmy grabs hold of Castiel, choking as his body chokes, lungs running empty.
Castiel, he gasps, fighting for breath. Castiel, I wish…
He disappears. Castiel is left alone. He longs so very much to follow, but the gates of Heaven are forever barred to him now.
I wish things could have been different.
Castiel takes comfort in this small kindness, even as he drowns, even when he is going and then he is gone.
-end-
Ending Notes: Having real trouble with my JBB, will probably end up dropping out. Wrote this in the space of a few hours to re-invigorate my muse with my other WIPs at least. Hopefully, this story made sense and doesn't end up eventually violating canon.