Castiel is a game beta tester hired by Sam Winchester to play through the man's mysterious video game. What he doesn't realize is that there may be more hinging on him beating this game than his next paycheck, and that the mysterious man trapped inside the game might be a lot more real than he thought.
Written for the reversebang last year over on LiveJournal. Delor has been so patient and gave me a wonderful outline. I could have done 100k more of this if I had more time. Visit the story on AO3 to view the art links. Enjoy!
Sam: So are you going to help me?
Castiel squints at his computer screen, fingers drumming off-rhythm, one at a time, along the wrist cushion on his mouse pad.
It's certainly an interesting concept – there's clear influence from classic adventure games from what Castiel has seen of the somewhat blurry concept art Sam Winchester had scanned in to him, and the mechanics seem sound, if simple.
Sam: I'll pay you for your trouble, even if you don't decide to play through. Just one hour man, please, I'm desperate.
He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. Castiel really is in no position to refuse money – his final notice check had come and gone about a week ago and if he calls maintenance one more time about the heat they're going to realize he's still squatting here way past his eviction date.
"Fuck," he mutters, rubbing over his nose until he no longer feels the urge to sneeze at the dust. "What the Hell."
Castiel: Sure, I'll do it. One hour.
He can practically hear Sam's relief in his response.
Sam: Awesome! Thank you so much, Mr. Novak. Thank you!
They arrange a time tomorrow, and Castiel frowns at the address; it's an area he is familiar with, though he can't quite pinpoint why. It's outside of the city, close to that giant eyesore that the city calls a medical hospital, all big and grey and reaching up to rip a piece of the clouds down from the sky. There's an entire suburb that almost sits in its shadow no matter what time of the day it is.
He closes out of his messenger and stows his laptop. The homeless shelter should have openings tonight, since the nights have been unseasonably warm and the homeless of the city don't like being squished together all in one place. Maybe if Castiel hurries he can get himself a spot with the regulars.
It's drizzling outside when he makes his way out of what used to be his apartment, his shoulders hunched in and his hands sunk deep into the pockets of his coat. He has his rucksack slung along one shoulder and the satchel holding his laptop wrapping around both, so that it hangs at his opposite hip and close to his body. Even on top of that, he keeps one hand resting on the worn material so that he'll know if anyone tries to touch it.
The laptop is old but his entire livelihood. With Sam Winchester's check hopefully he'll be able to buy a new one and start getting more jobs, and get his life back together.
He smiles to himself, ducking his head as he pushes open the door to the local shelter. He's getting ahead of himself – again. "Calm the fuck down," he mutters, not even a little out of place as he signs in and is guided over to a cot. He sets the laptop down and his bag over it and uses it as a pillow, both arms wrapped around his things, sleeping on his stomach.
Tomorrow looks promising, but Castiel has learned not to get his hopes up too quickly.
The whole place looks like a reject from an Alien movie. There is one giant blue screen, a mess of wires connecting a little camera at the top of the monitor to a helmet resting on a worn wooden desk. There is a platform big enough to walk across within three strides, even with Castiel's large steps, and the wires lay haphazardly everywhere as though they had been thrown with a wing and a prayer, hoping that they might, at some point, connect to something useful.
Sam Winchester is not what Castiel would have expected. He's tall, well kept, put together. His hair is long enough to reach his shoulders and thick and shiny, and he's almost twice as broad as Castiel is across the shoulders, and has a suit with a large enough price tag to cover enough food to feed Castiel for a month.
Castiel shakes his hand, and keeps his chin raised so that he can meet Sam's sincere, child-like expression. He looks so hopeful, way too invested in a video game for someone whose financial success clearly does not hinge upon it. Castiel wants to ask, but he doesn't expect much from this venture. He'll play for an hour and, if necessary, longer, and tell Sam what he needs to do to fix the game, if there are any bugs, and then he'll be on his way a little richer and never see Sam Winchester ever again.
"What's your estimated play-through time?" he asks, taking the helmet that Sam gives him. It's meant to be some kind of virtual reality thing and though Castiel doesn't doubt it can and will function that way, he can't imagine anyone will want to play this kind of game in a virtual reality setting. It doesn't seem like it will be combat heavy, and from the way Sam described it Castiel doesn't imagine he'll be doing a lot of physical exercise or trials that involve full immersion, but he'll wait and hold his judgments for the end.
Sam shifts his weight and wrings his hands together. There's something about his face that makes him look forty and something in his eyes that makes him look like he's five years old. "I have no idea," he admits with a shrug. "I hope not too long, though. I don't want it to take too long."
"There are some games, with side quests, that can take people anywhere between ten to a hundred hours," Castiel replies, raising one unimpressed eyebrow. "How long do you think it would take you?"
"I've been building this game for two years," Sam says. "And I still haven't finished it. That's why I need you."
Castiel frowns at him. "You haven't…finished it?" he asks, incredulous. "What the Hell does that mean? You designed it."
Sam shakes his head. "Well, no, I didn't," he says. "My, ah, my brother – all of this is his idea, you know, and I mean – look, are you going to play through it or not?" He squares his shoulders and straightens up to his full height. "I need this game completed as soon as possible, Mister Novak. Are you going to play it for me?"
Castiel frowns down at the helmet in his hands, before he sighs and ducks his head so that he can fit his head into the helmet. It's soft and a little too large for him, and he has to tighten the strap under his chin a little more so that the visor sits well in front of his eyes, but for the most part it doesn't seem any different than the usual virtual reality setup. He really hopes that one day there's good enough technology not to require this type of thing.
"Here." Sam hands him some gloves with little white motion-capture sensors on the pads of his fingers and the backs of his hands, and some kneepads and boots as well that Castiel quickly puts on. With all the wires coming out of the boots he knows he will have to be careful when he moves until he gets used to them, but for now for all their bulk they seem relatively unobtrusive and light when he stretches his legs and tests out a kicking motion. "You ready?"
Castiel flexes his fingers, presses his lips together, and nods. "There some sort of login I'm gonna need?" he asks.
Sam shakes his head and ducks behind a veritable wall of three computer monitors. "I'm gonna send you straight into the start, if that's alright."
Castiel narrows his eyes, but before he can ask a small blue bar zips across his visor, drawing his attention. He straightens, his eyes following the small cursor before it comes to a stop in his visor in a tiny blue square. He pulls the helmet down a little further on his head so that the screen obscures his whole vision, completing the immersive effect, as a scene explodes to life and color in front of his eyes.
He wants to ask what to expect, simply because it will make completing the game a more streamlined experience so that he can give Sam as quick a bug report as possible, but he holds his tongue. He has always liked discovering the nooks and crannies of games and this time is no different.
A huge, green field spreads out in front of him. He is standing on the top of a hill, his gaze unbroken for as far as he can see except for more perfect, rolling hills. In the distance it looks a little fuzzy, grainier, and even when he narrows his eyes it doesn't sharpen, the graphics fading out to nothingness. The sky is a pretty, clear blue, unbroken by even a single cloud.
His personal preference is actual weather, and he files away that note for later. There is a sun, shining from somewhere behind him, and casts his shadow. He's wearing a helmet with wings on the side, from the look of it, as well as armor that widens his shoulders, and he can see the tips of black boots in the grass.
He tries to lift his hands and move his helmet off of his head, but can't touch the material when he tries, as though the game doesn't allow him to alter it. A bug, then – he should be able to touch it, if not trade it out or take it off.
He reaches back further and down to his sides, searching for weapons, and his fingers hit a sun-warmed piece of wood. He shrugs it off and holds it in front of him. A bow. He's an archer, but when he reaches back he can feel no quivers or arrows. Perhaps he earns it later.
He shrugs the bow back over one shoulder and frowns when, suddenly, the sun gets blocked out by a huge shadow, leaving him cold.
He turns around and almost snaps his neck from looking up so far and so suddenly.
"Holy…"
Castiel has to admit, the rendering is pretty much flawless. It's a castle, stretching up high enough to dominate his entire screen. The stone is a dark, glittery grey, the turrets black and red in rings around the top of the towers. A huge square building makes up the main entrance and there is a single tower on one side of the building, and a courtyard that juts out into the grass and comes to a stop just a few feet from Castiel.
There is a giant window in front of him, shattered so that it is merely a collection of jagged glass in a huge, gaping hole. He cannot see inside, but can't decide if that's simply sloppy design or if it's on purpose.
The entire castle gives him a vague sense of foreboding, and he nods, straightening up and walking onto the courtyard.
As soon as his feet step onto the stone, two jets of light jump down from the tall tower. There is a flag on the tower, limp without wind, and Castiel can just make out a corner of the design, which looks like two stags locking horns on a cross of green on black.
The jets of light hit the stone with a splashing sound, arching up like jets of water and towards him. Castiel tenses, his hand falling to a sword that isn't there at his side on instinct, raising his other arm across his eyes to shield them from the sudden brightness.
Light washes over him like the sun, warming him up again, before the light abruptly vanishes, leaving a dark spot in front of each eye that he rapidly tries to blink away, before lowering his arm.
There are two stags standing in front of him. One of them is the same brilliant golden color as the light, and looks as though it is made of it, in rippling streams of white and gold that pass all across its body. In its mouth it is holding a black apple and stares at him with dark eyes. The other stag is its opposite, made of pure shadow, holding a bright golden apple in its mouth. The stag is holding the apple loosely, precariously as though it might fall at any moment in contrast to the tight grip the other stag has on its apple, and its eyes are a brilliant, striking green, darker than the grass Castiel had just stepped from, covering its whole eye.
They stand there, staring at him, their ears perked up and eyes fixed on his face. Castiel looks between them, searching for a clue, but they are motionless aside from the ripples of light and shadow in their bodies.
It's not unusual to have a crossroads so soon in a game, but Castiel is a little thrown by it, for some reason he can't name. For a moment it becomes very difficult to remember that he is, in fact, in a game, playing a character, with a decision to make.
Which way, he thinks, staring between them. He flexes his fingers by his side and takes another step forward, intent on walking between them. The golden stag rears up and turns on its heels, darting away towards the tower from which it had materialized. Castiel watches it go, his eyes drawn to the golden spots of light that make up its steps as it runs, before it skids to a stop and waits for him by the tower.
The black stag ducks its head, apple dangling and swinging from the lazy hold in its mouth, and drags one foreleg against the ground once, twice, pawing it. Castiel winces at the sharp sound of hoof against stone and instinctively takes a step away as the stag lowers its head, mean-looking antlers angled Castiel's way.
He doesn't have any weapons, and Castiel's eyes dart to the golden stag that is still watching him, ears up and alert. He could run for it. The game wants him to win, right? He should try to get to the tower – that's the closest door, anyway, the little wooden door standing out against the grey stone like a dark target.
Castiel takes a deep breath, momentarily grateful that he has no weapons that could impede his progress, and makes a run for it.
He hears the scrape of the black stag's hooves against the cobblestones, giving chase as he runs. He is sure he won't make it, but then the golden stag leaps over his head and he skids to a stop at the door, hauling it open and darting inside.
When he closes the door it turns clear, morphing and changing into thick crystal so that Castiel can see where he'd come from. He sees the stags with their horns locked, the black stag digging its back hooves hard into the cobblestones and jerking its head against the golden stag in an attempt to throw it over. The golden stag is slightly bigger, and looks stronger, and Castiel breathes a small sigh of relief, sure that at least the black stag will be distracted enough not to chase him as he gets away.
He turns away, looking at his new surroundings. There is a single chest set against the wall and Castiel walks over, hauling it open. There's no money or weapons inside, but Castiel finds a beaten, worn quiver and so he bends down and unloads the bow, before he wraps the quiver over his head and around his shoulders and settles the bow the opposite way. He reaches back to test the angle and readiness of the arrows and finds he can draw and aim fairly quickly, when he pretends to pull an arrow out and lines it up to pretend to shoot through the crystal.
"Good," he murmurs, putting the bow back over his shoulder as well and shrugging until it settles comfortably across his shoulders. There is nothing else in the bottom of the room except for the first of a long spiral of stairs.
Castiel starts up them, careful to watch the corners as he rises. For each step he takes, as soon as his foot leaves them it turns into the same see-through crystal, as though marking his progress by seeing how far he's come. It's an interesting idea and Castiel makes a note to ask Sam about it afterwards, but for now he keeps quiet just in case the game is sound-sensitive and he'll attract unwanted attention by speaking.
He's halfway up the staircase by the time he reaches the first door. It's unlocked and gives under his hand easily, not even a handle to stop his way, and he steps onto level ground with a welcome sigh. The stairs beyond look a little precarious, and he sincerely hopes he gets some equipment to either ensure his safety, or he never has to go up the rest of the tower.
At his first step, the entire floor melts into pretty pink crystal, giving him a dizzying view of the room below. He kneels down, peering through the crystal that has to be at least a foot thick, and sees a single large, unbroken room below. The floor and walls are the same grey stone and there are slits like windows running down each side of the room, breaking up the floor in thick stripes of bright light. The room Castiel is standing in has a wall that remains stone so that he cannot see what lays at the end of the room, and even when he rises and goes over to touch it, the stone remains stubbornly opaque. He stifles a groan of frustration, but recognizes a goal now – he should get down into the room below. That seems like the smart way to go.
There was no door below the giant broken window and leading into the big room, and looking down Castiel can still see no way to get into the room, so there must be another way to get there.
He nods to himself, letting his attention wander back to the room he is standing in. There are three shelves in thick wood against the far wall and piles of armor in each corner. There are weapons laying askew in another pile and Castiel frowns, tilting his head to one side. The mess suggests disrepair, an old armory that had been abruptly abandoned.
Why? he thinks to himself, licking his lips, before he goes over to the first pile of weapons. His hands pass through each one, ineffective, and the same with the armor. Castiel stifles another sound of frustration – he has a feeling he's really going to need a sword, and soon. The shelves have books and papers scattered across them, in writing too blurry and unrefined for Castiel to read, and he throws them down as well.
"Damn it," he mutters, wiping a hand over his face. There are no useless rooms in a video game, he knows this. Unless Sam and this brother of his are just lazy storytellers. "What am I supposed to do?"
He runs his hands along the wall behind the shelf, just for good measure, and narrows his eyes when he sees it melt into crystal as well except for a single part just behind the shelf. Well, that's something. Castiel steps back and to the side of the shelf and, with a grunt of effort, hauls the shelves away just a little bit so that he can duck behind them. There are four stones about the length of his arm and thick as he is, making a long line from just above the floor to over his head. Castiel frowns, pressing against them again and grunting when they refuse to change.
It's a puzzle. Castiel's mind whirs, trying to figure it out, and he tries pressing his hand against them again. He thinks, if he listens very carefully, he can hear a bell chiming whenever he touches it. Another stone gives another chime, this time higher, and another lower, the fourth lower still.
They must make a tune of some kind, but Castiel can't remember any clues as to what that tune might be. "Come on," he growls, pushing at the stones again in order, frowning at them. "Something, anything."
The stones, predictably, don't help him, and Castiel huffs and turns away, hoping for some kind of visual clue. The way he is angled gives him a good view of the room below and the courtyard outside. The two stags have disappeared and Castiel tenses up again, sure that the black stag will be trying to find him again. Perhaps the game has that constant antagonist trying to chase him down – the thought is not a comforting one and Castiel's fingers flex again, trying to think. He needs a weapon, and if there's such an awkward and difficult puzzle so soon then it must be a good weapon or useful item hidden behind it. Besides, there is no way up the stairs and no other doors in the room – that switch must do something.
He turns back to the collection of four stones and presses the top left one again, over and over until the tone gets louder and he can hum along to it, and then he hits the top right one. It's a little higher than the first. The bottom right is lower, and the bottom left the lowest of the four. The only songs he can think of with four notes seem completely irrelevant to him and he's drawing a complete blank.
Did he hear any music when he first entered the game? Castiel thinks it might be a Zelda-esque setup, but he can't hear anything. In fact, everything is eerily quiet, unsettlingly so. He's used to some kind of musical score backdrop on a game.
He huffs, dropping his hands again with a sigh, and turns back to the staircase. Perhaps he will find another clue somewhere else and be able to come back.
As soon as he crosses the threshold into the stairs, he hears a sound that's suspiciously animal. He freezes, turning around.
There is a creature in the room now. It's small, and has a long winding tail that flicks around it like a lazy cat. Its eyes are huge and black and its fur is a bright golden color like the stag outside. If he had to make a guess, he would say that the creature is vaguely feline, but the legs are very short and the head very large and its blank, huge black eyes are as mesmerizing as they are unsettling.
The cat meows again, showing its huge canines. It pushes itself to its feet and Castiel can see the black apple wrapped tightly in a loop of its incredibly long tail. Castiel steps over to it, cautiously – the golden animals must be his friends in this story; because the stag had helped him and presumably this cat will too. Even so, his hand tightens on his bow and his other fist clenches, ready to strike a blow, however useless that may be.
The cat meows again, and starts purring as Castiel approaches. The tip of its tail flicks lazily back and forth, back and forth, as it stares up at Castiel with its big black eyes.
"Thank you," Castiel says, feeling awkward speaking aloud to an imaginary collection of graphics and sound bytes. Still, the cat gives him a wide, toothy smile, its purring getting louder. "Do you know what…where I go from here?"
The cat blinks at him – one slow gesture that somehow manages to communicate in a very cat-like fashion just how dumb Castiel is to that cat – before it starts to purr again. Castiel sighs, about to turn away, before his ears catch the semblance of a tune. It's subtle, but the cat is definitely purring…a song.
It almost sounds like a lullaby.
The stones don't quite communicate the tune, since the high notes are all the same and it's rudimentary at best, but Castiel manages to puzzle out how the stones are meant to play the song. The cat purrs the same few notes over and over, less than two bars worth of music, before there is an audible 'click', and the stones melt away into empty space.
"Interesting," Castiel whispers to himself, a small smile on his face. So part of this game will rely on patience. It's not a factor usually necessary in a lot of adventure games.
He can be patient.
The hollow inside is dark and Castiel looks back to thank the cat, only to find that it has disappeared with only a string of golden footsteps leading to the door to mark its departure. He shrugs, ducking down and into the space, walking through the thick stone in the darkness. He feels his way along the walls, grimacing at the spider webs and slimy, sticky moisture along the walls.
For a brief second the thought occurs to him that this game might have giant mutant spiders to fight. He shudders, shaking his head. He hatesthose giant things, how they move, the sounds they make – fuck, he really hopes Sam and his brother aren't spider-monster fanatics.
There is a light starting at the end of the tunnel and Castiel hurries towards it, breathless at what he might find. The walls remain stone and so give away nothing to him about where he might be within the castle itself, and then the light is suddenly upon him and Castiel can see and he's standing outside, on a wall of the castle. He can see those rolling green hills for miles around and the giant square building that makes up the castle proper is right next to him.
He turns and his eyes widen when he sees the giant, gaping maw of the shattered window less than three feet from him. The wall he's standing on runs right up to it – if he wanted he could climb right inside and theoretically enter the room.
He nods to himself, turning away to look at his surroundings one more. The wall he's standing on is turning into crystal again, but so far it looks largely unimportant. He can see no chests or anything of that nature, nothing that might give him a weapon or any clue as to his direction.
Down below in the courtyard, he can see no evidence of the two stags, but he is on high alert for the black one, sure that it will be chasing him in an attempt to stop him from completing whatever quest this game is meant to have as its arc.
He does not feel like an adventurer in a game, but rather a witness to a story that has already happened, and he's not quite sure how he feels about that.
With nothing else to do, Castiel turns towards the giant window and tries to climb up. The window starts well over his head but he jumps up, fingers hooking around the edge, and manages to haul himself up into the giant stone hollow. The glass that used to make up the window is almost a foot thick and dark, though Castiel can see places where there might have once been colors, set into the glass. He wonders, idly, what the image on the window should have been, and if he will get the chance to see it.
The window itself is almost twelve feet thick when Castiel walks across it, past the rim of glass and into the other side.
The light fades out and then back in, and when Castiel blinks he's inside of the huge center room.
It stretches out, huge and grey and lined with light. There are slits hardly wider than his hand, it looks like, casting long lines of light onto the floor and revealing a long, straight staircase that leads right into the center of the room. The end of the room is shrouded in darkness and unlit, but there is a single lantern standing at the top of the stairs.
Castiel steps towards the staircase, on high alert. It's so quiet, and every part of him is on edge and waiting for something to happen. Anything could jump out at him – the rafters are high and shrouded in darkness, the tiny flickering light the only illumination in the entire room.
He unhooks the lantern, holding it high above his head as he slowly pads down the stairs. His boots make soft thumps in the carpet, the only sound currently breaking the void of silence that feels as though it's pressing in on him from all sides.
He can hear something humming.
It's a quiet, mechanical-sounding hum, completely out of place with the medieval setting this game is set into. Frowning, Castiel looks around, waving the lantern in front of him in an attempt to see the walls of the room. It's completely empty as far as he can see, with only the dark red carpet stretching out in front of him to mark a possible path.
"Haven't even found any fucking weapons yet," he mutters, shaking his head before he turns to start down the carpet. The entire building remains stubbornly stone, the slits of light almost five strides apart and doing absolutely nothing to illuminate the room. Instead it feels as though those small strips of golden light do nothing but enhance and intensify the darkness.
He almost runs right into a small chest that lays on its side, already busted open and leaking out a thick red cloak onto the ground. He kneels down, setting the lantern to one side and then pulls the cloak out of the chest. As he does so, his hands run along something thick and solid wrapped in the cloak's soft folds, and as the cloak comes out the thing falls to the ground with a hollow, metallic sound.
It's a sword. "Finally," Castiel whispers, setting the cloak to one side and picking up the weapon. The handle is the same dark red as the turrets of the tower and the carpet he's kneeling on and the heavy red cloak, the image of two leaping deer coming down from the grip and merging into the circular curve of the handguard. The sword is long, its sheath the same dark red, and when Castiel pulls it out it comes easily with a bright 'shing', glowing in the lantern light.
He smiles, standing, and wraps the scabbard belt loosely around his waist, before pulling it tight and feeling the sword settle as a comforting weight on his hip. Then, he bends down and picks up the cloak as well. There isn't such a thing as warm or cold in the video game, of course, but fully immersed he can't help but feel the comforting weight and imagine the sensation of warmth and protection.
Picking up the lantern again, Castiel starts to walk once more, deeper into the darkness. It's easier with a sword in hand, now, although he knows that it means he will likely start the combat portion of the game soon. So far everything has been relatively based on patience and problem solving, but Castiel has always preferred games with combat anyway.
Abruptly, the carpet veers in a sharp curve to the right, and Castiel frowns, lifting his lantern higher as he follows it. At one point he passes a single sconce, and lights it, providing a little extra steady light. There is a second a little ways down, then a third, and as soon as he lights a fourth the entire room abruptly lights up as though someone had flicked on the fluorescence.
"…Oh."
An entire section of the wall has been completely blown away. The light streams through in a thick arc along the ground from the hole in the wall. The light illuminates a high altar shrouded in spider webs. Some of the strings are as thick as Castiel's wrist and stretch out so far that they disappear over the edge of the castle floor and into the green garden beyond.
Castiel sets the lantern by another sconce and steps forward, one hand on the handle of his sword, the other ready to reach back and grab his bow.
The entire scene is swathed in that rich golden light, making the web seem oddly glittery. The altar was once pristine white stone, but as Castiel approaches it looks like there were scorch marks branded up the side, leaving it dirty-looking and smeared with ash.
He approaches the altar, where there is a small break in the webbing large enough for him to step up to it. There's a message scrawled across the once-white stone, smeared as though made with fingers and reading; The Spiderweb Prince. May he sleep forever.
Castiel frowns, stepping back, and peers more closely at the mound of webbing on the altar. It glitters in the sunlight, unmoving, until Castiel sees the first small rise of something on the altar. He reaches forward, his hand hitting something solid hidden under the sticky, gross mass of web.
He pulls it back and it separates with a light prickling sound, revealing a handsome face shining in the light. It's the face of a man, his lips pink and full, his eyes closed as though in a light sleep, although Castiel can see his eyes roving around under his closed lids.
Castiel sucks in a deep breath, cursing softly, and lets go of his weapons to tear at the webbing with both hands. He can only free half of the man's body before the webbing becomes too strong to tear with strength alone, but it reveals a bare chest covered in the same black ash and the shape of a single wing draped over the side of the altar, bloody and white. There is no second wing, but a smear of red blood instead, and Castiel can't fight off the sickening idea that perhaps it is simply no longer there, torn off and discarded like an old band-aid.
The man is still breathing, rapid and shallow, his eyes moving wildly under his eyelids, but he remains asleep. Castiel swallows and undoes the cloak he'd found, draping it over the man's torso to shield him from the cold he's not sure is actually there. There is definitely a breeze now, evident in the way the webs stir and sway around the man's altar.
Castiel becomes aware for the second time of that humming sound, and he draws away from the shape of the resting man and follows the sound to find a thick black wire running down from the man's altar. It disappeared under the webbing somewhere by the man's foot and runs off into the green garden that lays beyond the shattered wall.
"What the Hell?" Castiel asks, frowning at the wire. It doesn't fit in with the rest of the genre of the game, and quite frankly he's more annoyed than confused. It's getting tiring running into non-threatening situations with no obvious clues of what to do.
His head snaps up when he hears a clacking sound – the same sound the hooves of the black deer had made on the cobblestones outside. He draws his sword with a low curse and ducks under the altar, plugging his nose in an effort to quiet his breathing.
One corner of the cloak hands down by his head, and Castiel waits with baited breath as the hooves come closer, before abruptly falling silent. Then, with a soft rustle, the cloak slowly gets dragged across the man's chest, disappearing from Castiel's sight.
Fuck, Castiel thinks, right before he sees the shadowy shape of the black stag rounding the corner.
The golden apple in its mouth sways precariously from its teeth as it stops and turns its head to look at him, green eyes bright and mischievous. The way its teeth are bared make it seem like it's smiling. Castiel shoves himself to his feet, sword drawn and aimed at the animal.
The stag cocks its ears towards him, before it turns its head to regard the man sleeping on the altar. Castiel swallows, stepping between them so that the man is shielded from the animal's bright, piercing gaze. Some instinct pulls at him, telling him to protect the man on the altar.
"Get back!" he yells, raising his sword higher so that it is pointed straight at the animal's eye. "Don't touch him!"
The deer snorts at him, pawing the ground, before it rears up, skipping back, lowering its head, rushing Castiel, darting away at the last moment. Castiel growls, slashing his sword at the animal as it rushes him away, and his sword catches the stag's horns with an unearthly screeching sound.
The deer snorts again, nostrils flared, hooves scratching the floor. Castiel stands, his back against the altar, refusing to let the animal get too close to him or the man on the altar.
He swings his sword as the deer rushes him one more time, slicing across its nose with a grunt of effort. The stag bleeds gold, running down its nose and onto the apple swinging from its mouth and dripping onto the ground. With every drop the ground shakes, hard enough that it makes Castiel's knees tremble.
"Get back!" he yells again, slashing at the beast one more time.
It shrieks at him, backing away, before there is another flash of light and the golden stag appears, stabbing its horns into the black stag's flank and sending it flying away from the altar. Castiel sighs, lowering his sword, one hand resting back on the altar to keep himself steady as he watches the golden stag rush the black one again. The black stag has already recovered, big shoulders bulging with effort as it locks horns with the golden one, both of them sending sparks across the tile from the strikes of their hooves.
Castiel sheathes his sword and circles the altar, being sure to keep himself between the dueling stags and the altar. Abruptly the image comes to his head of the flag banner he had seen on the castle towers, and he squints at the two animals, before turning his attention to the sleeping man on the altar.
The Spiderweb Prince.
The prince.
Castiel takes a deep breath, sure now that whatever his central arc is supposed to be, it involves this man somehow. He will have to escape the two animals and find a way to figure out what, exactly, he's meant to do.
Some inward pull tells him it's unsafe to leave the man here, but he must leave or else risk getting caught in the crossfire of the two animals, who are still beating at each other with all the fury of the animal kingdom. Castiel sheaths his sword, slipping around the back of the altar, and runs to the giant hole blasted into the wall. He follows the thick black wire and runs across it, following it out of the castle and into a beautiful, luscious green garden fringed with tall oak trees holding bright red apples, and grass crisp with dew. He knows it's a game, but Castiel can't help looking at the rendering, thinking it much more realistic than the opening scene had been. It almost feels as though he could reach out and touch the trees and feel bark underneath his fingers.
He follows the wire until it disappears into the mouth of a thick hedge, and without thinking Castiel runs into it, eager to put as much distance between himself and the stags as possible. Inside of the hedge is a giant courtyard filled with an eerily still pool. It looks like it used to be a fountain, complete with a giant statue in the middle of it, but the water has long since gone still. Castiel can see little golden fish swimming around in it, mixed with their black and red cousins. The air is eerily still again, no wind or sound to speak of reaching Castiel.
Standing on the edge of the pool, Castiel sees the golden cat. It's purring, long tail twitching, and meows at him. He comes over, reaching out and smiling when the golden animal tilts its head into the palm of his hand.
"Hello," he says, softly. The cat's purring only gets louder. "What are you doing here?"
Above him, a little spark of light catches his eye and he tilts his head up to see a little golden bird flit over to the statue and land on it. Its eyes are the same big black as the other golden animals and Castiel can see a little golden cherry clutched in its beak. The bird flaps its wings, and three more join it, each clutching their own black fruit.
Castiel frowns, letting go of the cat's head, and steps into the lake. The water is cold and the fish dart away as soon as he disturbs it. He can feel his toes knock against more black apples sitting heavy on the bottom of the pool bed.
He approaches the statue, squinting against the bright glow of the birds. The fountain gets deep enough that the water laps at his knees, and he shivers even though he knows, objectively, there's no cold for him to feel.
The status is huge, easily three times his height and depicting the image of a stern-looking king, his crown huge and sitting on his brow, a huge sword grasped in both of his hands and wings stretched out wide behind him in an intimidating stance. There are others gathered around the feet of the king-like figure, their mouths open in screams and their hands lifted in supplication.
Castiel frowns, raising his hand up to brush against the sweep of the king's cloak. He looks like the man that had been laying on the altar. The sword clutched in his hands resembles the one Castiel now carries to a remarkable degree.
Behind the figure of the king – not a King, Castiel realizes, but the Prince – rears a stag, all in black, its horns threaded with jewels and an apple made of pure gold clutched in its mouth. The stone is a white marble except for the stag and the golden apple, and Castiel frowns, moving around the statue to see the stag standing on the bodies and faces of supplicants at the Prince's feet.
"Oh my God," Castiel whispers, reaching out to touch the face of a woman twisted in grotesque pain. There is a banner of lettering along the edge of the statue, and Castiel circles it in an attempt to read until the words create a sentence.
The massacre took the lives of millions, until the Prince was finally subdued. Never forget the screams of those taken by his hand.
Castiel steps back, raising his head when he hears a small splashing sound. It's the golden stag, bleeding black, a splash of red blood falling from its nose. Castiel runs forward as it falls to its knees, then onto the side, turning the water black and gold as though it started to simply disintegrate.
The stag lifts its head to him as he approaches, its black eyes dark and flat. As soon as Castiel tries to touch it, it melts like ice in the sun, bleeding into the fountain and rushing towards the statue, disappearing in another flash of light.
Castiel sucks in a breath, shaking his head, and looks down as something pushes against his leg. It's the black apple, shiny and gleaming in the water. He bends down, picking it up, and lifts his head again to the statue. All the apples there had been golden, like the one in the black stag's mouth. There must be some significance in the apples, but he can't quite figure out what it is.
For lack of anything else to do, Castiel shrugs off his quiver and slips the black apple into it. It fits easily, rolling to the bottom, and he pushes the quiver back over his shoulder and lets it settle.
There's another exit on the other side of the courtyard, so Castiel climbs out of the fountain and hurries towards it. If the black stag had followed the golden one out here, it won't be far behind, and Castiel is in no hurry to meet what he's starting to think is the manifestation of the Prince's will still over his kingdom, raging and mad.
There is a long, straight pathway, fringed with hedging on either side so Castiel has no option but to go forward, and so he runs down the exposed area, conscious that at any moment the creature could come out and run him down with ease.
He rounds the corner into another courtyard. This time there is no fountain, but a mesh of trees in three lines of four. They are all covered in the same golden apples that Castiel has seen before, and it immediately puts him on high alert.
He clutches his sword and steps into the courtyard. The walls are a pretty bright crystal, with statues made of the same grey stone, and Castiel turns to the left and approaches the first one. They're all separated by the same distance, three down each edge of the courtyard and one at every corner.
The first is the statue of a man and a woman holding a small baby. The baby has wings, splayed out in play, and the man bears a striking resemblance to the sleeping prince, but older with a thicker beard on his face. The King and Queen, Castiel guesses. It's hard to tell from the stone, which looks weathered and worn, but he thinks they might be smiling.
The second statue looks slightly less damaged and shows the prince again, older now, a young child. He's playing with another young boy, this one with shaggier hair and smaller wings that look more like those of a dragon than an angel. They're both laughing together, the smaller one giving chase to his friend.
Our Princes, the stone reads just underneath the Prince's foot, and Castiel presses his lips together and moves onto the next.
The third has the prince as a young man, standing tall and proud next to his father, his younger brother on his other side. The sword Castiel found is clutched in his hands, the tip angled down to the ground, and a heavy frown weighs on his handsome face.
Unnerved, Castiel moves onto the next statue, and freezes. It's the image of two men, brothers, both with crowns on their heads, locked into a duel. The older brother, the sleeping man on the altar, looks calm and cold, his younger brother a mass of swirling rage.
"…Sam?"
Abruptly, the ground trembles, cracking apart right down the center of the courtyard. The middle row of trees falls in, and Castiel jumps to one side to avoid the crevice as it runs straight towards the statue, splitting it in half. Castiel watches as the older brother's face splits in two, and the entire half of the statue that looks so much like Sam falls into the dark chasm that just opened.
Castiel turns, ready to flee, just as the entire screen goes dark.
He opens his eyes to find Sam hauling the helmet off of his head. He's on his knees, breathing heavily, his face wet with sweat. Sam looks panicked, unhooking the gloves and kneepads and boots from Castiel's limp, unmoving body and speaking in panicked, rushed words. Castiel doesn't hear him.
Then; "You put yourself into the game."
Sam pauses, his face unreadable. "No," he replies. "Dean did."
Sam offers him food, which Castiel refuses. Then he offers coffee, which Castiel takes and drinks down like a shot of tequila.
"You were in there for six hours," Sam says, nursing his own cup like he needs the warmth more than the caffeine, eyeing Castiel as he slams down his second cup. "What did you see?"
Castiel's eyes dart to the screens Sam had access to, sees the frozen image of the breaking statue. "You know what I saw," he says.
Sam nods. "He just didn't wake up one day," he says, looking away. "I don't…I don't know what happened. I don't know how to wake him up."
"The Prince?" Castiel asks, and Sam nods. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. You saw what I did."
"It's not like that." Sam takes a sip of his coffee, shaking his head. "The game's twisted itself up since Dean stopped coming back. It's…it's taken over him, somehow. He needs to wake up, Castiel. He has to."
Sam turns to him, those five-year-old eyes in his forty-year-old face again, big and wide and pleading. "Will you keep playing?"
"I don't know how to wake him up," Castiel says with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Sam. This game doesn't make any sense to me."
Sam swallows, the corner of his jaw bulging out as he lowers his head to stare down at the lip of his coffee cup as though it might give him the answers. "Maybe…" Castiel hazards, "Maybe watching the playthrough will help me. Give me another perspective?"
Sam's head snaps up, and it feels like the entire room lights up with his relief. "Okay!" he replies, setting his coffee cup to one side and practically tripping over himself in an effort to get to the keyboard and rewind the recorded footage to the beginning.
"The game was misleading and full of confusing things," Castiel says as Sam pulls up the beginning of the video. "I couldn't get a feel for it. Honestly I thought you were just a lazy storyteller."
Sam shrugs one shoulder. "I've never been able to make sense of it," he says, and Castiel remembers when they'd first met, that Sam had said he'd been spending two years building this game.
"Is…is the Prince a real person? Your brother?" he asks.
Sam doesn't reply, which Castiel figures is all the answer he really needs.
Castiel and Sam watch the entire six hours of video once, then again, then again.
"The deer," Sam says, after what feels like days of watching. It must be, Castiel thinks. He's been here for at least twenty-four hours. "I've never met the cat. I've – I've tried to play it through, but I never got that far. The black deer always caught me."
"Is it evil?" Castiel asks. "It kills the golden animals."
"I think Dean's trying to protect himself," Sam says. "Against everything. I've never -." He breaks off, rubbing his hand over his mouth, his eyes bright. "When you got to him, that's the first time I've seen his face in days. I used to visit him in the hospital every day, but then the doctors stopped – they said I need to think about letting him go. I can't. He's still in there!"
"How much longer?" Castiel asks. His chest feels strange and cold. No one has ever loved him or cared about him as much as Sam seems to love his brother.
Sam shakes his head. "I'm – I'm all he has left, you know? But times are tough and it's, it's so fucking expensive. And if he fades much more the doctors are just gonna do it anyway, you know? So I just – I'm running out of time."
He reaches forward, nudging the space bar to get it to stop, but Castiel snaps his hand forward and catches his wrist.
"Stop," he demands, his eyes on the screen. Sam frowns over at him. "This is new."
Castiel has not seen this scene before. He can't have – it's different. "Is this your play?" he asks.
Sam shakes his head. "I never even made it to Dean."
He sees the altar, Dean's chest still shrouded in the red cloak, the thick webbing keeping his lower body pinned down, and the back wall blown out to reveal the same golden light streaming down on his body. Castiel watches for a long while, unmoving, before he sees a flicker of gold on the right of the screen. It's the golden bird he'd seen before, flitting in through the giant hole in the wall, only this time it is much larger, almost the size of an eagle, and circles around the altar before landing with a solid thwump of its wings on Dean's chest.
It's holding a black fruit in its mouth, and Castiel watches as it crawls forward, wicked-looking talons digging into the cloak, and tries to shove the black fruit into Dean's mouth. Dean is unyielding, his jaw locked even in sleep, and the bird screeches, wings flapping, trying again.
There is a bellow of rage and the black stag appears once more, green eyes burning, and stabs its horns into the bird's chest. The bird shrieks, dropping its fruit with a loud, piercing cry, and the stag throws its head, sending the pierced animal flying and landing several feet away with a thump and a streak of blood.
Castiel watches, wide-eyed, as the stag leaps over to the bird, driving its mean hooves into the animal's beak, its chest, its wings, until the bird stops squawking and stops moving and finally lies still.
"Holy shit," Sam whispers, his eyes wide. "I've – fuck."
"It's trying to keep him asleep," Castiel says. "The golden animals – they're the helpful ones, right? They've been helping me the entire game. They're trying to wake him up."
Sam snaps his fingers, nodding. "Of course! That's why the black stag keeps killing them!"
"I have to feed him that black fruit," Castiel says. "That must be the way to wake him up."
It makes sense – the black ash wishing Dean would sleep forever, the fierce statue of the stag aiding its prince in the slaughter of hundreds of people – clearly the black stag symbolizes some dark entity hanging over Dean, keeping him asleep.
Castiel stands, exhaustion forgotten. "I have to get back into the game."
"Are you sure?" Sam asks, standing also. "You've already done so much for us, Cas – I couldn't ask -."
"I want to," Castiel replies, holding up a hand to stay Sam's protest. "I want – I want to see this through."
Sam smiles, a thousand and one words all held in his face. "Thank you."
When Castiel is thrown back into the game, he finds that the sword and quiver are still with him, but the apple inside of the quiver that he had taken is gone.
"Damn it," he murmurs, unsheathing his sword and holding it ready. He's at the top of the stairs in the large hall again, and he grabs the lantern and runs down the stairs, conscious that the black stag could materialize out of the shadows at any moment.
He rounds the corner and sees Dean's altar lit with sunshine from outside, and sets the lantern down at the edge.
He's sure the stag will realize he's here any moment and come to attack him. The game must be able to sense him, somehow. It's the only way that makes sense to him.
He hears a low, rumbling purr, and turns around to see the golden cat sitting on Dean's chest, its big black eyes half-lidded, the curves of its muzzle shaped in a lazy smile to show its teeth. The tip of its tail is twitching gently back and forth across Dean's throat, curled tight around a single black apple.
"Hello," Castiel says, breathless. The cat meows at him. "I know what I need to do." He holds out his hand, his sword lowered. "Let me feed him. Let me wake him up."
The cat blinks at him, its eyes opening fully for a brief moment, before with a happy smile the cat's tail twitches and unwinds from the black apple. It settles on Dean's chest for a moment before the apple rolls into Castiel's hand.
As soon as he touches it, the entire room goes dark. Somewhere, something roars loud enough to shake the castle. He looks up, cursing low under his breath when he sees that the reason for the darkness is that the entire hole in the wall has been eclipsed by the shape of the shadowy stag. It's huge, though, this time, at least three times Castiel's height now with wicked, gleaming horns. Its green eyes are huge and flicker as though made of fire, and the gold apple looks tiny clutched in its mouth.
Castiel steps back, raising his sword. The stag growls, stalking into the room, head lowered in threat.
"Come on!" Castiel yells, swinging his sword to one side, then back. The stag's nose, he notices, is still marred from the first blow he struck, and he feels fiercely satisfied that he managed to wound the animal.
It growls again, stamping its forelegs against the ground hard enough that the castle shakes, and Castiel grits his teeth to stop them clacking together.
The deer rears back, kicking out, before it charges him. Castiel jumped to one side, running as the deer skids to a halt and collides fully against the altar Dean lays on. The golden cat flees with a sharp meow and the altar cracks from the blow, before the deer recovers and charges after Castiel again.
Castiel runs for the stairs, jumps to the side and grabs the rail to swing around and jab his sword into the deer's flank as it charges by. The deer shrieks, opening its mouth and dropping the golden apple. It lands with a solid, bright sound, like a penny dropping into a glass, and rolls away into the darkness.
The stag growls again, turning around and swinging its horns from side to side, but seems to have started ignoring Castiel in favor of finding its apple. Castiel uses the distraction to bolt back to Dean, black apple clutched firmly in his hand.
"Dean," he says, setting his sword down across the man's chest and brushing his hair back from his face. "I'm here, Dean. I'm gonna help you. Sam and I are gonna help you."
Dean, predictably, doesn't react, but somewhere the stag roars with rage.
Castiel grits his teeth, grabbing Dean's jaw and tries to work his mouth open, but it remains stubbornly closed, as though Dean is actively clenching his jaw instead of lax in sleep. Castiel growls in frustration, setting the apple down. He can hear the clatter of hooves rushing up onto him, so he grabs his sword and swings it around, catching the stag's neck. A horn skates up the inside of his arm, ripping the flesh open, and seats itself into his stomach hard enough that Castiel feels himself gasp. Even though he knows he's in a game, the blow feels almost too real, and he can see the warm gush of his blood and imagine that he's actually bleeding.
The deer groans, cut deeply from Castiel's sword, and Castiel grits his teeth and uses the proximity to haul his sword upwards and stab it deep between the deer's neck and its shoulder, straight into its heart.
The deer slumps down with a loud, wet growl, blood spilling from its mouth and into the apple still held by the stem. Castiel grits his teeth, breathing deeply, and shoves the animal away from him and onto the ground. He feels weak, shaken, and drops the sword with a hollow clang.
He runs a hand through his hair, feels it bloody and wet. "Fuck," he growls, wiping his hands over his face.
Behind him, the golden cat meows.
Castiel turns, and gasps at what he sees. The webs have melted away, revealing Dean clothed in simple-looking medieval garb, his chest still bare and hidden by the robe, but now there is a heavy golden crown resting on his head, and Castiel can see the wire running up into his arm and along his body – his life support system, Castiel realizes. It must be.
"Fuck," he says, swallowing hard. Now is definitely too late to question how a video game could possibly be tied to the consciousness of a real-life person.
The black apple still sits, untouched, by Dean's hand. He picks it up, frowning down at it. It looks…old, now. Moldy, like fruit gets when left out in the sun too long.
"What in the world -?" He stops, looking up at the cat as it meows again. It purrs, tail twitching lazily, and bares its teeth at him. Red teeth, red paws. The cat stands and turns around, walking over to Dean's arm where the wire comes out.
Castiel's eyes widen when he sees the entrance where the needle would fit in. It's bloody and raw, torn apart, and he watches and gasps when he sees the cat nuzzle against the wound and, very calmly, wrap its teeth around the wire and tug.
"No!" he yells, grabbing for the animal. It disintegrates under his touch, melting away as though it was never there, but then suddenly Dean starts shaking, his breathing uneven, his wildly-moving eyes still and locked. "No. Damn it, Dean, eat it!"
Dean's jaw opens easily to the gross, bruised black apple, and Castiel makes him bite down and rubs his throat until he swallows.
It isn't until the crystal starts to shatter that he realizes he's made a mistake.
He can't carry Dean – the man won't budge from his altar, but now he's not breathing at all. His skin is pale and white, his muscles decaying and melting away, his lips blue. He's dying, and Castiel doesn't know what to do about it.
He's dying. Castiel looks at the black apple, finds the inside red and raw, and throws it away in disgust, angry at being tricked. Of course the cat would trick him – it has just tried to rip Dean's life support out! "Fucking idiot," he murmurs.
The black stag hadn't been trying to kill him. It had simply been protecting Dean.
Hell, it might have been Dean.
As soon as the thought occurs to him, Castiel straightens. The corpse of the stag is still there, solid and black instead of melting away like its golden counterparts. Carefully, the crystal castle shaking and shattering around him, Castiel kneels down and picks up the golden apple, coated in fine red blood, and holds it up to the light.
Maybe…
Dean's jaw won't open again. He's locked into a seizure and won't wake up. Cursing, Castiel bites into the apple himself, chewing it rapidly, before he steps up to the altar again and has to pry Dean's teeth apart by fitting his fingers behind his molars. He leans down; pressing his lips against Dean's, and forces the golden apple into his mouth.
Dean abruptly stops shaking as Castiel pulls back, wiping his mouth, and he just has time to feel the floor give beneath his feet, and for Dean to open his bright, green eyes, before the screen goes black.
Castiel comes to coughing, feeling as though there's something slithering down his neck. Sam kneels down next to him and hits him on the back until his coughing goes away.
"I – I didn't know. I was wrong," he manages to croak out once the fit passes.
Sam's mouth is a thin line. Castiel knows what he's thinking.
He may have just killed Dean.
Sam's phone starts ringing, loud and clear in the room, making them both jump.
"It's the hospital," Sam says when he sees the number, his eyes wide. "Oh, no." His eyes are filling with tears, his breathing uneven as he runs his hands through his hair, then presses 'answer'. "Hello?"
Castiel can't hear what is happening on the other side, but he stands and starts taking off the equipment. If he's responsible for the death of this man's brother, he doesn't want to be around to hear about it. Nothing will reconcile that.
"Okay. Thank you." Sam hangs up and Castiel looks over to him, because that's not the voice of a man who just got told his brother is dead. "Dean – Dean woke up," he says, breathlessly, grinning. "Dean woke up."
Castiel blinks at him. "You should go to him," he says.
"Yes!" Sam starts, as though he'd forgotten how to move. Then, "You should come with me."
Castiel hesitates. "I don't think that's -."
"You should come with me," Sam repeats, more firmly. "Please, Cas."
Dean Winchester's hotel room is a flurry of activity when they arrive, but the nurses part like the red sea when Sam and Castiel come through. Dean looks weak, sick from being bedridden for so long. Castiel can tell that he used to be a large man, solid with muscle and tall, but he looks small and frail in the hospital bed, especially when Sam envelopes him in a hug so large that the doctor suggests he not be so rough with Dean.
"Dean," Sam says, his voice thick. "You're – you're fucking awake. Thank God. There's someone I want you to meet -."
But Dean is already looking at him. Castiel meets his eyes and sees the same brilliant green of that black stag, sees the mess of soft brown hair on his head, the dark smear of scruff on his face. Dean Winchester is beautiful.
Dean blinks at him, and then frowns.
"Hi," he says softly, his voice rough from disuse. "Don't I know you?"