While waiting for season seven to continue, I was re-watching my favorite episodes and after "The End", I wondered how it would go on after Dean died, so I just picked up a pen...and this is, what came out of it.
I'm still mourning him, so I made Cas the main character^^
Have fun reading!
Yours, KandyKitten
Warnings: character death, mentions of abuse and torture, absolutely no fluff!
Discl.: I neither own Supernatural, nor the mentioned songs.
Today was the day. Today, Dean would kill the devil.
The plan was easy: They would sneak around the back and Dean would go in trough the front and shoot "the biggest friggin' thing this world has ever seen".
They were already positioned at the back door: A small group of men in army uniforms in the front, Jerry pressed against the wall at the right side of the door, Risa at the left with Castiel close behind her.
They were more than ready to bust in and start to shoot; save what was left of the world and then celebrate.
Well, all but Castiel. He was high most of the time, but he wasn't stupid and he had lived a very, very long time. He had no illusions about what would happen today. He knew this was a trap. He'd known from the second Dean had pulled out the Colt. They were only bait, cannon-fodder and there was no chance that one of them would survive the next ten minutes.
It hurt a lot. He and Dean..they had been close. Friends. They used to trust each other, to like each other and now Dean was ready to kill him without batting an eyelash, thinking that Castiel didn't know the real plan.
He would never say that it wasn't like Dean to misuse his trust like that. Four or five years ago, yes, but after Bobby...after Sam...
Dean was broken and so was he.
In fact, Castiel didn't even care weather he lived or died, not really.
He wished he could say that he hadn't killed himself yet because of his trust in Dean, but that would have been a lie. In fact, he had not killed himself because he hadn't been able to bare the thought that everything he had gone through (losing his home, his family, his wings, most of his grace and finally himself, it hurt all the time and he was oh-so-sick of it,) would had been in vain if he'd just leave the stage.
Well, maybe he did care. Truth was: He was even glad to die in this battle.
The devil – his brother – had destroyed everything and he was sick of seeing that, because even when Lucifer was dead..he would have a dead brother and a world full of Croats. But now, that was going to be okay, because Dean would kill the devil and he would not see it, because he would be dead then; died for a good cause.
Jerry and Risa looked at each other and smiled. They were exited. They were happy to save the world after fighting for so many years, even if there was not much left to save.
Risa then turned and smiled at Castiel and he made his lips twitch into a goofy, befuddled grin for her sake. He had enough grace left to feel her excitement and fright pulsing off her like heat and he hated it.
They lifted their heavy machine-guns, glanced at each other one last time..and then one of the army-guys darted forward and kicked the door open.
In the split second before the man's sole hit the door, Castiel asked himself weather the others had come to the same realizations as he had. Did they know that they were about to die?
Then the second passed, the door flew open and the uniformed raced in, closely followed by Jerry, Risa and the fallen angel. The army guys (Cas had either never learned their names or already forgotten them, it was hard to tell these days) moved to ran up the stairs, covering the first and second floor. He, Jerry and Risa stayed in the hall. They fanned out carefully, slowly, because it seemed to be empty but he could feel the presence of something evil pounding in this building. There had to be demons - and many of them – lurking in the shadows.
It stayed silent for forty, maybe fifty seconds, than weapons started shooting. Seconds later somebody started to yell and Cas didn't know weather the others knew it or not, but the screaming voices belonged to their people.
It was the end. Dean had led them into a trap and it would be over soon and deep inside he got calm, even content. He would fire, when the demons came, just to prove his point, and then...
He followed them when they eased forward towards the middle of the room. This time, there was no music, no merry Pop- or blazing Rock song to underline their heroic sacrifice, no clinking their beer cans and flasks before starting to fire like they usually did on their hunts. The only sounds were the rattle of the guns and dying screams of men, who realized that there was no hope for them.
They maybe would have done it, if they had known that this would be the last time ever.
It was sad, but still, he kept his mouth shut and moved to get closer again when suddenly a strong arm was wrapped around him, pressing his arms to his body and a gigantic hand – great enough to cover almost half of his face – clamped down over his mouth. He froze, not even thinking about fighting because he recognized him, the body, the small tinge of smell that was still left (musk, gun oil, leather, cheap shampoo) and, of course, the feel of grace (bright, full of hate and pride and love, painful destructing love), the brightest, most beautiful he had ever seen.
Lucifer.
He had known. They had failed.
His gun, this thing that he hated fiercely because it showed how much of a human he was now, grew hot in his grip and he released it, not caring what happened to it. It wouldn't work against Lucifer anyways.
The clinking of metal against stone startled the others, they spun around and then Risa froze and Jerry staggered two steps backwards. His and the woman's eyes met and he could read in them what he already knew: They had failed and they were dead and the world would burn.
"You!", Risa breathed and Castiel could feel Sam's chest moving against his back when he chuckled.
"Are you really surprised? You should have known that you simple humans could never fool me. And maybe, deep inside..you knew, didn't you?"
Demons, they were coming from everywhere. Out of the shadows, down the stairway, through the door. They formed a loose, wide circle around them. Risa begun to cry. No loud sobs, just silent tears staining her paled cheeks with some kind of dignity. Still, she lifted her gun and fired a shot at the nearest demon, a male who looked about twenty.
"You don't know when to stop. Humans, really. Beyond all measure and always thirsty for blood..." Lucifer shook his head, looking almost sad. "I was right, all this time. And maybe, Father realized that now, don't you think?"
He hesitated for a second and as could feel his grace blazing behind him, then his brother murmured: "What about you, Castiel? There's still enough grace left in you to feel it, right? How this female wishes for a fight even now?"
Cas made no sound. He just waited, waited for the strike to come, the pain, and then...sweet nothingness.
"You two!" Lucifer leaned over Castiel's shoulder, until Sam's chapped lips were only an inch away from his ear-shell. He flinched away when he felt Lucifer's breath hit his skin: It was icy, almost unbearable cold. And then he whispered: "I think I will keep this one for a while."
Castiel didn't understand this. Risa's eyes widened in something that was a mixture between shock and a little bit of pity. She did not expect do survive, but at least, she would suffer no longer.
And then Lucifer released him, pulled him around and pushed him into the all too waiting claws of the two demons who had left formation.
He still didn't understand. He was shaking, but he didn't fight when the demon's hands grabbed him.
"Don't harm him. Bring him downstairs." Then he looked at the humans again. His voice, witch had been slightly chiding, a little mocking until now, suddenly was cold and merciless. "Kill the others."
And just like that, it was decided. Cas's and Risa's eyes met for a last time and he could see and feel her fear and desperation and then he was being dragged away. And then he understood. He ripped his gaze away from the cluster of demons standing there, where his comrades had been seconds before and stared at his older brother.
"Wait...Lucifer..no...No, you cant mean that..no, don't, DON'T DO THAT; NO; GET YOUR FINGERS OFF OF ME..."
He started to scream when they reached the door leading downwards, but he didn't scream loud enough.
He still heard them die.
Lucifer himself did not stay to watch the humans die.
He opened his wings and shifted his body outside to finally face the man again who had done both: Made his victory possible and robbed him of his match against his brother.
He was a little surprised to see him in two versions, but then he saw Zachariah's fingerprints and he understood what was happening. An interesting idea. He never liked this self-righteous seraph, but, at least, he had some creativity. This desperate act even amused him a little.
Well, that gave him a chance to talk some sense into Dean – the past version – but first things first.
Today's Dean had to be punished for his stubbornness. For taking the chance of seeing and fighting and beating Michael away from him.
Dean's death seemed to be over in a second, but Lucifer was, just like his poor, younger brother Gabriel, who had died by his hand ages ago, a specialist when it came to time-manipulation.
In the heartbeat it took to snap the human's fragile neck, Lucifer showed him everything that was happening and about to happen.
Dean saw his people dying, being ripped apart, bones breaking and flesh ripping when Hellhounds fed on them.
He saw Jerry wincing, gurgling when he drowned on the blood filling his lungs, pieced by his own, crushed ribs. His eyes stared upwards and they were filled with pain and fear.
He saw Risa, scratches all over her chest and stomach, deep bites took out of one arm, things that looked human except for their fangs and claws sitting over her. She screamed all the time and she didn't stop trying to when one of the things used it's claws to rip her throat open.
He saw Croats together witch demons. They were climbing the fences of their camp. He saw the women being dragged out of Castiel's lair, some of them dead, some screaming, some crying. He saw them gathering around Chuck, torturing him, playing with him, before finally ending it.
He saw Cas, his guardian angel, tied to a iron tripod in a place that looked like hell, minus the flames: the place he would be locked in until he died, desperately struggling against his bonds, crying and screaming and pleading for his release, for his death, sometimes in English, sometimes in Enochian, sometimes in a language he didn't know.
"You could have prevented that. All this suffering was unnecessary. You just should have said 'yes'! The world would have been saved. You and your brother would have been free. But now, your friends are going to die. Your prophet ripped apart, for the demon's fun. Your angel locked forever, as the devil's trophy. All of this..because you were too pride!"
Dean didn't know weather those were his thoughts or the devil talking. But when his last thought came, he knew that those words were his own.
"I should have called Sam."
And then it was over.
Camp Chitaqua, the last shelter for the humans in the whole middle USA, fell one month after that day.
And then, Castiel was the last survivor of this little revolutionary group.
Since that fatal day, he had been locked away in a pocket-dimension Lucifer had created only for him. He was standing upright, his spine pressed against the middle prong of an great, iron tripod. His arms were pulled behind the outer prongs, so that his elbows and underarms were pressed against the backsides of the two prongs, his hands held slightly higher then his head. Strong ropes wrapped cruelly tight around his wrists, elbows, waist and crossed ankles held him in his mocking, perverted cross-position.
Mostly, he only saw darkness. Sometimes, Lucifer visited him and then he could see his bright, still beautiful grace lighting up the place: raw, reddish stone and cliffs, in a circle around him.
And sometimes. Lucifer would let him See.
He didn't know how he did it. He could never move from his position,could always see his bindings, but around him..it was always the place Lucifer wanted him to see. And it was perfect. He could even feel, hear and smell his fake surroundings.
Castiel, Angel of Thursday, became the silent witness of the final destruction.
Cas fought against his ties, until blood run down his forearms and burn marks covered his waist when Lucifer Showed him for the first time.
Lucifer had waited four weeks. Then, there had been enough Croats and demons to lay siege to Camp Chitaqua. They stood in front of the fences and waited, until the tanks showed up. Most of them were now steered by the women, the rest by the wounded. When they started to fire, the demons climbed the fences at the sides. Some of them were ripped apart beyond reparation, but many survived. Too many. They climbed the tanks and started to pull the drivers out.
The first song playing - "I Just Cant Get Enough", in a mock toast to their daily slaughters – had not ended when blood was covering the in– and outsides of those already dirty tanks and when the next song on their "Hunter's Playlist" started, the tanks stood still.
Some of the fighters were still alive and they were ripped apart when the Croats swarmed the camp. Those, who did not join the slaughter at the front line, followed the demons up the hill, towards the houses. None of them cared about driving a tank and the no demon would ever get into an iron room voluntarily, so they stayed where they were, speakers still blaring out their Sampler into the sunset and night, until the gas was used up and the engines stopped forever.
"Another One Bites The Dust" underlined the beautiful dusk and the march of the monsters up to the cabins and was soon drowned out by cries and screams. The screams had not stopped when the deep voices were replaced by a new song: "Let's Play", added on Risa's wish, sounded next, and it was also the song playing when the sun was completely set and the last woman's throat was ripped open before it ended.
Chuck's voice was the last one to be cut off, shortly after it ended.
When the sun rose again, the first few notes of "Do you Love Me?" rang, then the music stopped together with the roaring of the tank's engines.
The smell of blood hung in the air, mixed witch sweat and smoke and gun powder. It was the last thing reminding that there had been a living community when this night had begun.
When Lucifer left him to his own thoughts once again, Castiel was crying.
He wept for the world, drowning in endless horror and chaos; he wept for Dean, who had been his best friend, closer to him, then most of his brothers had been; he wept for Sam, whose soul would be locked here forever, within a body that had been his, consumed and burned by Lucifer; and he wept for himself, because he'd been the only one in this cursed group who had wanted to die and now he would be the only one to life.
One time, just once, Castiel was proud of himself.
Lucifer didn't understand humans and so he could not imagine how they could fight and Sam wasn't telling him anything – well, maybe he was too burned out to say anything. Somehow, Castiel thought, it would be better like that. Then Sam would not have to suffer anymore.
So, Lucifer came to him to question him about the last, big Camp fighting him, set in New York. He wanted to know about the size. The weapons. If they had better ones, if they were more dangerous.
Castiel knew that they had the demon-killing knife. Sam had given it to Ellen, before he went to say 'yes'. Also, they had stolen the arsenal of a military base. They had a fire engine, filled with holy water. They had road salt, truckloads of it. They had grenades and plastic explosives.
When Lucifer asked him, where the base was, he said: "I don't know."
Lucifer smiled at him and said: "I do. Be honest with me, I've been honest with you, too. How are they armed?"
And Castiel lied. For the first time in his life he told a bare-faced lie.
"Not better then we were. Maybe even worse."
Everyone died when the Second Roadhouse (at least, Dean called the camp Roadhouse, Cas didn't know how Ellen and Jo had named it, every method of communication had broken down three years ago) was overrun.
Ellen, Jo and everyone else vanished in a big, white-hot ball of fire, but they had been prepared.
They had set up booby traps filled with iron nails and salt at every place that looked as if it could burn. They had drenched the streets with gasoline. They had blessed the water in every tank in the city. And when the first bomb went up, the city went up with it. Everything and everyone littering the streets of New York was blown up in a violent blaze and except for the fifteen mightiest demons among them, everyone died. There were more then a thousand victims, croats and demons alike.
The fire would burn for month and nothing would grow there for a time that was even long to an angel.
But they had ripped a hole into Lucifer's rows.
When he heard about that disaster, Castiel felt a grim pride wash over him. Here I am, Dean, still swinging, when you gave up long ago. How's that?
His pride helped a little, but he would regret it soon.
Lucifer came to him and he was furious.
His grace burned with an intensity Castiel had never ever seen before. It was so bright with wrath that it hurt even his dulled eyes to look at it. But he did look and he was rewarded.
Sam's arm was burned ever so slightly and his sleeve was wet.
"I thought, we had agreed to be honest with each other." His voice shook the room and the two demons accompanying him jumped back in utter fright. Lucifer was ready to kill and Castiel was more than happy to accept.
So, the fallen angel did something else he'd never done before: He smirked. "Well, be honest. That's Ellen's doing on your arm?"
The remark was Dean-worthy. It was cheeky and blunt and uncalled for and he was not Dean. When Dean had spouted such impertinences, he had always gotten away with it; unharmed and feeling awesome.
He didn't get away.
It was the very first time that they released him from his ties. The first time since ten month. His legs were so weak that he fell when he tried to take a step. He stayed on the floor, looking calmly up to the demons. He knew that he would be punished now, those demons would torture him. He was frightened, but not too much. At least, they would kill him in the end, they always did, even when they didn't mean to.
It was a cold comfort, but it was comfort.
He was proven wrong.
Lucifer sent the demons away and did it himself and he took a lot of time with him.
Castiel had forgotten that this body was his own now, that he could not pull back from those nerves anymore. He had to stand the torture all by himself, suffering the pain inflicted on the body that once belonged to Jimmy Novak without any chance of getting away or easing it, because what used to be him had long ago melted almost completely with Jimmy.
When he lay on the floor after endless hours and felt blood running down his face, back and legs, Lucifer grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. Sam's soft face was a mask of cold anger now and the oh-so-familiar voice whispered: "I am disappointed. I have always been honest with you."
Castiel spit out some blood plastered on his tooth and tongue, constricting his throat. He felt pain and humiliation burning trough him, visible in the spark of grace that still sat within him, but then he said it nevertheless, or rather, croaked it out, his voice husky from screaming: "You promised to kill everyone fighting you."
Lucifer smiled and his hand stroked his cheek almost lovingly. "And when I'm fed up with you, I will kill you,too."
Hours later, Castiel was bound to the tripod again. His whole weight was resting on the bar under his armpits and on the rope around his waist and his eyes kept fluttering close.
It was then that he realized that Lucifer, the Morning Star himself, was wrong.
The archangel believed, that he could decide when Castiel would finally meet his end. The ultimate punishment. The ultimate torture.
But there was something that Lucifer didn't know, because something like that had never happened before.
He had proven that he could spent more than two years without food and water, but, basically, he was mortal!
He would survive for years, but in the end, he would die of dehydration and the Morning Star would not know what he could do against it.
And despite the pain pounding in his back, his mouth and throat, Castiel started to laugh.
After all humans in the big cities had been wiped out, Lucifer sent out a hand-full of his children to find the last remaining humans walking this earth. Then he called his armies to him and stormed Heaven.
The angles fought them, but Lucifer was unbeatable. He was stronger than all of them and he was fighting with a wrath no one had ever faced before.
And while the foot soldiers were dying and the demons were picking up their swords to kill, Castiel could hear them whisper.
It drove him mad. Listening to them without being able to answer was sheer torture and it made Cas lean against his ties until he bled, scream until his voice gave out and when he had used up all of his energy, he slumped, wishing for alcohol and drugs and his death.
And the, he would have no choice but to listen.
The high angels were asking themselves and each other if they had, maybe, just maybe, given up too early? Should they have listened, when The Righteous Man had screamed to Heaven, screamed yes, asked for the big fight to come?
Sometimes, when he heard them, Castiel wondered weather he had lost his mind. Deep, deep within him, he was sure that he had gone crazy a long time before. But he also knew, that he was not hallucinating. The voices of Heaven were real.
When Lucifer allowed him to See again, he knew that he'd been right.
Weeks after he had Seen a fight between angels and demons, Lucifer payed him another visit.
Castiel didn't know weather it was day or night anymore. He didn't even know how long he'd been hanging here; a trophy on a hunter's wall and pastime for a bored or angry devil.
This time, Lucifer was angry.
He was talking about the angels and about their father, the father who did not show up, not even when his favorite creation was wiped out and his children were dying, slaughtered one by one.
And then he understood.
Lucifer wished for their father to stop him. He had never wanted to kill all of his siblings. He had wished for their family to be together again. But the angels defied him and they fought him and he couldn't step back anymore..and that hurt him. And he was disappointed in every single member of this family.
He felt just like Castiel did when he had found out that God did not care for any of them anymore, that He had just left them to deal with everything for themselves. That He wasn't interested in His little toys anymore.
For the first time, Castiel felt the slightest bit of pity for his rejected, cast-out brother.
"God is gone, brother. He's gone, maybe He's in another world or another time. But He's not here anymore. And the other angels..If He was here to see how they behaved...they would all fall."
Lucifer nodded. Sam's formerly expressive brown eyes were filled with tears and, all of a sudden he looked so much like Sam again and that stung badly...and, at the same time, he looked like the brother Castiel remembered, the person he used to be before he was cast out, and suddenly, he felt like crying, too.
"Then, I guess, you are everything I have left." Lucifer's fingertips – Sam's fingertips, calloused from the constant fights – touched his cheek, wiped away one tear. For the first time, Lucifer seemed affectionate.
It didn't reduce Castiels dying wish. Not at all.
The two surviving archangels walked into one of Lucifer's ambushes. Rafael died fast, Michael put up a harder fight, but Lucifer had his destined vessel and the whole wrath of hell backing him up. Michael fell and the remaining angels fell into chaos with them.
The demons, who had been too weak to fight even the weakest angels were so hopped up now that they danced on the ways of Heaven. Lucifer stalked around in the Garden, slaughtering whatever came near. Hell rose and it had washed over the earth to consume Heaven.
The angels were panicking now and Castiel could hear them talking again. They were arguing and blaming each other: "..you said, we should give up.."; "..you brought this on.."; "..I said: let's wait awhile..."; and so on and so on. "Not better than humans, really!", as Lucifer had said once.
Sometimes he could hear his own name being said. Now, faced with their end, the angels realized that they had made a mistake and that he had been right all along. They agreed with him. For six years, he had been Heaven's Most Wanted, the Hated One, the Traitor, the Hunted, and now they agreed with him.
It could have been funny, if it hadn't been so sad.
Lucifer personally killed Zachariah and he allowed Castiel to See.
Before the seraph died, Lucifer thanked him. He thanked him for bringing on the end and for letting him bust out and Zachariah just spit out and called out for Castiel in a loud voice, ringing over the world, reaching even the smallest corners of Heaven and the darkest places in Hell and with that last call, he apologized and granted Castiel freedom from his sins and a place in Heaven.
Then Lucifer stabbed him. It was fast and almost painless, but the devil just couldn't resist: He allowed Zachariah a glance on Castiel, hanging in his bindings, slumped against the tripod and without the energy to be happy, angry or sad about Zachariah's confessing.
Now, after all this suffering and two and a half years spent standing in a pocket-dimension, watching the world die, Castiel had become how an angel should be – watching and cold.
The world was going under.
Now, that the humans were not there to care for them anymore, their lifeless machines broke. In the factories, wires caught on fire and soon after that, every big city in the world was burning. Ships fell victim to rust and a billion tons of oil and gasoline ran into the oceans. In the nuclear plants, reactors were melting and they contaminated whole countries, poison ran into the ground water.
The human race was not there to see it, but the Apocalypse had come over the world.
Plants went black, they died and they did not come to life again, fishes and whales drifted dead in oceans, seas and rivers, animals were born mutated and unable to life and those, who did life, staggered ill and blind over the surface of this now ugly and lifeless planet and died miserable deaths and the air was so poisonous now that dead birds and insects fell from the sky like rain.
And Lucifer, who had talked about saving the planet's beauty three years ago, didn't care about it anymore.
In his rabid madness, he had turned against his own children. The demons were running around in Hell and on Earth like startled hens and the last surviving angels cowered in the corners of the Heavenly Garden while Lucifer walked among them, murdering in endless hate and wrath.
In this time, Castiel (by now he was half-mad with thirst and he had almost asked Lucifer for water) was mostly by himself, hanging limply in his ties.
And while watching Lucifer slaughtering a bunch of minor demons, the irony that had driven Dean mad in the end finally dawned on him.
He...They...had fought to save humanity and now, he was the only thing close to a human left.
The angels had fought to bring paradise and they had gotten their own hell and, finally, death.
The demons had fought to be freed from hell, to life and now they were crushed like bugs.
They all had fought for something that they considered precious and right and they had only succeeded in bringing the end to those things. If none of them would have fought..or maybe even just one party...their end would not have come to pass.
They all had brought their own end to come to pass! And Lucifer was on his way, doing the same!
Lucifer..he had fought because of his hurt pride and his rejected love. He had fought for attention and for revenge and in the end, when he would have succeeded in killing all of his children and siblings, when there would be nothing left to love or to be loved, he would understand. Maybe he would even understand that there was no winner in this game.
They all had been fooled.
Castiel sucked in a deep breath of the poisonous air that would kill him soon, and, while Hell collapsed, Heaven burned and Earth drowned in poison, he let his head fall back against the middle prong and laughed and laughed and laughed, because, really, sometimes there is just nothing else left to do.
Well, I hope, anyone has read it this far.
I know, it ends pretty dark..but somehow, I liked it. The story seemed to write itself and I just went with it. I hope, you liked it despite my terrible grammar...
Thanks for reading!
KandyKitten