Supernatural © Kripke, Singer

I'm taking a break from writing Saving Chaos, but I'm definitely planning on finishing it. Instead, I've been working on a few smaller projects like this one so I don't get bored by working on a single story. This particular one will probably have three to four parts to it, but there will probably be long periods between updates. Enjoy.

UPDATE: I rewrote this chapter some time ago and meant to re upload it. Sorry for the confusion. Section two is currently being written.


Oracle
Part One

It's raining the night he finds the Oracle. From his spot above the city he sees the glimmer among the glowing street lights and cars, a blue flash that illuminates the entire block. No one else notices it, but then, no mortals would with their simple, human eyes. Instead they see nothing and continue on with their business, moving with the flow of their lives, blind to any mystery happening around them.

There is a flicker, and in the matter of a simple thought, he vanishes and reappears in the city far below, escaping from the harsh wind and chill dampness of his place in the clouds. Not that the weather is any nuisance to him. He often enjoys the feeling of rain on his skin, and doesn't think to wipe away the wet drops trickling from his hair and into his eyes. The cold he couldn't feel even if he wished to.

He appears on a wet sidewalk, under a cloth overhang that is flapping gently in the blustery, autumn shower, the rain running off of it in steady streams. The street is mostly empty, save for very few cars parked along the edges. This area of the city is sleepy, and not many people venture here even on the best of days. The shops are small and the buildings are dingy, painted in dark greens and maroons that have faded over the years, their original charm gone with them. The particular store he stands before is dark and quiet. He scans the outside, worn and dull like the rest. The name is silly - all three words beginning with the letter M - and scrawled over the large, front window, in golden calligraphy.

He tilts his head at the appearance of the place, and ruffles his wings a bit, hearing them sing as droplets of water are flung from his steely feathers in glittering beads under the street lamps. His pale eyes skim the dusty shelf just inside of the window, and it's covered in small, odd looking nicknacks that only God-knows-who would be interested in. Glittering crystals, awkwardly shaped vials, statuettes and pendants of strange creatures, and sticks of incense. Like the shop name, it is certainly a place of minor magics and mysticisms.

As he peers through the window there is a flash before him. A gust of strange energy comes with it, and all six of his senses are clouded in blue. It's gone almost the moment it happens, but leaves behind a lingering tingle of magical proportions. Through the shop window he sees the color almost hang in the air before it shrinks into a small point, somewhere in the dark, and a certain thrill runs through him, making him shiver.

He's finally found what he's been looking for.

The shop sign is turned backwards in the window of the door, displaying the word "closed" in chipping paint and splintering wood. It's no concern of his, and in the matter of a simple thought, he's within the dark shop.

The inside is just as mystical as the shop front, brandished in sheets of purple velvet covered in strange objects. They created strange shadows in the low light, twisted and gnarled black shapes that climb the walls. The interior is dusty and humid, as though no widows have been open in ages. Normally he might take a moment to study some of the objects, but now his mind his distracted with the thought of coming across the object he's been searching for.

Glancing around he notices a heavy curtain hanging from the ceiling, covering a space in the wall, and moves to it silently. He lifts a gentle hand to the hem, and a voice breaks the silence in his mind, an old, crackly voice, mumbling with uncertainty. He stops, leaving his hand hanging in the air.

Just come in, will you, friend? I know you're here. I've been waiting for you.

A moment of hesitation, and he pulls back the curtain, revealing a small room with a large window, much like the one in the front of the shop. Curtains are drawn over most of it, leaving only a small sliver of silvery light that pools into the area, lighting the floor. A small table, too low to sit at with any chair, is in the center, surrounded by pillows. The walls are covered with shelves of books.

Come closer, friend. Please.

He looks to the table where a small, dark figure is crouched, and tilts his head in interest. He moves the few feet from the clothed doorway and slowly kneels on a cushion near the table, not taking his eyes from the figure. The silver beam of light streams between them, particles of dust illuminated, drifting about.

They sit in silence for a moment, and he can feel the person before him studying him before the figure leans forward, their face suddenly lit by the dim stream.

The old woman's skin is pale, but her eyes by far surpass the lightness of it. Her vision has been impaired by cataracts, and the milky blue that covers their true color is eery. A smile breaks across her face, revealing crooked, stained teeth. With a small, contented laugh, she speaks, her voice hoarse and wheezy. "Ah, welcome. You finally found it, I see. I feel you've been looking for it for quite some time. Followed it's energy right here, I bet, didn't you?"

He can tell that this woman is special, and it's apparent that her senses allow her to know things that most people would never be able to understand. Yet, while many others like her hold a distinct power from within, hers is different; concentrated, yet ambient. His curiosity heightens and he takes a small peek at her soul, seeing a bright form of wispy, white light. Yet beneath the surface there is something else, burning a white hot and far surpassing the warmth of a normal, human spirit.

"Your wings are beautiful."

He pulls his eyes from her essence and gazes with surprise up into her face. The woman is smiling brightly, seeing him just as he views her. "Yes," she croaks, "it's been a long time since I've met one of you, and even longer since I've been home. But don't think for a second that I can't see them anymore. I've not become dull like the rest of them." Her smile fades and she reaches tentatively into her pocket with a wrinkled, trembling hand. "Yes, it's been a long, long time since I've been home. Though, I think perhaps now would be a good time to return, don't you, Castiel?"

She pulls forth a small object that glows dimly in the low light, but it is enough to create blue reflections that dance along the walls. As she uncurls her fingers, the glow becomes slightly brighter, and the object is clearly in the form of a small, three sided pyramid. Curiously, he leans forward to look more closely.

It seems almost to be carved from liquid, perfectly clear and viscous. The blue light comes from within it, though he can't pinpoint exactly how or where. It simply glows and flickers, and Castiel feels as though he's staring into a deep pool of pure water, only to see moons and stars glimmering at the bottom.

"Do you miss it that much," he asks, speaking finally as he sits up. His rough voice is quite and timid, even in the silent room, and the light thumping of the rain on the window almost drowns him out. To his surprise, the old woman laughs. A hearty cackle that lights up her face.

"When you've lived as a mortal for a long as I have, you start to miss your wings. My body is old, and I cannot get around as I once could. My reason to stay on Earth has been gone for many years. I wish to return home." She sets the pyramid on the table and it continues to send dancing lights across the bookshelves and ceiling, illuminating the room.

Castiel gazes at the object and his wings tremble excitedly at it's presence. He can sense the energy from it enveloping the air around them. His feathers sing at the movement, their sharp edges almost vibrating. For a moment, he can't help but to reach out and touch the gleaming artifact, to gently brush the tip of the pyramid with his finger.

The blue light inside seems to ripple from where his skin meets the surface, and a low hum fills the air for a moment before it slowly disperses. As the angel pulls his hand away, an odd sensation tingles through his fingers. He brings the tips of them to his eyes, seeing a small, risen, red mark on his skin, yet it fades in seconds, healed by his grace. Glancing up to the woman in front of him, he notices her smiling, her sightless eyes focussed on his face.

"The energy doesn't get along well with others," she says hoarsely.

He tilts his head in confusion before dropping his gaze back to the artifact. "I don't understand," he states inquisitively, "how can I use it then?"

She leans forward, reaching for Castiel's hand resting on the table, covering it in her own, soft and wrinkled. When she speaks, her voice is low and serious, a dark tone enveloping her. "You must be sure you want to do this, Castiel. Once done, it can never be reversed."

Castiel lowers his eyes and scans the table quietly, before closing them tightly and inhaling deeply through his nose. "Yes," he whispers. "I'm certain. This is what I want."

"You're positive," she questions earnestly. "You have to be sure. You must understand everything you are giving up. It wont be like anything else you've experienced. Not a simple draining of the battery. Your grace can never be returned to you this way."

"I'm certain," Castiel replies, opening his eyes again and gazing up at her, his eyebrows narrowed slightly with determination. "It's worth it."

The old woman pulls her hand away from his and lays it in her lap. "I hope so, Castiel. If not, I only pray that you can find something that is."

Castiel leans forward a bit, his eyes softly flickering to the glowing pyramid in the center of the table. "May I take the Oracle for my own?"

A strange smile spreads across the old woman's face, and she shakes her head slightly. "The Oracle is not yours to take, Castiel, but It is mine to give."

The angel narrows his eyes again and it is his turn to shake his head. "I'm sorry, I don't understand what you mean."

"It seems you believe as I once believed. The pyramid holds much power, but it is not quite what it seems. It may only work for one person at a time, you see. I have already asked my question of it, and until I choose to give it to someone for my own reasons, then the pyramid will not work for anyone else. It is how the artifact avoids falling into unclean hands.

The angel feels his wings dip, and he lowers his eyes to the table once more. "I can't, ask then. It wouldn't be right when there's little I have to offer you."

"Oh, Castiel," she says gently, "I don't wish to carry this with me any longer." She reaches down and carefully picks up the pyramid, drawing it to her face. Her sightless eyes focus into the swirling light and carved liquid, and a morose look come upon her. "It reminds me only of who I sacrificed everything for. He is long gone now." She pulls her eyes from the pyramid and back to the man in front of her. " If there is anything you can offer me, it is that I wish to return home. Let me go home."

A feeling of empathy tugs in Castiel's chest, and he lets out a resigned sigh. The ache in her voice is more than enough to wish to help her. "It's not quite what it was any longer," he warns gently. "Things have changed."

"I'm well aware of the challenges you've faced, archangel." She narrows her eyes and leans forward a bit. "I am more than willing to face a moment of disappointment if it means I can have my wings back for an eternity." She grins the slightest bit, then. "Besides, I'm not exactly going back to how I was the way I left. I'll be but a guest, just like the rest." She pulls the pyramid close to her chest and closes her eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. "I have been waiting for one of you for a long time, and now that you have come, I wish to give you what you seek, if only you will make one small promise to me."

Castiel's eyes raise to meet hers again, and he lowers his eyebrows in mild confusion. "I will do what I can," he murmurs.

"No, Castiel," the old woman say sternly, her eyes opening once more. "You must promise me. Before I give you the pyramid, you must swear you will do what I ask."

The angel hesitates, unsure of if he should trust her words or her intentions. He lowers his eyes to his hands in his lap and thinks hard, his mind racing. When the old woman breaks into his train of thought, her voice is quiet and gentle, almost pleading.

"I promise you it will bring no harm to anyone, love. This will only effect me."

He lifts his head back up as a small wave of relief comes over him at her words. Anxiously, he eyes the pyramid in her hands, and for a moment, he reminds himself why it is he wishes to have it. A warm feeling comes over him. A peaceful calm that assures him of what he's doing. "I promise," he says in a low voice, "I'll do whatever you ask of me, as long as it's within reason of what you say."

She smiles then, a crooked grin that displays her rotted teeth, and she nods silently, a small tear slipping down her face. Slowly, she holds out the pyramid, uncurling her fingers from it and letting it sit flat in her palm. After a moment of hesitation, she speaks, her voice a barely audible whisper. "Then, Castiel, may the gift I've been given, be given to you."

The pyramid flashes brightly, blue clouds all of Castiel's senses, and a low hum fills the air, getting louder and louder until he can hear the window rattling in it's frame. He leans back, away from the object as it expels a wave of energy that makes the angel's joints tingle.

The humming is gone seconds after it begins, and the light diminishes almost instantly. Bewildered, Castiel scans the room before his eyes land on the old woman, still at the table. Her hand is lifted slightly into the air, and her sightless eyes are fixed on something in front of her. With a sharp intake of breath, Castiel sees it as well.

In between them, hovering silently a few feet above the ground, is the pyramid. Rotating in the air, it glows now with a more profound blue, and the lights that reflect through the liquid and onto the bookshelves are brighter than before.

Hesitantly, the angel reaches out to the object, expecting the burning sensation upon touching it again. Yet when his skin comes in contact with the surface, a soft, coolness meets him instead. The carved liquid flashes again, though not nearly as bright as a moment ago, and Castiel is suddenly urged to touch the object again. To hold it in his hand and feel the weight of it in his palm. Slowly, he reaches out and lifts the pyramid from the air.

He's surprised to find that it's almost weightless, and for a moment he wonders if he really picked it up at all. Deep from the dark center of the crystal clear liquid, a low hum escapes, and a cloud of blue light swirls through the inside. Both fade and are gone again, only a moment later, and the angel lets out a deep breath. "Thank you, sister."

The old woman smiles quietly. "It is yours now, Castiel. Will you keep your promise?"

He lifts his eyes from the object in his hand and nods silently.

Slowly, and with some effort, the old woman stands, using the table to help her stay balanced, and bats away Castiel's hand as he reaches to help her, grunting stubbornly. When she's steady, she lets out a breath and moves her pale eyes to his, studying him, looking him up and down as if seeing him for the first time. "If my vessel had been nearly as good looking as yours, maybe I wouldn't be the mess I am now," she says with a husky chuckle.

Putting the pyramid in the pocket of his overcoat, Castiel speaks to her softly, "Please, tell me what it is you wish me to do, sister. I am sorry to say I am in a bit of a hurry."

"It's very simple, my friend," she croaks out. "As I said, I have been on this earth for quite some time now. I wish to go home. All I ask is for you to help me."

The angel stops short and leans back slightly, gazing at her intently. "I'm not sure how I can do that."

"Yes you are, Castiel," she replies quietly. "Please don't break your promise to me."

He feels his heart drop in his chest, and a sinking feeling comes over him. "I don't think I can keep it. It's against everything I stand for, everything I've been-"

"I thought you were leaving that all behind anyway." The interruption is impatient and irate. "Castiel, don't think that if you don't keep this promise I won't find I way to return myself. If I am to go, please let it be by the hand of one of my kin."

His head drops and he squeezes his eyes closed. "Alright," he chokes out before lifting his face back up. "I'll do it."

The old woman smiles again and nods once. "Thank you. Thank you dearly." She steps closer to him, moving right up to his vessel. "There's nothing I wish to do before hand, and nothing that needs taking care of. Please, just leave me here among the books." She rests her hands at her sides, and her head lowers.

Castiel looks upon her morosely, hesitating a moment before gently lifting his hands to her shoulders. Almost silently, he whispers out a string of words in Enochian, and a white light appears in the palms of both his hands. In the depths of her soul, he can see the white heat of an angel's spirit as it bursts with energy, and for a moment, he closes his eyes as he whispers to her. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

A small smile, and another husky laugh. "And I you."

Castiel pulls his hands away from her shoulders, and the soul inside of her bursts from her body in wispy tendrils of white light, stretching and curling into the air before the ends of them break away from her shoulders like strings. The room is lit intensely in every corner for the few moments that the wispy light hovers in the room before it seems to silently rise up through the ceiling, leaving the room dark once again.

The woman's body sways a moment, before falling limply, and Castiel reaches out to catch her in his arms. Slowly, he lets her down on the cushions and pillows that surround the small table, laying her softly on her side. Her eyes are closed, and her face is peaceful, the hint of a small grin on her lips.

Castiel swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, collecting himself. When he reopens them, he gently brushes a hand over her hair, moving silvery strands out of her face before murmuring quietly. "Rest well, sister."

The old woman doesn't reply, and her body remains still. The angel lets out a shaky breath and lowers his head dejectedly. Something in his chest aches at the act he just committed, but he knows it couldn't be helped. He reminds himself that though it was the only time, it was for a just reason. He'd kept his promise and set her free.

"Father," he murmurs into his sleeve, "Forgive me."

In the matter of a simple thought, Castiel is in the front of the shop again, quietly lifting the lock to the front door, and turning the wooden sign to say "open."

A moment later, he's thousands of miles away, sitting atop a familiar building in an American city. He's high above any other building in the area, and here the weather is warm and dry. The sun is dipping below the horizon, and a certain calm takes over him. Here, he should be able to think.

He gazes down at the pyramid in his hand, momentarily becoming lost in the swirling, blue light, before returning to his thoughts of before. Here he is with every opportunity in the world. Any question to be answered. But Castiel already knows what he wants. Not power - he's had enough of it in the past, and it never worked out well for him. Not knowledge - he already has more than any human on Earth. The Oracle could change anything for him, present or future, but the angel doesn't want to change Time either. He wants something small. Something simple that would change nothing for anyone but himself.

Ironic that it is the one thing that the Oracle cannot give him.

So instead, Castiel will use its power a different way, and he'll pray to his Father, that it work.

"You have to be sure. You must understand everything you are giving up. It wont be like anything else you've experienced. Not a simple draining of the battery. Your grace can never be returned to you."

"I'm certain. "Its worth it."

"I hope so, Castiel. If not, I only pray that you can find something that is."

Taking the pyramid in both of his hands, he closes his eyes tightly, bringing it to his lips. If what he knows of the object is right, he as one question or one request, and after a moment's consideration, he takes a breath, and whispers to the artifact wistfully.

"How do I become human?"


To be continued. Thank you for reading. Reviews are extremely appreciated.