NOTE: This is very loosely based on the SYFY miniseries Alice.
WARNING: recreational drug use (Cas is endversey cause that's all I ever seem to write), dead characters and minor character death
OTHER TAGS: AU, afterlife, dystopian society, souls
CHARACTERS: Castiel, Dean, Alastair, Andy Gallagher, Azazel, Bobby Singer, Crowley, Eve, Gabriel, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Gordon Walker, Jessica Moore, John Winchester, Meg, Sam Winchester, Uriel, more characters to be added possibly
PAIRINGS: Castiel/Dean Winchester, (non-explicit) Castiel/Meg, (background) Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Splash.
Shit.
Okay, so in hindsight it was probably not a very good idea to have the looking glass so close to the edge of the walkway, portal side facing the thirty foot drop to the water. But the thing is so fucking heavy , and it's not like he was expecting someone to die in the ten minutes it takes him to walk from the Institute to his tea shop. Castiel has never been one to prepare for the worst. It's probably how he ended up here in the first place.
It's not his fault that everything in this God-forsaken place has to be so damn high (and not in the fun way) . No guard rails, just dangerous ledges and walkways. The perfect nightmare for an acrophobe. At least there are stairways down to the water in some places, one of which Castiel finds himself running down, hurrying to rescue whatever poor soul had been dumped out of the land of the living and into this purgatory of a city.
It's a man, and by the time Castiel has reached the narrow shore (he's lucky he fell where there is a shore) he's on dry land, doing a great impression of a drowned rat. An attractive drowned rat. Like, holy fuck attractive.
The man is shaking out his arms and legs, flailing and sending flecks of water off of his clothes. He runs a hand through his hair, making it spiky, and when he looks up and sees Castiel his face darkens.
"Where the hell am I? Who are you?"
"I... well..." This is hard for him. They're usually unconscious by now. Castiel touches the sedative gun in his pocket. This man looks strong, but Castiel is fast. The souls usually don't even get a word in before the hit the floor.
"I'm Castiel." As he gets closer to the man he sees that he has these forest-green eyes, which would be such a shame to waste away under closed eyelids for the rest of the man's existence. He lets go of the gun and takes his hand out of his pocket, extending it to the man.
"Dean," he says, gripping Castiel's hand in a firm hold. "Now where the fuck am I?"
Castiel is not good at shit like this. As much as he hates the way things are around here he follows orders. He pumps the souls full of sedatives and takes them to their rooms at the Institute. He doesn't do the talking. The only comfort he was trained to provide is toward the infants. And they remain blissfully unaware.
"What's the last thing you remember?"
Dean squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his forehead. "I was in a car. With Sammy. There was an oncoming truck, it swerved in front of us and–" His eyes fly open and widen comically. "Am I dead?"
"Yes," Castiel says simply. "I'm sorry."
The man looks panicked, which Castiel can understand completely. He was the same way.
"Is my brother here? Sam?"
Castiel shakes his head. "No one named Sam has come through recently." He sees some of the tension leave Dean's body, making him look like a puppet whose strings have just been cut.
"So I'm dead, is this–am I in Heaven?"
"There is no Heaven," Castiel tells him.
"Hell?"
"I wouldn't go that far."
"Purgatory?"
Castiel shrugs. "Not exactly. We just call it–" He's cut off them when sees it. Right around the soul's neck. A small, golden head with horns, hung by a black cord. The amulet.
Shit.
This is bad.
This is really fucking bad.
