Holy crap, it has been way too long for this sequel and for that I deeply apologize. You see, I more or less had this thing called deployment to take care of. But now everything's better. Thanks for being so patient! This chapter is written so differently from what I'm used to and I rather like what I've got going. This story is going to be great fun not to mention much longer.
Special thanks to Ziggymia123! I couldn't have gotten this off the ground without you!
Without further adieu, sent to you from overseas, the sequel to The Best Defense, The Best Lies!
Oh, and I do not own Supernatural. If I did, episode one of season seven would have gone differently.
The Best Lies
Chapter One
After the End
There were screams on the edge of her nightmare, pouring from the flames as the billowing black smoke did. It was only in a small moment when her senses fully returned to her that she realized they were hers. Her mind drifted back and forth from the excruciating pain in her body to the horrendous images before her. Disturbing, shapeless forms that cackled with glee as they carved into her flesh. She welcomed the fire with open arms when they left, embracing it as a friend for in the end its pain could never amount to theirs.
She had given up calling for help. No one could save her here. She was destined to suffer this fate alone. Unfortunately she was never truly alone. Always she would hear them, even when they were not around to torture her. Their voices drifted over the abyss, taunting and teasing her. They spoke of home and of her family and friends and of what they were going to do to them when they got out. Images of all she loved burning and dying swept through her mind, destroying any sanctuary she may have had.
They were coming again. Their voices always grew louder right before a session of torture. They never seemed to do anything different and yet it always felt worse. The pain would never render her unconscious. It was impossible here. Sleep did not exist anymore. There was only pain.
Their leader approached her. He called himself Thatch. It was not his blade that she feared the most, it was his voice. The things he spoke of, the capability he had of clawing into her mind pained her every fiber. His images were the most vivid; his stories the darkest. He would often promise to take her with him, if only so she could see everyone die with her helpless to save them.
He ran the blade along the side of her neck, the steel of it the coldest thing there, so cold it burned as well. Right before he started, he said the same thing as before, his voice hinting at a smile.
"You are no longer in Heaven, Castiel," he paused, making a small incision into her shoulder. "Your God cannot save you." And then he plunged the blade into her chest, marking the beginning of it all. Her scream threatened to tear her body to shreds as it escaped her with such ferocious power and yet it was overpowered by the sound of their laughter as they all took part in destroying her body once again.
Mitchell O'Neal, having been woken from his sister's bloodcurdling cries, found Chelsea barricaded in the bathroom. She was pale, shaking and covered in sweat, so much so that her clothes were no longer dry. The mirror was broken and a piece of it was on the floor next to her, covered in her blood. It had been used to slice open her left wrist, which still bled profusely on her lap.
He rushed inside and quickly used a towel to help stop the bleeding. She began to cry into his shoulder, holding onto him for dear life.
"I can't…the pain…the voices…they're everywhere."
"Sssh, Chelsea, it's going to be okay."
"No it's not…no it's not."
The door to the bathroom slowly slid shut, revealing several sigils drawn in her blood.
2 days later…
It had been three days since Castiel had last seen Chelsea, three too many as far as he was concerned. As overjoyed as he was to go back home, it was not quite the same. Aside from the obvious changes such as avoiding the Apocalypse and throwing Michael into Hell with Lucifer, there was just something off about Heaven. His brothers and sisters, all of whom he still cared for dearly, did not feel the same or rather he did not feel the same toward them. Certainly he had been the one to change. After all he had practically become human while the other angels continued on with their orders. And that was where the difference came. Castiel knew what to do with his freedom, so to speak. The others did not and teaching them was frustrating to say the least.
He found himself thinking of his human companions often, Chelsea most of course. Castiel wished to see her sooner but he had to be careful. What he was attempting, no, what he was doing went against everything, not that he was a stranger to the realm of disobedience but to fall again now would have repercussions he could not fathom.
Chelsea was sitting on the front porch steps when he arrived. She appeared to be dressed comfortably, her hair unkempt but somehow falling in the right spots. She seemed tense somehow which put Castiel on edge.
"Hello," he said quietly, standing a few feet from her. Chelsea jumped slightly but was smiling when she turned to face him, unlike the Winchesters who preferred to yell at him for his sudden appearances.
"Hey there," she replied, beckoning him to sit by her. Castiel did, keeping focus on her face. She looked as tired as she sounded. There were dark circles under her eyes and the whites of them were more or less red. The entire time they were trying to avoid the Apocalypse she had not looked this worn down. Of course, he was not going to say that to her. No, Dean had told him not to be so straightforward with things. Women did not like that.
"Are you…sleeping okay?"
Chelsea looked at him strangely a moment but then seemed to understand and sighed. "That obvious, huh?"
Castiel thought he may have offended her somehow and worked quickly to fix it. "No…not at all."
Chelsea laughed softly. Normally Castiel rather enjoyed the sound, even a tired one such as this but right now it just made him think he had done something very stupid.
"It's okay. I know I look terrible." She went to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, revealing her bandaged wrist. Castiel grabbed it gently before she could hide it again.
"What happened?"
Chelsea took her wrist back, holding it in her other hand. "Nothing…I just…cut myself on some glass the other day." She turned away and began to stare off into the distance. Castiel did not believe her, not for one moment. He stood then and moved to kneel in front of her, placing both hands on her face and forcing her to look at him. Her eyes turned away, too afraid to look him dead in the eye. He could see the sheer terror behind them and the pain.
"Tell me the truth," he said as gently as possible.
She looked down. "It wasn't exactly a lie." She was quiet for a long time after that but her body was visibly shaking. Castiel wanted to know what could have done this to her, what did do this to her if only so he could kill it.
"I saw it, Cas," she started, speaking very slowly. "I saw Hell."
Castiel froze. For one brief moment he could feel the pain reverberating throughout his body but he pushed it away. It was behind him, gone forever as far as he was concerned. Right now his only focus should be on the woman in front of him. He felt his anger surge as tears lined her eyes. She should have never witnessed what she had. It was the reason why he made the deal in the first place.
He stood suddenly, facing away from her, ashamed. "This is my doing."
"Cas, you could have never known this would happen."
"But it's still my fault, is it not?" He looked up to the sky, searching for answers that he never received. After everything he had done, could he not be given one thing? He gave all and asked for little in return and yet was given nothing. Would God ever answer his pleas?
He heard her step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. It was light and gentle but felt like a leaded weight, slowly crushing him beneath his guilt. Why did he do this to himself? Why did he do it to her?
"Lucifer is back in Hell. The Apocalypse is over. The world is safe. Let's try not to think about this, Cas, please. Let's try to find some happiness in it." She rested her cheek on his shoulder. The warmth was comforting in a way. However the doubt he sensed in her voice caused him to ignore it. She seemed to be searching for a way to believe her own statement. Strange how they who should have been happy, since they were the only ones who knew what could have been, were instead miserable creatures, tormented more in the time of peace than war.
He moved away from her, despite every ounce of his being saying he should do otherwise. "Perhaps I should go."
"Castiel." It was the first time she had called him that directly. He turned to face her, only to discover how much closer she had gotten. Her hazel eyes looked up at him, on the verge of begging. Something inside of him seemed to fall apart. "Please don't."
Commanded by some unseen force, he stepped forward, leaning down so that their foreheads were touching. Her breath was cool and sweet against his skin, her touch soft. Slowly he could feel his burdens chip away, making him so light he felt that he could float. Only she could have given him such a load; only she could take it away so easily. He did not understand it. Part of him did not want to. He willingly relinquished into her hold.
He wrapped his arms around her small frame, it somehow felt right, and stayed there, content to stand like that with her for all eternity. These emotions that ran through him were exhilarating and terrifying all at once. How he had lived before then was a mystery. Things felt so much clearer now and yet more distorted. If only his brothers and sisters could see.
"How does this work?" she whispered.
"I don't know," he replied. "It may not."
She responded by moving closer to him. When he felt her lips touch his, he immediately gave in. Castiel could not describe the sensation of a kiss, only that since he had done it the first time, he had wanted to again. It was strange how quickly he had given himself wholly to her and her to him. He wondered if it truly would last or if it was only an act of rebellion on their parts, a side effect of what he had done to her. The longer the kiss lasted, the less the thoughts appeared. For now, she was erasing them from his mind.
"The angel's back!"
Castiel stepped back quickly, startled by the young voice that came from behind her. At that, Chelsea began to laugh then she turned around and scooped up the little black haired girl jumping by her legs. Resting the girl on her hip, she looked at him with a familiar gleam in her eyes. He, however, held none. Instead he looked at her, slightly terrified truth be told.
Chelsea laughed again. "Cas, this is Trinity. She's my niece, Mitchell's daughter." The two looked so alike, he would have thought that Trinity was her sister…or daughter.
"Hi Cas." Trinity waved, suddenly appearing shy. "You saved Auntie Chelsea. Thank you." She hugged her close. Chelsea responded by kissing her playfully all over her face, causing the girl to giggle.
"Why don't you go in the backyard and we'll catch up?"
"Okay!" Trinity said as she was put down. The last Castiel saw was a blur of pink heading for the side of the house. Chelsea turned back, her smile slightly smaller but still there. She began to shake her head at him.
"She's six years old, Cas. No one is ever going to believe her."
Castiel relaxed a little. "How does she know?"
Chelsea bit her lip. "She more or less saw your disappearing act the other day. Her room happens to be just above the doorway."
He looked up at the window and then back down at Chelsea. "Oh."
She began to follow her niece. Castiel stayed. It was not his place. He was certainly not a member of a family, not this one. Right now he was risking her and them. She had no idea what was coming but he did. Not all in Heaven were satisfied with how the Apocalypse ended.
Chelsea stopped and turned back. "Are you going to come with?" She held out her hand to him. It was all she needed to do. In an instant every apprehension disappeared. Everything that told him not to was muted. He could not think rationally anymore. It was dangerous but right now he was laughing in the face of it as he took hold of Chelsea's hand and walked with her toward their future, whatever it may be.
New Orleans, Louisiana
Brad Schaeffer was not a man to believe in karma. He had grown up never facing the consequences of his actions. His life was so sheltered. Money got rid of everything but when he went too far with his secretary one night, he realized that everything had a consequence and the day had come that he could not simply get rid of it. Chelsea O'Neal had showed him that.
And now she was dead.
He took another shot and tossed the empty glass next to several others on the floor. Brad had no idea how long he had been drinking. It did not matter. The only thing that had mattered to him was gone and worse, he had practically tossed her aside like some worthless object before it happened. Now there would be no forgiveness, no love. She had died hating him and he would have to live with that for the rest of his life.
He glanced at the pistol on the armrest next to him.
At least it would not be much longer.
As he put the barrel against his right temple, he looked at the picture across from him on the bookshelf. It was of him and Chelsea on vacation. They looked so happy there on the beach. It was right before he proposed. She was the only one he had wanted. Why had he done that? She probably took on extra hours to distract herself from it all. Maybe she would still be alive if he had not been so stupid.
He was sweating and the gun was shaking. None of it mattered now. He was going to fix it now. He was going to see her again.
Click.
Brad took a deep breath and then he got sick on the floor. He had forgotten the safety. Maybe it was a sign. A little too late in his opinion. He could have used a sign a few months ago.
Making sure the safety was off this time, he replaced the barrel to his head. The trigger was halfway back when it happened.
Something took control of him. That was as simple as he could put it. His body convulsed as though he were going through a seizure and a burning sensation ran the course of his body. He could still see but suddenly all of his movement was out of control. He watched the pistol place itself back down on the armrest and a smile come over his face.
"Now, Brad, there's no need for that."
Now, I'm not one to beg but...please please please review! I could use to boost! Love ya for reading! See you next time!
