Fractured Mirror
Chapter One: Broken
They broke him.
When the angels seized Castiel and dragged him to Heaven, he fought. He fought even as they strapped him down. Memories flooded his mind, memories of being bound before, of being 're-educated' before. The memories were agonizing, terrifying.
He didn't remember before they bound him, He understood why. They hadn't wanted him to remember his past disobedience, since it might encourage more. But now...now they wanted him to remember. Remember what they were going to do, the penance exacted for defiance. To remember every form of punishment he had ever suffered. Right down to the breaking and rewriting of his mind, the violation of his very essence.
They left him there to remember, and to dread what was coming.
And then they began on him. It was worse than he had feared, in the long hours of his waiting. They tore into him, gloating over every scream they dragged from his tortured throat, hammering away at him with false platitudes of how if he'd only obey, only follow orders, they wouldn't have to do this. Hammering and hammering at him, filling his ears with how worthless humans were, how miserable, how far beneath the least of the heavenly host they were. They subjected him to the worst experiences and excesses of humanity, and afterward, as he lay gasping in his bonds, they whispered to him questions of how such could be worth protecting, worth the punishment he endured.
He might have believed them, save for the voices. The voices of the Winchesters and his vessel, Jimmy, praying for his safety, and for his help.
His torturers felt his defiance, and redoubled their efforts, until the only things he could hear were his own screams and their taunts, until the only thing he could feel was agony upon agony, every inch of his being ripped and torn and flayed and broken, his mind and soul wracked and abused beyond all bearing.
And yet, even amidst his suffering, he thought of them. His charges, for whom he had defied Heaven.
He had no strength left to fight. He could not bear to surrender.
He broke.
Something shifted and shattered inside him, so deep in his core that his torturers could not touch it, so deep that, until it broke, even he had only felt the barest hint of it.
He was looking at himself, a mirror of his Grace reflecting a face that was his and not his. He was tortured, broken, suffering. His mirror image was strong and whole, stern and controlled.
He reached out one shaking, shattered hand and the other did the same. Their fingers touched, and he understood.
He was broken. But he was not destroyed.
He was an angel of the Lord, and he would give anything to protect his charge.
He was a Warrior of Heaven, and he would stop at nothing to fulfill his responsibility.
He ached with grief and fear for those in his care.
He burned with righteous wrath at those who dared to threaten his sacred charge.
He was confused, tormented by doubts and choices.
He saw his way forward, walking unhesitating down the road his nature, his essence, and the last commands of his Father had led him to.
His unbroken self reached down and touched his shoulder. It was not a gentle touch, but it was the stern comfort that was all a warrior could offer, and it was enough. "You must rest. I will do what must be done." The first acknowledgment that they were two.
"What do I call you?" They were both Castiel, but here and now, until they were healed, there must be some form of differentiation. "What will you call me?"
A moment of consideration. "I will call you Castiel." Fitting. Heaven had set out to break Castiel, and thus it was right that the one of them lying broken would carry the name. His other self stood. "I am...Cassiel."
One letter change. It was enough. And small enough that they would both still answer to 'Cas', as their charges had taken to calling them. The confusion would be minimal. "Very well."
They became simultaneously aware that the torture had stopped. Castiel was no longer being wrenched with pain, new wounds carved into his being. Cassiel could no longer feel the phantom echoes of his counterparts suffering.
They both knew what it meant. Their tormentors had registered their unconsciousness, and were waiting for Castiel's recovery. He would revive, they would search for signs that he had broken, that he was obedient once more. Demand that he tell them where his loyalties lay. Test his sincerity.
They could both hear the Winchesters and Jimmy praying. The Winchesters worried for him, and Jimmy was frantic about his family, and angry at what he perceived as betrayal.
Castiel looked at Cassiel and nodded. "Go. Do...whatever it takes." He hadn't the strength for what they both knew must be done. But Cassiel did.
Cassiel nodded, turned away and disappeared.
***FM***
Cassiel came to full consciousness. His being ached with the slowly healing wounds that had been inflicted upon him. He felt the bonds that held him, and for a brief moment, he considered breaking them and fighting for his freedom. It was tempting, but he was too good a strategist to think it would work. No, he knew what must be done. It would no doubt be troublesome, and likely upset Castiel, but there was no way around it. If he wished to survive to fight for the Winchesters, there was only one path.
He opened his eyes and met those of his torturer.
"Ah. Castiel." The voice was smooth, coaxing, but the concern in it was utterly false, like the voice of a serpent. "Had time to think things over?"
"Yes."
"And?" He was not oblivious to the subtle threat of the blade hovering just on the corner of his vision.
"I am a soldier of Heaven. I do not serve humanity." It was true. Save for few notable exceptions, he felt nothing for them. Dean Winchester was his charge, and Jimmy was his vessel, and he felt responsible for them, but not the rest of the world. Sam he cared for only in that Dean would give everything to defend him.
What empathy he might have had was Castiel's to bear.
"And Dean Winchester?"
"He is the Righteous Man, Michael's vessel. My responsibility."
"Do you serve him?"
"No." His job was to defend Dean from being killed or taken. Nothing more.
"Good. It seems the lesson has finally sunk in." The angel stepped back, blade disappearing. "Well, since that's the case..." A gesture, and the bonds, the implements of torture, all disappeared. Cassiel staggered free, keeping his face expressionless even as the movement jarred his still healing essence. "It seems your charge is in danger. I recommend you get to your duties. But remember your true purpose."
A thread of fury moved through him. He had heard Dean's prayers. He knew well that Dean would be in no danger if his superiors had not endangered the family of his vessel. And it was a cruel test, that after so much punishment they would send him back to Dean immediately. But he nodded, bowed, and obeyed.
***FM***
Cassiel dove to Earth, following the prayers of his dying vessel and the Righteous Man. Even as he hovered, invisible and unheard above, he heard the sounds of battle, the increasingly desperate calls. But he could spare no time for reassurance. There was too much else to focus on.
James Novak, Jimmy, was wounded, as was he. He could heal the human easily enough, but the time and energy it took to do that would erase the element of surprise that was his best advantage.
The daughter was compatible. And, if things went the way his vague memories of his vessel suggested they might, he could attend to more than one consideration at a time.
He touched Claire Novak's mind. 'Claire'
She startled. He continued before she could speak and betray his presence. 'I am...Castiel' The name was subtly wrong, given to the other half of himself, who lay broken and battered in his core. But it was a name she might know. 'I have returned to help. Will you permit me to use you as my vessel?'
'Can you save them? My parents?' She caught on quick, speaking silently with him.
'Yes. I will save them.' And the Winchesters.
'Yes.' Consent.
He poured himself into Claire Novak's body, wrapping Claire's soul in his Grace. It was a deep sharing, and the child's mind was far more flexible than the father's. He felt the instant she saw what he was, and what had been done to him, to both of him. A wave of sympathy and sadness, and then she surrendered to him, to the oblivion he offered. And then they were one, and he was fully housed in Claire Novak's body.
He snapped the bonds holding him to the fragile wooden chair with a thought, and wrenched himself upright. The movement distracted the demons, and it took only a moment to deal with them, except for the one Sam was holding down. He noted Sam drinking demon's blood, and the look of disgust and shock on Dean's face.
On one level, he was as disgusted as the eldest Winchester. On another level, he knew enough about being a soldier to understand the necessity of doing terrible things in battle. On still another level, he was aware that Sam's destiny was written, as was Dean's, and that if Hell hadn't corrupted him into drinking demon blood, someone in Heaven would have tried. Dean was meant to be the Righteous Man, his brother the Fallen.
On still another level, this buried nearly as deep as his broken other half, he wasn't sure that the Heaven that had tortured and broken him so deeply had any right to pass judgment. Or that a Host who couldn't see the darkness of angels like Uriel or worse, encouraged it, was in any position to say what was sullied and damned and what was not.
None of those, however, were his concern.
He destroyed the demons, saved Amelia Novak and the Winchesters, then went to the side of his dying vessel.
Within him, Castiel called out. He listened, then yielded to his other half. Castiel was right in what they owed Jimmy, and this was not his strength.
***FM***
Castiel knelt beside his vessel. Housed inside Claire, his wounds were healing, but the fracture to his identity was a raw thing, painful in it's own right. He put the pain aside, and reached out to touch Jimmy's face gently. "Thank you."
Jimmy looked at him. His hands were stained with blood from the wound in his torso, his eyes wide with pain as he bled out his life on the cold warehouse floor. Castiel gazed back, knowing the man could see the truth. Sure enough, Jimmy gasped out. "Castiel?"
He laid his hands on either side of the man's face, as gentle and comforting as he could be. "Of course we keep our promises. And of course you have our gratitude."
He was grateful to Jimmy. Jimmy had been a good vessel. He had used the man hard, and Jimmy had certainly been hurt by both his duties and his forceful removal. But Jimmy had gone to the Winchesters, and that had been good. And Jimmy had enabled him to fulfill his task of watching over Dean. And for all that he knew he had caused Jimmy a great deal of pain and fear and grief, the man had never hated him, save when his family had been endangered.
Jimmy coughed around blood in his throat. "Claire?"
"She's with me now. The choice is in her blood, as it was in yours."
"No." Jimmy raised his hand, gripping at the slim wrist of his daughter's form, eyes anguished. "No. Take me. Give her back, and take me."
Castiel was willing. More than willing. He had felt Claire's realization, and the child already knew too much of the brutality both Heaven and Hell could inflict. But he felt reluctant just the same. After all Jimmy had suffered...he spoke softly. "You must understand. You won't age, or die. If you thought this past year was painful, imagine a hundred, a thousand more like it." Though he hoped the apocalypse wouldn't last so long, he had no doubt that Jimmy would find his separation from his family painful enough. And Jimmy was no soldier. To be led into the final battle between Heaven and Hell, a helpless passenger, would no doubt be horrifying for him.
"I don't care. You give her back, and you take me." Jimmy's will was unwavering, even as his grip weakened and his body failed him. Even as fear shone in his eyes.
"As you wish." He would give Jimmy that, if that was what the man truly wanted.
Cassiel touched him, light as a feather. 'Castiel...this is an opportunity. You should rest with the child.'
'No...her father...'
'Will understand. As she does.'
Indeed, he felt Claire Novak stirring, felt Cassiel offer the youngster his request, his suggestion. And he felt Claire agree, her youthful compassion for both of them swirling about him in gentle waves.
To rest, away from the battle and away from what would be required of him, it was a tempting thought. He was healing, but though the wounds to his Grace were mostly gone, the wounds to his psyche were not. Far from it.
He touched Jimmy and pulled him into the link, letting the man feel what had become of him. He muted the experience of the torture, leaving only the revelation of it's end result. Jimmy responded with horror and grief, and with a wordless apology for his anger. Cassiel stretched forward, offered the man his petition, that Castiel might remain behind, safe within Claire Novak, a passive passenger. To this Castiel added his own promise that he would do nothing, unless Claire or Amelia was threatened.
Jimmy's consent mingled with Claire's.
Castiel let go, let himself fall away from his counterpart. There was a moment of disorientation, as he went from surrounding Claire to being welcomed by her, wrapped in her brightly shining, innocent soul. He brushed Cassiel in passing, a thank you and a plea to remember him, if he was needed, to which Cassiel responded with acceptance and agreement. Then Cassiel launched himself out of Claire Novak's body, flowing through the already established link into Jimmy Novak.
***FM***
It was the work of moments, and then it was done. Cassiel released himself to Jimmy, taking the man as his vessel once more. Jimmy surrendered willingly to him, his soul still roiling with his horror at what had become of them. And with contrition, that he had been so angry, that Castiel had been forced to listen to his anger and accusation, even as he endured such torment.
Cassiel soothed both, and nudged the man to resting within him. He had no need to hear Jimmy's contrition and guilt. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing for the man to be ashamed of. And there were more pressing matters to attend to.
He could still feel Castiel, residing within Claire Novak, a quiet spark. He used the link to shield his other self from detection, masking it behind a more general shield that would protect the Novaks from further demon assaults. Castiel sent him a pulse of gratitude, and he returned it with understanding, then turned his attention back to the realm of the physical.
It took less than two seconds to heal his vessel's body and restore it to pristine condition. Another second to verify that Amelia was no longer possessed, and that Claire's worst problem was a case of exhaustion, after being used as a vessel.
The Winchesters were watching him with wary shock as he rose to his feet. Dean looked concerned. Sam looked as if he half expected to be attacked. He looked them both in the eye for a moment. He could have spoken with them, but that was not what he was ordered to do, not at this time. He needed to report in. More importantly, he needed to make sure his superiors believed their 're-education' had taken root.
He walked past them, past Amelia, who was watching him with devastated eyes, clearly aware that he was once again not her husband.
Dean called out to him. "Cas?" He turned to find the elder Winchester watching him with a frown. "What were you gonna tell me?"
He had been planning to tell the man the truth about the apocalypse. About his destiny, his brother's, the final seal. But to do so now would show his hand, and that could not be afforded until he had no other choice.
Besides, it was strategically unsafe, and it wouldn't help at all in his primary goal to guard and guide Dean.
He answered instead with what he knew his superiors would want to hear. "I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean. I serve Heaven. I don't serve man, and I certainly don't serve you." He saw the shock of his words hit like blows, but he didn't wait for anything further. Before Dean could do or say anything else, he turned and walked away.
Author's Note: This idea just came out of nowhere. I was just re-watching, noticing how Cas goes through all these different moods and impulses, and this idea popped up and wouldn't go away.
Let me know what you think.