A/N: A re-imagining of the 1985 film with a sprinkling of SPN cast members. Since it's an AU, some details may be slightly different. I hope you enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction using characters from the Supernatural universe. I do not claim any ownership. This work is solely for entertainment purposes and is not considered film or tv canon (not by a long shot).
Castiel often wondered why his life was so difficult. He was essentially a good man ... he certainly believed in God. He spoke to him on a daily basis as a matter of fact, keeping up a running dialogue as he went about his business. He felt that he was closer to God than most of the people around him. But in spite of all of this, he continued to find himself in less than desirable positions and it confused him. His current situation was an excellent example of that confusion.
"Possible ... possible," Castiel said firmly to himself. "Nothing is impossible."
As he talked to himself, Castiel pushed through the darkness. He ignored the smell that permeated his very pores. He fought back the waves of claustrophobia that threatened to overwhelm him as he twisted and contorted himself through the black.
"Come on, Castiel! Dig! Dig, Castiel, Dig!" Castiel urged himself forward.
Castiel could have wept with joy when one hand broke through the layers of muck and he could feel nothing but open air beyond.
The Bishop of Aquila, once known as Michael when he was but a lowly monk, gazed out across the nave of the cathedral when the loud crash of the gallows echoed within. He turned away, unconcerned. The strains of monks singing their praises to God filled the air but their voices could not dispel the chill that seemed to follow the Bishop to the altar. The boys in the Bishop's attendance shivered and crossed themselves.
The Captain of the Guard, a man named Crowley, watched the bodies dance at the end of their nooses for a moment before calling over his second-in-command, Luc. Luc is but a shortening of the man's true name – Lucifer. He is indeed a devil – vicious in a fight. The legend is that his mother recognized the demon within him and branded him with a name that would strike fear into everyone he met. With his cold blue eyes, Lucifer is definitely an asset to Crowley's plans for power.
"Luc ... " Crowley growled from his seat upon a large dapple gray mare.
Lucifer walked to his Captain's side. "Yes, sir?"
"Get the next three," Crowley ordered. He was feeling particularly uneasy today for some reason. He threw back another tankard of mead as he guided his mount away.
Castiel pressed his body harder against the layer of mud – and other things he did not want to thin about – that separated him from freedom. A large chunk fell away and he was able to push out his arm almost to the shoulder. Castiel vaguely wondered if the guards that kept the Bishop's dungeon had figured out where he had gone. The thought made him smile and offer thanks to God that he could all but twist his body into a knot.
Lucifer stalked into the dungeon. He was looking forward to ending the life of one particular individual from this hellhole. He walked up to the jailer.
"I want Castiel ," Luc said gruffly.
The jailer pointed at one of the many steel cages that made up the Bishop's dungeon. "This is his cell, sir."
Opening the gate, Luc walked in and noted several ragged men but none of them were his intended prey.
"Wrong cell ... I want Castiel ... the one they call the 'angel'," Luc clarified angrily.
"Angel ... the angel ... no angel today ... he's run away!" One of the prisoners sing-songed. "To ease the pain .. he's ... down the drain!"
The man indicated a grate that had been moved from one of the drainage holes in the floor of the cells. Luc ran his hand in disbelief along one edge of the open hole. He slashed out at the singer with his sword.
"Where is he?" Lucifer yelled in fury.
The prisoner cowered. "I already told you, gentle lord!"
Luc angrily gestured at the singer. "Take him! And find Castiel or Captain Crowley will hang you in his place!" His men dragged the prisoner away, protesting and screaming. Luc stared at the hole and tried to process what he was seeing before him.
"Impossible ... no one could escape through that," Luc hissed.
The doors to the church clanged open and several of the Bishop's guards entered. Crowley entered and pointed to the bell ropes as he walked forward toward the altar. The Bishop regarded him impassively from where he stood. Crowley bowed to him just as his men began to pull on the ropes. The bells of Aquila sounded through the morning air. The Bishop's expression did not reveal the sudden blaze of fury rising within him.
Castiel's head emerged from the hole he had made. By twisting his torso like a corkscrew, he was able to get his other arm out of the hole. Now with the proper leverage, Castiel pushed his body forward into the open air – and abruptly, he was falling. With a loud yell, Castiel fell into stagnant water far below. He was immediately caught in the current and swept along . His speed was not too fast, so Castiel glanced around him, taking in the algae covered walls of the Aquila sewers. Roman architecture at its finest, Castiel mused, admiring the perfectly formed arches that made up the waterway.
Looking forward again, Castiel jerked back in horror. He scrambled to find some way out of the water. A nearby ledge created by fallen bricks gave him the escape he sought. Pulling himself onto the pile of stones, Castiel hugged the wall and watched a dark form floating towards him in the foul river.
"Lord," Castiel gasped. "Lord, I will never pick another pocket as long as I live ... I swear it!" Castiel shuddered in fear as the unknown creature came closer. "But ... and here's the problem, Lord - if you don't let me live, how will I prove my good faith to You? If you've heard me, this ledge will remain steady as a rock and that ... thing ... coming at me will not be what I think it is. Of course, if it is, there will be no hard feelings ... but I will be very disappointed."
The object spun in the current and revealed itself to be nothing more than the skull of some hapless bovine that had been washed into the sewers. Castiel chuckled.
"I don't believe it ..." He murmured.
The strains of a hymn drifted down to Castiel. He looked up, his black hair plastered to his head by water and muck. Bright blue eyes took on a hopeful cast as he listened and followed the music through the sewer.
"Apologies, my Lord ... I believe it! He waded through the waer until he reached an access shaft rose from the sewer to a grate above. Metal handholds had been pounded into the walls of the shaft and it was these that Castiel grabbed hold of eagerly. "I'm coming! It's Castiel, Lord! Castiel!"
Far from the walls and sewers of Aquila, a cloaked man on a night black stallion paused and listened to the warning bells pealing across the countryside. On one arm perched a beautiful hawk with golden-brown coloring over its feathers and fierce amber eyes. It flapped its tremendous wings in irritation. The man gazed at the white walled city. His hazel-green eyes were inscrutable.
Castiel grunted as he climbed the shaft to the grate overhead and continued his discourse with God. "You won't regret this Lord ... as you know, I am a wonderful person. I think I've done quite well with the existence You've granted me." He pressed his fingers through the gate and pushed upwards. The heavy metal lattice did not move. Castiel pushed again, struggling to get some sort of leverage. The monks singing swelled and filled the shaft with glorious echoes.
It was fortunate that they did so for at that time, Luc came strolling through the church nave scanning the crowd. He did not notice when he stepped on Castiel's fingers nor did he hear the man's shout as he fell the several feet down the shaft to the water below to land with a great splash.
Once underwater, Castiel noticed an opening that could not be seen above the surface. Grinning, he swam with the current until he came to another grate. At first his heart sank within him, but then he noticed that the grate was mostly rusted away on one side. He pulled his thin, limber frame through the hole and headed to the surface. He broke into the air with a tremendous gasp. He was outside the walls.
Crowley waited in the arcade surrounding the Bishop's private courtyard. As the Bishop walked toward him, Crowley said softly. "I have disturbing news, your Grace. One of the prisoners has escaped from the prison."
The Bishop looked sharply at Crowley before continuing to walk forward.
"No one ever escapes from the dungeons of Aquila, Crowley. The people of this city accept that as a historical fact." The Bishop said darkly.
Crowley nodded. "The responsibility is mine, Bishop."
"Yes indeed," The Bishop hissed.
"It would be a miracle if he manages to get through the sewers alive." Crowley offered.
The Bishop's eyes narrowed. "I believe in miracles, Crowley. It's part of my job." He looked steadily at Crowley.
Crowley pursed his lips. "At any rate, your Grace ... it is only one insignificant, petty theif."
"Great storms announce themselves with a simple breeze, Captain. And a single, random spark can ignite the fires of rebellion."
"If he's out there, your Grace, I shall find him."
"Indeed, Captain. Make sure that you do." The Bishop raised his ring before Crowley. The man brushed his lips over it before he left at a quick stride.
Shortly thereafter, Crowley faced his men from the back of his mount. "We ride north! The name of the man who finds Castiel will be brought to the personal attention of the Bishop ... as will the body of the man who lets him escape! Open the gates!" Crowley and his guards rode out into the surrounding countryside in a cloud of dust and thundering hooves.
While two of the guard sat alongside the waterway, Castiel swam quietly beneath them and with infinite care, reached up and slid one of the guard's dagger from its holster. Then, with the ease of long practice, he sliced through the cords holding the man's coin purse to his belt. He sank down into the water and swam quietly away.
"I know I promised, Lord ... never again. But I also know that you know what a weak-willed human I am."
Castiel pulled himself from the water and quickly hid as more mounted guards thundered past. He sighed and looked up from his hiding place. When he saw no other riders, he ran for the forest. Jogging down a leaf-strewn path, Castiel panted with the exertion of running so long. "Come on, Castiel. Keep going," he murmured to himself as he ran. "It's not much farther ... only 150 miles. Not far."
Later, staggering through snow-covered rocks beside the river farther north, Castiel hugged himself tightly. The cold was horrible and biting so he began to think of food he liked.
"A nice hot piece of cabbage ... like that woman made once ... " The air around Castiel erupted in wolf howls. The mournful sound chilled Castiel's heart. "Wolves ... please ... no wolves ... "
Castiel stumbled and another thought occured to him. "A joint of lamb! Wait ... where the hell am I? Hot lamb, hot lamb ... with sauce ... yes, and maybe some of that green stuff that old Bertram used to put on it ..."
Cold and not a little delirious, Castiel continued on his way quietly babbling.
The cloaked rider guided his mount toward sunset. He could hear the faint calling of the hawk and raised his arm. The creature lit on his glove gently. He smiled at the winged beast and it regarded him with eyes devoid of emotion. He rode on, following a trail that he was unsure would lead anywhere he wanted to go.
Castiel followed the chaotic path of a herd of goats into a small makeshift camp. While attentions were distracted, he moved swiftly through the camp, snagging clothes hanging out to dry on bushes and tree limbs. He slipped away just as quickly.
Dressed and warmer, Castiel ran down a dirt road toward another little hamlet. He did not see the rider on his black steed. The man's short, dark blonde hair captured the amber light of evening. The hawk flared its wings impatiently as they watched the slender thief run past.
"Definitely not the sharpest knife in the kitchen, is he?" The man muttered to the hawk.