Hi everyone!
What a finale am I right? Some of it was ridiculous, other scenes had me on the edge of my seat. There was lots of screaming involved I can tell you that much.
I just HAD to write something angsty to go with it because I guess you haven't suffered enough? Sorry.
Enjoy ^_^
"This is the end," Michael said softly, blood dripping from his vessel's eyes, "of everything."
The room was silent for a moment. The weight of what that meant was crushing; that Lucifer was out there, that he had Sam and Jack and Jack's power and not even Michael would be able to stop him. Castiel could only stand there and contemplate the scale of what they were facing, and the futility of trying to win.
"No." Dean muttered, in the tone of voice he always used when he was about to do something monumentally stupid. "What if – what if you had your sword?"
Castiel stiffened, looking up at the back of Dean's head in horror. "Dean." He said quietly, taking a half-step forward, as though that would make a difference. "No."
Dean ignored him, advancing on Michael, away from Castiel. "I am your sword, your perfect vessel." He stopped, facing down the archangel, his posture tense but determined. Cas could only look on, watching helplessly as everything he rebelled for came crashing down in slow motion. "With me, you'd be stronger than you've ever been."
"Oh, I know what you are." Michael said, a hungry look in his bleeding eyes.
"If we work together, can we beat Lucifer?" Dean asked.
Castiel heard the desperation, felt his all-too-human heart break at the sound.
"Dean-" he tried again a plea on his lips, not that he expected it to land, not with the fate of the world on the line, not with Sam on the line. He knew Dean too well for that. Still, he tried, for his own sake.
"Can we!?" Dean shouted over his protest and Castiel fell silent, feeling as though his insides had been replaced with lead, and as though he were a being that would feel the weight of it as the simile dictated. Michael cocked his head with a lazy smile and his expression told Castiel exactly two things: one, Michael was curious about the intensity and daring of this human; two, the archangel didn't care about this planet at all.
"We'd have a chance."
And there it was, all Dean needed to be sure that what he was about to do was the only way, the right thing. It was brave, it was selfless, it was admirable, and Castiel couldn't bear it.
"Dean," he growled through gritted teeth, starting forwards once more, as though his closeness would have any effect, as though he could make Dean understand, "you can't."
There was a bite to his words, because Dean could, of course he could. That was the flip side of the free will they had fought so hard to protect, they could choose their own destruction.
Dean rounded on him them, "Lucifer has Sam," he said, voice rising in volume with each word. Michael probably mistook that for anger but Castiel knew him better, knew that look in his eyes. Dean was scared and desperate, it was painful to witness, "he has Jack. Cas, I don't have a choice!"
There's always a choice, Castiel wanted to say, because that was what Dean had taught him. He wanted to say that he didn't care what reasons Dean had but that would be a lie, because he did care; his grace was twisting with worry for Jack and Sam and of course he wanted to save them as much as Dean did, but losing Dean felt like too high of a price to pay. Dean knew that already, his words were an acknowledgement of that, an expression of regret, a goodbye.
So Castiel said nothing, but he felt something inside of him die.
Dean's gaze lingered for a few, precious seconds before he turned back to Michael, "If we do this, it's a one-time deal. I'm in charge. You're the engine but I'm behind the wheel. Understand?"
Despite everything, Castiel couldn't help but feel pride, even as tears pricked his eyes as he watched the Righteous Man sign away his free will. Defiant to the last, Dean had to at least try to hold on to his agency. This choice that had been set out for him so long ago had come full circle but this time, Dean would say yes.
Michael's head tilted to the other side in a pretence of consideration and he gave a slight nod, that same greed still in his eyes. He was lying, they all knew he was lying but somehow, it didn't seem to matter. Dean would say yes, he would do it to save his brother, he would do it to save Jack, he would do it to save the world, and he would leave Castiel to watch as it all went wrong.
Castiel's shoulders sagged in defeat and he squeezed his eyes shut.
"Yes." Came the strained rumble of Dean's voice. Then, the pure white light of archangel grace flooded the room and Cas opened his eyes to watch, although Michael's celestial form hurt even his eyes. Michael circled Dean twice before diving into his mouth. Dean's eyes flamed blue with grace that didn't belong and Dean convulsed with the new power but managed to keep his feet. After a moment, the light dimmed and Dean turned to look at Castiel.
It was still Dean, Michael was there, of course, but in the background, lending Dean his power but holding back from taking control. Even so, Castiel would not let himself feel relieved. Either Michael thought that Dean's fighting skills stood a better chance of defeating Lucifer than his did, or he was going to wait until Lucifer was winning before he wrested control from the soul inhabiting his vessel.
"I could go with you." His voice splintered on the words, Michael was powerful, he could take Castiel with them and maybe, just maybe, it would be enough; and if not, then he would die shoulder to shoulder with the man he loved, there were worse fates.
Dean's lips tugged upwards, his eyes crinkling and Castiel was struck with such a bittersweet beauty and of all things he was grateful. He felt grateful for Dean to look at him in such a way.
"Not this time." Dean said gently.
Castiel felt sick with worry as he looked into Dean's eyes, memorising their shape, their shade, the lines around them that had grown more pronounced in the last few years, the ones Castiel wished he could say were from smiling.
Dean turned his head to look as Michael spread his wings, preparing to fly. He gave a huff that was half-awe, half-fear. The sound of someone resigned to a terrible fate for the most noble of reasons.
"Cas?" Dean said, glancing back at him with a look of such open tenderness that it took Castiel's breath from his lungs. "You too."
"You- What?" Castiel asked, reaching out with a hand for the hunter's shoulder, "Dean?" But Dean was gone and Castiel's hand passed through empty air. He let it fall and he forced himself to take a breath that he didn't need for comfort he didn't feel.
Michael, he prayed, for the first time in a very long time, it was the only thing he could think to do, not that he expected it to help, this Michael wasn't the brother he knew and even that Michael had been ruthless and unsympathetic, keep him safe. And let him come back to me. Please.
No answer came, of course.
He took a few moments to allow his emotions to overpower him, then he forced them down and spun on his heel to go and find Mary and Bobby to tell them what had happened. Then, he was going to find somewhere quiet and wait for Sam's call to tell him the bad news.
Xxx
Jack and Sam were alive, Lucifer was dead. Objectively, Castiel should be relieved, and he was, he was glad that Jack and Sam were safe, although Jack had lost the vast majority of his power. He was proud of them for finally ridding the world of Lucifer, but when Sam had stuttered out that Michael had taken over Dean, it overpowered everything else. Even knowing it had been coming, even feeling it as the constant tug of Dean's soul in the fabric of the cosmos had blinked out, even preparing himself to hear the words, Sam's broken voice had shattered whatever walls he'd been trying to build. He'd been sat on the stairs in the war room at the time. The place Dean had stood to comfort him about Gabriel and accepted Bobby's welcome into his family at possibly the first party the Winchesters had been to that hadn't involved a case of some sort. He'd been so proud of them, so happy to see their embarrassed pleasure at the recognition.
"Castiel?" Mary said.
He looked up to see Mary and Bobby exchange grim glances.
"Sam told me where they are." He said, in the monotone voice that used to be his, a long time ago. Back when 'doubt' was a filthy word and not a constant part of his existence, along with all of the other emotions that made humanity so intricate and so flawed. "It's a church, not far away. Topeka."
"Don't you wanna-"
"No." Castiel interjected, too sharply. He sighed and then continued, more softly, "I think they could both use you right now."
Mary's mouth twisted but she didn't press. "Alright." She said. "I'll be back soon."
Castiel nodded as she left, patting him on the shoulder as she did so.
Bobby made his way over to the fridge and pulled out two beers. He offered one to the angel.
"I saw you with a bottle at the welcome to the new world bash," he said gruffly when Castiel made no move to accept it, "I know you can drink."
"I can, but It won't help." Castiel said.
"It never does." Bobby replied, still holding out the bottle. Castiel hesitated a second more before taking it and twisting off the lid. Bobby did the same and took a long pull. "But sometimes you can kid yourself."
Castiel said nothing. He took a sip of the carbonated liquid and tasted all the ingredients and the atoms that made them up, the sugar and yeast and even the gas, but they didn't combine into the bitter flavour he had tasted as a human. It was a fitting metaphor he supposed, separate elements coming together to create something new but they didn't quite mix on his tongue, although what that could represent he wasn't quite sure. He took another swig.
"Can't face driving the car, huh?"
Castiel swallowed and looked down. "He never let me drive her." He admitted. "It wouldn't be right without his permission."
The impala had been a sacred space to Dean; every time he threw himself into the driver's seat, Castiel had noticed a reverence in the ritual of starting her up, a deeper breath to take in the smell of leather and oil, a quick ghosting of his hands over the wheel, the gentle nudge of the key in the ignition, it was a sort of prayer and Castiel felt privileged every time he got to witness it. Just the thought of assuming that seat felt blasphemous.
Bobby nodded.
"I've never seen an angel grieve before." He said. "I didn't think you could."
"I'm somewhat of a rebel."
Bobby scoffed, "No kidding."
He was quiet for another moment, then-
"I've never seen an angel in love before either."
Castiel glanced at the old hunter, a familiar face. Bobby had been his family once, and although this Bobby wasn't the same, he too had made Castiel feel like he was being harshly judged until he could prove his motivations. Castiel didn't blame the man's mistrust of angels, especially having met his own alternate self but he wasn't in the mood to patiently answer questions about his kind.
"It shouldn't be possible." He said shortly, taking another long drink from the bottle. He could use something stronger, where was the nearest liquor store? No, he had to be strong for when Sam and Jack returned, he had to take care of them, like Dean would have wanted.
"Somethin' tells me those boys are pretty well acquainted with the impossible."
Castiel huffed a breath. "Yes. I suppose they are."
"We'll find a way to get him back." Bobby said firmly, "Hell, we can't leave Michael out there to destroy this world like he did ours."
"I know." Castiel said, though he didn't. How could he face Michael when he had Dean's face, Dean's voice? How could he fight this version of his brother when he was wearing the man he loved? How could he hurt him without hurting Dean?
Bobby grunted and stood, placing his empty bottle on the map table. "Dean made the right choice," He offered, "you know, if that helps any."
"It was hardly a choice." Castiel muttered. "He wouldn't have been able to live with himself if he'd done anything else."
"Ain't that always the way?" Bobby said.
Castiel pushed himself to his feet. He appreciated Bobby's attempts at comfort but hearing about the inevitability of Dean's choice was more than he could endure. He left with a curt nod, leaving his bottle where he had placed it on the stairs.
Xxx
He found himself outside Dean's room, of course. He even considered knocking before he opened the door, which was ridiculous. He closed it behind him and looked around. It was neat, the bed was made military-style with barely a wrinkle on the sheets, but it wasn't the empty box that Castiel's was; weapons were displayed on hooks on the walls though some of them were missing, probably in the trunk of the impala; the stack of vinyl sat next to the record player which had pride of place on the desk, but there were other things that made the room Dean's; the corners of photographs sticking out of a box that peeked out from under the bed, the sparse bookshelf that held only the books that truly captured Dean's interest, not like Sam who over the years had relocated what seemed to be half the library to his room. It smelled like him too, that unique, earthy, human tang that was at once comforting and painful. Castiel ran his fingers along the desk, feeling the smooth grain of the wood and the few specks of dust that had settled since the last time Dean had dusted.
It was meticulously clean; odd really that Sam was the messy one, far more likely to leave dirty dishes in the sink or half-heartedly make a few passes with the vacuum when he was so particular about the state of his clothes.
Dean's own laundry basket was on the brink of overflowing, stuffed full of crumpled flannels and damp shirts that he had soaked first to get the worst of the bloodstains out. Castiel's lips tugged upwards in a joyless smile as he thought of Dean grumbling over the sink as he scrubbed at one of his favourite plaid shirts.
Castiel wasn't really sure why he was here. Being in Dean's room served no purpose, it certainly wasn't making him feel better, closer to Dean perhaps but not pleasantly so. Surrounded by Dean's things and Dean's clothes and Dean's scent only sent pangs through his chest, each one a reminder that Dean was gone. Nonetheless, he sat on the bed, even painful reminders were better than the memories of blue-white grace blocking out the green of Dean's eyes, of feeling the moment Michael had overtaken Dean, the background longing that framed his existence falling silent at last, the beacon of his soul drowned out by the sense of archangelic power.
He sat there for a long time, staring at nothing while his mind turned over Dean's final words, replaying them on a loop so that the words themselves dissolved into meaningless snatches of sound.
"You too."
Castiel hadn't needed to ask what Dean had meant, he'd known immediately. It had been pure shock that sought clarification, disbelief and a tremendous sense of unfairness that Dean was choosing to tell him now. Now, while Castiel was in the process of losing him, when they had no time. But now Dean was gone. Even if they found a way to forcibly expel an archangel from their true vessel it would probably destroy Dean in the process. Michael would not let Dean Winchester go without a fight and with Jack losing his powers, he didn't see how they could even begin to plan a strategy against him. Bobby was right though, they couldn't leave Michael to reduce the world to ash and they had an archangel blade now, which Castiel had a horrible feeling he would have to wield.
A soft knock broke through his reverie and Castiel wiped his eyes before looking up at the door.
"Come in." He said, though the words felt wrong in his mouth; this wasn't his room, to invite people in or dismiss them. Suddenly he felt like an intruder and he hastily stood as Sam cracked open the door and slipped through.
"It's dark in here." Sam said, snapping on the light. Castiel didn't react, his own eyes only registered the slightest of changes.
"Is it?" He said tonelessly, "I didn't notice."
"Right." Sam said. Perching awkwardly on the desk chair as though he too felt unwelcome in this room without the inviting warmth of Dean's presence to make them comfortable.
"Where's Jack?" Castiel asked suddenly, guilt surging through him that he hadn't thought to ask immediately.
"He's with Mom," Sam told him, "he could use a healing though, if you're up to it. I'm pretty sure Lucifer broke his nose."
"Of course." Castiel said, although he made no move for the door. He noticed that Sam's face was also blotchy with purple and yellow bruises. "You're hurt too, here." He reached forward and placed his fingers to Sam's forehead, sending healing grace through him. Sam sighed and shifted in his seat as he was able to move more comfortably.
"Thanks, Cas." He said.
Castiel grunted. Noting Sam's far-away look, absent of the joy that should be present after such a victory but still relieved that his tormentor was finally dead. Castiel couldn't blame him, he too was glad that Lucifer was no longer around to cause trouble, but the hole that Dean had left behind absorbed all of the happiness that they would ordinarily be feeling. He felt a surge of anger at that.
"I can't believe it all came back to this." He said bitterly. "The prophecy has been fulfilled, Lucifer is dead, Michael has his sword and the world will end." He took a shaky breath, "And Dean will have to watch as everything he fought for is destroyed. So much for free will."
"We'll find a way to fix this." Sam said, as though if he said it firmly enough, it would have to be true.
"Fix it?" Castiel threw his head back in mirthless laughter, his rage rising even further, unconsciously sending pulses of static out to the room at large and making the weak bulbs flicker. He wasn't angry at Sam though, he was angry at his Father for abandoning them, he was angry at Michael for breaking his deal, he was angry at Lucifer for never learning from his mistakes, he was angry at Dean for waiting until the last possible second to confess what they could have been, he was angry at the universe that created the circumstances that led to this moment but mostly, Castiel was angry at himself, because he had let himself forget that this had always been inevitable. "It's written in scripture. Our choices didn't change a damn thing. I fell to prevent this, I lost my wings, my siblings, my connection to Heaven because I didn't want this to happen, because I believed that I could defy destiny to keep him safe and I was wrong! There is no fixing this. It's over."
"No." Sam said, shaking his head as he stood to tower over the angel, "That's not true, you know that's not true. Our choices matter. Jack could have chosen to join Lucifer but he didn't and that matters, Cas. You think that choice wouldn't have made a difference? I know you're hurting right now, but don't you dare use that as an excuse to throw away everything that Dean fought for!"
"WHAT WAS THE POINT!?" Castiel roared, grabbing the chair Sam had just vacated with one hand and flinging it into the wall where it shattered with a crash. Sam flinched and backed away a step but Cas barely noticed, the chair had been good but it wasn't enough, not nearly enough to quell this tempest inside of him. "NINE YEARS!" he kicked out at the bed and it flipped over, toppling the stack of vinyl, the sheets cascading from it in a waterfall of fabric. "I GAVE UP EVERYTHING!" He snatched up the headboard and snapped it in two, then again and again until his hands held only splinters. "WE FOUGHT AND WE BLED AND WE DIED FOR THIS? SO THAT I COULD LOSE HIM TO MICHAEL?!" The bulb overhead exploded and Castiel spun and slammed his fist into the brick of the wall, cracking it, brick dust coating his knuckles and Castiel sank to his knees, the anger draining away, replaced with a yawning void of pain. "I can't lose him like this." He whimpered, "Not like this."
"He's not dead, Cas." Sam said, his voice shaking as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "There's still a chance."
"No." Castiel said. "There isn't." He stared at his hand; it was covered in dust and wood chips but there was no pain, no blood, His grace separated him from that human experience. He closed it into a fist and opened it again. He wondered how it would have felt to lace Dean's fingers with his own, to use that physical connection to pull him closer, to lean up and kiss him but he would never know. "He told me, Sam." He whispered, "He told me that he loved me too. He never would've- he knows he's not coming back from this."
"Cas," Sam said, dropping down next to him to put an arm around his shoulder, "I'm sorry."
Castiel turned his head to look at Sam's face, it was pale and drawn with worry. So much for being strong for him and Jack. Dean would be ashamed of him; trashing his room, screaming at Sam, not acknowledging that Sam had lost his brother, a loss that he could see was tearing at him as much as it was Castiel.
"No." Castiel said, rising to stand again, and helping the younger Winchester up too. "I'm sorry. I should go and heal Jack. I'll clean this up later, for if he comes back."
"When." Sam emphasised with a small, determined smile.
"When." Castiel echoed as he left the room. When he was alone in the corridor he straightened his spine and donned the mask of the soldier. He resolved to follow Sam in his quest. Whatever it took, he would protect what remained of his family, he had to protect them. He couldn't fail Dean in this too.
So there it is. I had a whole speech planned for Sam to give about what exactly 'the point' had been but it doesn't seem to fit anywhere and I'm not sure Cas is in the frame of mind to accept it in this fic.
Feedback in all of its forms is always welcome and deeply appreciated.
Love Tibbins xx