Hunting For Faith (And Love)
'Don't leave me.' he pleads, lacing his fingers with hers desperately. They're very slippery, but hot in their cold environment. It warms his freezing body.
Her smile is sad, just like the sky that's wailing. It's crying, as if mourning a lost love. He knows he is. 'My family calls me.' she replies, unmoving. 'I cannot stay any longer.'
'But this is your family!' he protests.
'It is,' she agrees, 'but first and foremost my duty is to my Father. No one else. I truly am sorry.'
His eyes water. They sting with the salt – both the metaphorical and the physical. It isn't like there wasn't water in his eyes earlier, but still. 'I'm sure you are. Will you be coming back?'
She averts her eyes. 'Probably not.' She says, and his heart clenches painfully. His eyes drop to the ground. 'There is little chance of my survival. I shall be going to Hell, I will be near Lucifer's cage with Alistair if I am lucky.'
He curls around her. Her chin is on his shoulder, and they both weep silently. After all that they had done, Fate still wants more and more from them – time and again. Instead of only him (albeit with her help) going, or them both. It's only her now, and they both knew it. What she has to do is much beyond his capabilities – he'll just be hindering her. She's all-powerful, he isn't. He's just a measly mortal, and she's immortal. She's witnessed the earth being created, humans being created. He's just a passing affair that she'll forget about in a couple of centuries. To her it will be like a blink of an eye. And he's afraid of that. What if she doesn't remember? What if she stops caring? She's a wavelength of celestial intent, honestly!
She smiles. 'I'll never forget you, I promise. You are the one thing dear to me – I shall be damned before I let go of you.'
'Immortals don't keep their promises.' He says, bitter.
'But angels do.' She counters, even though his reason is very valid.
She lets go of him. Her eyes are misty, and he's not sure if he wants to see an angel weep for him. It will be far too painful.
He wipes her tears away, gentle despite his calloused hands caused due to a lifetime of fighting. 'Shine bright like a diamond.' He says.
'Shine bright like a diamond.' She agrees, and at the same tells him to not fall into that pit of despair that's getting more tempting as the seconds pass.
As it's going to be the last time she's ever going to see him, she sings the song that they picked up by mistake in their last moments.
'Shine bright like a diamond,
Shine bright like a diamond.'
Her voice is crystal clear – just like you'd expect an angel's to be. It's a cheesy Rihanna song, but it's the most apt that represents them. He hums to the tune.
'Find light in the beautiful sea,
I choose to be happy.
You and I, you and I;
We're like diamonds in the sky.'
Were they? Probably. They had the same shine to them, and two peas in a pod isn't that romantic, so it's kind of true. They're at that high pedestal that their fellow people think they can't cross, and it's a final act of hubris before she goes home.
As much as she doesn't want to.
'You're a shooting star I see,
A vision of ecstasy.
When you hold me, I'm alive,
We're like diamonds in the sky.'
His lips quirk to the side. The truth of that statement is almost suffocating.
'I knew that we'd become one right away'
Did they?
'Oh, right away.
At first sight I left the energy of sun rays,
I saw the life inside your eyes.'
Hers are the brightest eyes he'd ever seen. And it is the same the other way around. Despite seeing many supernatural things, they are. Despite seeing the whole of earth being created, they are – despite all the graces, they are.
'So shine bright, tonight, you and I;
We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky
Eye to eye, so alive
We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky.'
And she continues it, her voice the sweetest melody he had ever heard. His head had long taken refuge in her lap, and she's moving her fingers through it. His eyes are closed.
'So shine bright, tonight, you and I;
We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky
Eye to eye, so alive
We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky.'
'So shine bright like a diamond.'
His eyes snap open as the song finishes, and bore straight into hers. He sits up straight, and she scoots closer. Their fingers intertwine again, and they stand up. They fit like a jigsaw puzzle – She's just tall enough to rest her chin on his shoulder, and he to chin her head.
It's unconscious – they share a few breaths, and their lips connect.
It's like a zing of energy. He finds himself electrified, and the desperation they are holding each other with doesn't help. It's a heartfelt kiss, one that says all the things they want to say to each other but never say. Both of them have thought they express everything clearly to the other. And they do. Better than any couple they have ever seen. They grew up together, fought together, lead together, amongst countless other things. They'll never be able to let go of the other. Not without hurting themselves in the process – so deep their love is.
It's a match made in Heaven, and truly God has willed it so. No two beings complement each other like they, and there never shall be.
They let go, and he hands her the tiny glass vial he's been carrying around ever since they found her grace reverently.
She takes it, and opens it. Light explodes everywhere, and he shields his eyes because he knows – he knows that if he looks upon her, his eyes will burn right out of his sockets.
She smiles. "A final gift, love," she says, placing her hands in his and a tiny bundle's in his arms as she lets go. His chest feels heavier, and she changes to blue-eyed boy with inky black hair right in front of him (or is it her?). Her (his) wings show for a moment; and they're beautifully black with dustings of blue, red, yellow and white – just like night sky. He (she) almost doesn't catch it.
She (he) flies with one strong flap of her (his) wings, and he (she) stares longingly.
The rest, my friends, is history.
- X -
"The angel blade won't work, because I'm not an angel any more. I'm your new god. You will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord, or I shall destroy you."
For a beat, there is complete silence. Sudden, stark fear churns nausea in Dean's gut, and it wars with his stubborn nature, which naturally riles against everything that's happened in the past couple of weeks. It was hard enough to accept that Cas had slipped between his fingers and into the untouchable void of Beyond Reaching that only Sam had ever occupied before, back in his blood-junkie-demon-banging days. Even then, Dean had never actually thought that Sam was 'Beyond Saving' – not the way his father would have meant it anyway. He can't accept that Cas has reached that place yet either; not while there's still breath in his lungs to protest with. Still, he can't bring himself to move. Frozen in stasis, petrified with horror at the sudden wave of grief that washes over him; he doesn't want to mourn Cas, as though he were destroyed by consuming all that power, but looking into Cas' ice-cold gaze, Dean sees nothing; no spark of warmth, sympathy or familiarity. Cas is just gone, and Dean chokes back a scream, the hairs on the back of his neck raised high, bellowing out a warning that he'd be incredibly foolish to ignore.
Of all the things Dean could think of right now, it was the Murphy's law of Winchester luck which clearly stated that if the absolutely worst possible thing could happen, then it would do so in spades and never in their favor. The universe really seemed to love bending Sam and him over the latest catastrophe and letting them have it. Dean just wished every once in a while that the 'powers that be'(whoever those bastards were) would deign to use a smattering of lube because this cluster fuck was one hell of a raw dog deal.
Death's wall of sanity in Sam's head was cracked wide open with all of hell bleeding through the cracks. Dean and Bobby were bruised, bleeding sore from Crowley's earlier attack and covered in ick that was all that was left of Raphael after the archangel had been exploded.
Bobby is the first to move, which is hardly surprising, as he isn't affected by the Winchester lack of self-preservation instinct gene which is so dominant in their family. He kneels, encouraging the brothers to do the same.
Castiel's eyes shine with the fervor of a madman, a demented smile twisting the corners of his mouth as he waits for Dean and Sam to get on their knees.
Over the last week, Dean has been torturing himself, imagining all the possible outcomes of the Purgatory situation. This is one he had never seen coming. His worse-case scenario hadn't even been seeing Cas explode and destroy the planet; it had been being forced to kill his best friend. Now, he stares at the creature wearing his friend's face and considers refusing to kneel and calling its bluff. But he can't let Sam die, so he swallows his pride and the defiance building inside him and starts to kneel. So does Sam.
"Stop." Cas says, before they can even get down to the floor, "What's the point if you don't mean it? You fear me; not love, not respect. Just fear."
Dean wants to scream. Well, what did you expect, you little dipshit?!
For a minute, Dean thought that Cas could still be in there, that this wasn't a power-crazed lunatic, just a very misguided, naive angel. He was trying to think of a way to get him to realize that when Sam spoke up.
"Cas . . ." begins Sam, always the bleeding heart, but Cas shuts him down like an ice cold motherfucker, and, God, Dean wants to bash Cas' face in so bad.
"Sam, you have nothing to say to me. You stabbed me in the back." He turns back to where Dean is half-crouched beside Bobby. "Get up."
They're all standing again when Dean says, "Cas, come on, this isn't you."
Beady blue eyes tell him another story.
"The Castiel you knew is gone."
"So, what then?" Dean asks, wanting to know just how royally screwed they are. "Kill us?" He doesn't want to believe it. That the Cas who was pleading with him only a few days ago to stand behind him, who agreed that they were family, should have changed so radically in so short a space of time. Cas gives him a deep, soul-searching look, even going as far to tilt his head like that endearingly confused angel he used to be.
"What a brave little ant you are." Cas says, sounding exactly like every other freak Dean has ganked over the years, "You know you're powerless, you wouldn't dare move against me again. That would be pointless, wouldn't it? So I have no need to kill you. Not now."
The relief Dean felt was short-lived, because Castiel's next words cause an unexpected burst of pain, "Besides . . . once you were my favorite pets before you turned and bit me."
"Who are you?" Dean spits out angrily. Castiel looks at him calmly, smiling, and says, "I'm God."
'He's lost it', is the first thing that runs through Dean's mind at that statement. Castiel continues in a serene tone that belies his words, "And if you stay in your place, you may live in my kingdom. If you rise up, I will strike you down." Dean can only stare in disbelief at his once-best friend.
"Not doing so well, are you Sam?" Castiel casually says as Sam staggers and almost falls to the ground.
"I'm fine" Sam replies, defiant. Dean curses himself for not noticing his brother's haggard face and the obvious pain he is in.
"You said you would fix him - you promised!" Dean's voice holds a mixture of anger and pleading.
"If you stood down, which you hardly did" Castiel retorts, "Be thankful for my mercy. I could have cast you back into the pit."
Dean tries to keep the anger out of his voice and outright pleads, "Cas, come on, this is nuts! You can turn this around, please!"
Castiel's face is stony, his voice cold, "I hope for your sake this is the last you see of me."
In desperation, Dean grabs Castiel's sleeve. Losing Cas is already hard enough, if he loses Sam too, he isn't sure he would have the will to live. "Please," he says, "don't leave him like this."
Castiel looks at Dean's hand, then at Dean with confusion and anger. "You're stupider and braver than I thought, it seems," he muses. He grabs Dean hard enough that Dean winces in pain. "How dare you disrespect me like this? After I allowed you to live?"
- X -
"We need to find Cas' weakness!" Dean insists.
"What if we can't?" Sam drags a weary hand across his equally weary face. He has dark bags under his eyes that look almost purple. Dean, on the other hand, looks even worse than his brother, but somehow is fuelled by pure adrenaline.
"If ya two chuckleheads keep arguing, it ain't gonna get us anywhere!" Bobby says from his desk in the Panic Room. "Shut up, and read!"
A while passes, and Sam breaks the silence. "Got it!" he exclaims, triumphant.
"What?" Dean peers curiously.
"It's a very uncommon lore, but there's this version of events where God is a 'she', and 'her' consort is Death. Kinda like paradoxes – the law of attraction, you know? So if Cas is really God . . ."
"Sam, shut up."
"He might have his consort waiting for him, somewhere." Sam finishes
"Oh no ya don't." Bobby threatens. "This 'consort' of Cas' gonna be one hella SOB. Don't charge in guns blazing without checking!"
"Idjit." Bobby adds, unable to resist.
"Dude." Dean frowns at his little brother. "Assuming God does have a 'consort', as you put it, Cas ain't God – He's an ex-angel gone rogue, bonkers, whatever you want to call it. Period."
"But what if he does? If Cas really is the 'New' God, he could have one, right?" Sam smirks. "I have a feeling it's gonna be the Righteous Man of them all. The one Cas shares a 'profound bond' with."
"Hey!" Dean squawks. "I ain't Cas' bitch, Sammy! We're just friends, that's all."
"Yeah right," Sam shoots back, "The constant sex-eyes is disgusting. And the personal space abuse – such a helpful indicator, isn't it?"
"Shut your cakehole, bitch. I am not Cas' freaking consort, you hear me? We were friends, ain't that right Bobby?" Dean asks.
Bobby looks like he's contemplating it.
"Bobby." Dean says with a note of anger.
Bobby sighs. "It's plausible enough, Dean. He's told ya every damn secret he's ever had, so it ain't that farfetched."
Dean lets out a breath of exasperation. "If only it would be that simple." He says. "It's someone else, I know it."
"I'm outta here." Bobby declares, sensing the oncoming debate, slapping the book he was reading. "Ya two chuckleheads can keep arguin'. I'm goin' out for a food run." And he leaves.
"And how, exactly, do you know that?" Sam asks, smirking slyly, once Bobby isn't in sight.
"I just know, alright?" Dean snaps.
Sam's eyebrow creeps higher.
"Fine!" Dean concedes. "But if 'Godstiel', or whatever they're calling Cas these days, comes to know about this – the blame's on you. Cas told me once, that he remembered a girl with bright eyes and a kid looks like her son."
"I should have known." An ice cold voice cuts through the air. Dean's whole body freezes.
- X -
"Silena!" She chases the two year old, a smile on her face. "Momma's tired now; can we stop playing 'tag' now?"
Silena giggles. She smiles softly at the toddler. "But I don't wanna!" the girl says, her eyes the exact replica of her mother's. "It's fun!"
"Grandma's going to make cookies." She offers.
"Are they colored?" The girl asks. At her nod, Silena squeals, clapping her hands. "Yay! Grandmommy's making cookies! I wanna have some!"
She ruffles the little girl's hair, making Silena squeak. "Stop it, mommy. That tickles!"
"That's why I do it." She replies, grabbing Silena's hand. "C'mon. Grandma's in, and yum . . ." She almost drools. "I can smell it from here!"
"Come on! Momma, you're so slow!" Silena whines, tugging her along into their home. Mom's out, waving at them to come in. She concedes, but utters a 'This isn't over' to Silena. The pigtailed girl giggles.
They live in a quaint little cottage that is decorated with vines and flowers, giving it a homey feel. It is made with peach-colored wood; dry grass serving as a roof. But looks are deceiving; the hut was much bigger than it looked. It's almost the size of a mansion – such are the perks of being a demigod. She's living in style, that's what she is. But it isn't the same. Not without . . .
That's a subject for later, she decides, entering the cottage. She's met with her mother taking out the tray of freshly baked cookies from the kitchen. Her step-dad's lounging on the chair, and her step brother – he inherited Step-dad's dark hair and Mum's blue eyes – has headphones in and is humming to some song. Back in Black, she knows, because Richard just loves AC/DC. In all honesty, she preferred Evanescence. Or U2. Anything but AC/DC and Metallica. Ellie Goulding's 'Burn's' nice too. Taylor Swift's okay.
But there's a surprise too – in the form of two of the most famous people in the demigod world. Thalia Grace and Nico di Angelo – Artemis' lieutenant and the Ghost King.
"Hey guys," She goes to hug them, "how's everything going?"
"The Hunt's just peachy, Andy." Thalia tells her. She wanted a name that was close to her actual one (Which she couldn't use, because hello? In case you haven't noticed, she's a girl) – Andromeda. Since that was a mouthful, she shortened it to Andy. Handy, yeah? And Mom approved, too.
Nico hesitates a bit. Andy frowns. "I'm fine, if that's what you're asking." He says finally. Andy frowns deeper. "But there's something I've got regarding those people you asked about – and believe me, some of it isn't pretty."
Andy's eyes widen.
"Excuse us." She announces, and practically drags Nico to the next room.
"What did you find out?" she hisses harshly once they were hidden from all prying ears and eyes. Nico's eyes flick to his feet, and she takes his chin between her fingers and demands, "Well?"
"There isn't anyone known as 'Annabeth Chase', for one." The Ghost King rolls his eyes. For some reason, Andy's the only one who remembers the daughter of Athena. They all remember Percy Jackson, Son of Poseidon (He's alive you know. Just not the same); but no one, and by that Andy means no one remembers Annabeth Chase, his awesome kickass girlfriend. Not even Nico, in whose eyes she was the greatest competitor for gaining Percy's affections before he switched to Will Solace – Son of Apollo. Not even Thalia Grace, who was her best friend – before the person in question disappeared. Nico continues. "And the guy you were asking – Who even has a name like that? – is apparently a freaking mass murder with a serious superiority complex and is absolutely insane." Something is seriously wrong. He would never do such a thing. He promised. "Thirdly, the quote-un-quote 'Hunters' Sam and Dean Winchester? Apparently, they just closed the portal to Purgatory too late, which led to disastrous results – Dad won't tell me any more than this." He whines the last sentence, and she ruffles his hair affectionately.
"Thanks, Neeks." She says, thankful.
Nico squawks indignantly. "My name is not 'Neeks'!"
"Whatever," she rolls her eyes, "but seriously. Thank you so very much!"
"Anytime." He replies, almost reflexively. "Just don't get yourself in trouble, yeah?"
"Yeah," she says, her eyes far away. "Sure."
What did you do now?
- X -
"I should have known, like the abomination you are, you would divulge my secret." Castiel says, angered. "I trusted you, Dean, and I gave you freedom – and this is how you repay me? I have told you this once, and I will tell you twice – I dragged you out of hell, and I can just as easily put you back in; and it is much easier now that I am God."
"I fucking knew it." A voice rings through the air.
They turn around so fast, they almost get whiplash. The interrupter is a girl, with green eyes. She's around five feet six, with naturally curly black hair. The girl looks to be around twenty, and her hands are on her hips.
She looks like that kind of girl who Dean would have chased – that is, if she was:
a) Of his age, because he isn't a pedophile by any means.
b) Even interested in him, because she looks like the type who likes being steady.
"Leave, human." Castiel says through narrowed eyes. "This is not your place."
"Oh yeah?" she challenges. Dean absolutely likes this chick. She's totally badass. "I'm sure you were the one who promised that you'd come back to me."
Dean's confused. So is Cas, and Sam.
"Come back to you?" Cas repeats, puzzled. "I am sure I was not with you in the first place."
Her face hardens, but Dean see a flicker of hurt behind them. "Seaweed Brain?" She challenges. "Ring a bell?"
Castiel looks so confused in that moment, it could have been the angel Dean knows for two years. "I do not understand." He says.
The girl's face falls. "I had a feeling this would happen," she says sadly, "which is why I brought re-enforcements." She claps her hands together, a loud sound, and girls in silver parkas have silver arrows aimed at Cas – each tipped with some kind of vivid green fire, like the color that is raging in the girl's eyes. A cold hands grips Dean's shoulder, and he jumps. Turning around, he sees that the owner is some kind of Emo-Goth with an obsession of death.
"Nico, take them out." She demands. "They'll be severely injured otherwise."
"Now just wait a minute –" Dean protests, but it's cut off when the shadows envelop him altogether. The last thing he sees is Sam's panicked face, because this pyscho has them both. But when they look around, he isn't there.
They're standing in some nice little cottage, and a little girl greets them. "Hi! Momma said that Uncle Nico's bringing visitors." She's an exact replica of the badass they'd seen just a few moments ago. "You wanna cookie?" she holds up a chocolate chip cookie. A blue chocolate chip cookie. A blue chocolate chip cookie with blue chocolate.
What the heck? Dean figures, and takes a cookie. He's waiting for the whole fiasco to blow over because for once, he doesn't need to take part.
- X -
"What is this?" the self-proclaimed 'God' demands. "You do realize that some apple green flame will not hurt me."
She's still smiling that sad little smile, pulling out the necklace that used to hold the little flask which had once upon a time held the thing dear to him. His eyes widen.
"That starlit night." She says. "It was that starlit night you took what was yours, and what I had been protecting. In return for safekeeping your one weakness, you gave me a child. Our child, which I raised. We can have that back – I can be your Seaweed brain again, you can be my Wise Girl. Or," she laughs a bit, "if you're going to be a guy, Wise Boy. But it doesn't have the same ring to it," She muses.
Percy Jackson, now Andromeda 'Andy' Jackson, looks at Castiel (Annabeth Chase) expectantly.
"Or," Thalia snarls angrily, "we can blast you with Greek Fire and be done with it."
Castiel closes his eyes, and memories burst behind his eyelids. Feeding a green-eyed twelve year old, shouting insults at a Cyclops, seeing a silver Greek goddess (Artemis, he thinks) fight a Titan (Atlas), running through a huge maze away from one of the most oldest monsters, facing a golden eyed boy who was burning at the Hearth, searching nook and cranny for someone, standing with a sprained ankle in front of Arachne, being terrified of the green eyed boy in some burning place, and facing off Earth.
"Annabeth," the girl . . . Percy pleads, "Come home."
Castiel, now blonde haired and grey eyed whispers, "Home . . ." It's a far away dream.
Percy smiles. "Home." She agrees. "We'll go home. And you'll get to see our daughter. I named her Silena Zoë Jackson, if you don't mind."
No, Castiel (now Annabeth thinks), I don't mind at all. Annabeth flicks a hand, and they both are in the genders they used to be. She also erases little Silena's memory, and now the little girl sees Percy instead of Andy.
"Stop Hunting for faith now Annabeth," Percy says, "We can be together without any problems."
"We can," Annabeth agrees, and they go home.
And Annabeth? She's stopped thinking that her Father's alive, she's finally stopped hunting for faith. But her hunt for love? She didn't even need to, because all the love she need is here, right beside her, smiling that smile she fell in love with years ago.
So, how was that one-shot? Not too shabby, I hope. And the contest still remains: Fandoms involved in my penname.
R&R
Star
