Warning: This fic contains self-harm, suicide, mentions of suicide, alcohol and drug abuse, and depression. Please heed the tags. There will be a warning at the top of each chapter if there is mention of suicide or self-harm, but the rest is going to be rife with it. As it is, the first chapter definitely has mentions of a past suicide attempt, so if you feel uncomfortable with it, you can skip past it as it's only briefly mentioned in one paragraph.
Anyway, this idea came to me when I rewatched season 5 episode 4 The End, and follows the very same storyline of that episode. Everything afterward comes from what happened in that episode, which is pretty dark to begin with. Dean is dead, Sam is possessed by Lucifer, and Castiel has the unfortunate luck to survive the attack on Lucifer. Beyond that, this fic is basically an interpretation of what happens after, and how the world ends from the perspective of a now-human angel.
Chapter 1
The end of the world should have been violent. Lucifer walked the planet. Natural disasters occurred with alarming frequency. Croatoan was running rampant through the populace. Hell was literally on earth. It should be more violent, not this unsettling silence.
Castiel didn't know what to expect. He'd always heard about the apocalypse ending in Michael's victory. That was what every angel had been told since the concept began and Lucifer was locked away. It was supposed to be paradise on Earth, and not… Not this.
He knelt, his hand shakily reaching over to find pulse that no longer was there. Dean's glassy eyes stared unseeing at the sky, his neck at an odd angle that made Castiel wish he still had his grace so he could heal Dean at a touch. However, his shaking fingers found nothing, and Castiel collapsed to his side, steadying his breathing as a widening stain of blood soaked into his shirt. Cold was seeping into his extremities, but the fallen angel didn't care.
He'd failed. All of his efforts since he'd possessed Jimmy Novak had failed. The Host had left, Heaven sealed off as the angels fled the planet. The living were mere scattered fragments of what they were, living in isolated pockets that would soon be wiped out. Sam was gone, lost to Lucifer, and Dean…
Castiel gripped Dean's shirt, hand trembling as his eyes burned. This shouldn't be happening. He shouldn't have outlived Dean. He'd known, going into the mission, that he'd never survive it. However, it was giving Dean a chance to put an end to Lucifer. Sure, Dean might not have survived the outcome, but it should have been over.
Gasping, he felt hot tracks running down his face as he bowed his head. He was supposed to protect Dean, Sam, humanity. They were his charge. Humans had always been his charge. That was his Father's will, to watch and guide humanity. When had the other angels lost sight of that? When did he become the only angel that cared?
He knelt for a long while, his knees aching from the position and some loose rocks, and his shirt steadily growing more red. Not that it mattered to him. Castiel was a soldier. He'd been prepared to die at any moment. The only thing he couldn't deal with was the human experience.
Footfalls on pavement however caused the fallen angel to turn. Castiel looked back, spying the form of Sam Winchester, now Lucifer, watching the display. His fingers tightened around a fistful Dean's shirt.
"Oh brother, I am sorry for your loss."
"No, you're not." Castiel licked his lips, watching Lucifer carefully. "You got what you wanted. Go ahead, end it."
"No." Lucifer cocked his head to the side, watching Castiel carefully. "I don't think I will."
"Why?"
"You'd fallen, and I gave you the choice years ago." Lucifer walked around to face Castiel's front. "To come with me. You refused. This is your reward for refusal."
Castiel huffed out a laugh, wincing as it caused a twinge of fire in his chest. "I'm dying anyway. It's only a matter of time. You might as well end me now."
"I think not." Lucifer stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. "You're not going to die today, Castiel. You're not going to die tomorrow. You're going to survive, and bear witness to the end of these creatures that Father claims are worthy of our love."
"You can't do this."
"And how are you to stop me?" Lucifer gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. "You're graceless, you can't harm me. Your last chance failed. Our Father abandoned this planet. There's nothing you or anyone can do to stop me. And even if there was a chance, you won't do it. You're broken, Castiel."
Castiel felt his chest constrict at those words. He didn't want to admit it, not really, but there was truth to Lucifer's words. His fingers gripped at Dean's shirt, his knuckles whitening until he didn't think there was any blood left in them. "I don't believe you."
"That's the funny thing about belief." Lucifer smirked as he looked down at the former angel. "What you choose to believe and what's the truth can be two completely different things. You chose to believe humanity worth saving." Hazel eyes, once so compassionate but now so cold, locked onto Castiel. "Tell me Castiel, do the humans know what you are?"
"What are you talking about?"
Lucifer's smirk grew into a grin. "They don't, do they? Tell me Castiel, how would the hairless apes react if they found out that you were an angel? That you had fallen. Just. Like. Me. Would they be so welcoming if they knew the truth?"
"Shut up."
Lucifer pressed on, regardless. "They wouldn't, would they? They would drive you out, cast you amongst the rabble. They would let you be torn apart by the very monsters they fight against."
"Shut up!"
"Or they might not." Lucifer looked up, thinking before he returned his cold gaze to Castiel. "They might decide to make an example of you. Kill you because they can't kill me. Or worse-"
"Shut up!"
"They might just decide to become very much like my demons and torture you without remorse." Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head. "After all, it wasn't that hard to break them in Hell. It doesn't take much. Just a promise for the pain to end."
Castiel shook his head in denial. They wouldn't. Castiel had been around humanity for years. He knew them better than that. Lucifer was trying to fill his head with lies.
"Perhaps that's what I should do." Lucifer crouched, bringing himself down to eye level with Castiel. "Offer an end to the apocalypse by telling them about you and informing them about everything you've done. Let them know that your torture and death would free them from all of this."
Shame filled him, burning hot and ruthless, as he knew that Lucifer was right in that regard. He had brought this on humanity. Had he not let Sam out of the panic room, had he told them about Lilith, had he worked harder to prevent the seals from breaking…
Had he never saved the Righteous man…
Did Dean truly hate him in the end?
Lucifer was looking at him again, though his gaze was filled with pity. Castiel didn't want it. He already felt sick enough, burned with shame and grief. He didn't need Lucifer's pity. "No, I believe I will stick with my plan to let you see the end. Watch as humanity finally falls, and let you see them as they truly are."
Castiel pulled away as Lucifer reached out, feeling a tearing sensation but not caring. What Lucifer was saying, Castiel wanted nothing to do with. He would rather die now than suffer through watching humanity's final gasp. However, he found himself frozen when Lucifer gestured and when he felt Lucifer's fingers graze his forehead, he wanted to flinch away. To run. All he got instead was a feeling of frozen grace feather-light against the reservoir of where his own used to reside. The cold feeling spread and Castiel gasped, shivering.
Lucifer straightened then, turning before casting a glance at Castiel. "Farewell Castiel. We won't see each other again. Enjoy your time on Earth."
One Year Later...
Castiel drummed his fingers on the wheel, watching as the devastated countryside rolled by. He was itching for something, anything that he could take. He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't stoned or high on something, and the bottles in his cabin were a testament to what he usually consumed. Not that it mattered.
Chuck had told Castiel that if he continued drinking like he did, he was going to die from alcohol poisoning. Castiel had ended up in a fit of hysterics, laughing so hard tears ran down his face because Chuck couldn't understand. He couldn't understand that Castiel had disappeared once to try to overdose, drink himself to death, and had woken up hours later with a raging headache, in a puddle of vomit and blood from his self-inflicted gunshot wound, and still alive.
Lucifer had cursed him, and a year later, Castiel was resigned to watching humanity's demise. Not that he planned on watching it sober. He'd ended up going out of his way to seek out new ways to keep him under the influence, because at least it kept him from thinking. Kept him from remembering that Dean was gone, that he couldn't follow him anymore. This was his punishment for rebelling, for not going along with the apocalypse, for trying to defy fate.
He turned into a deserted parking lot, the only evidence of people ever being here a few burned-out husks of cars littering the lot. He'd finally found a bar, and he hoped he could replenish his waning stock of liquor. Not that he had to worry about Croats or demons.
It was eerie how not long after Dean's death everything seemed to be on pause. Camp Chitaqua believed that somehow the apocalypse had ended, that Lucifer was done. The few refugees that trickled into the camp came with the same news. Nothing was happening. It was almost as if Lucifer had vanished into thin air, and Earth was given a reprieve. People were discussing that maybe the worst was over.
Castiel wasn't so sure about that. If nothing else, he was certain that his curse was still in effect. Not that he'd tell anyone. He was sure that would go over well in a camp full of hunters. It was bad enough that his status as a fallen angel would have turned the whole of the camp against him, but so far the only person that knew was Chuck. Everyone else was, well, dead. If they found out that Lucifer had done something to him, they'd suspect that the only reason he survived the attack at all was because he got protection in exchange for helping Lucifer.
The whole mess was volatile, which was why Castiel had determined that no one was going to find out anything. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and eyeing the bar carefully. He really needed something to drink. He was starting to reflect, and reflecting was never a good thing. Besides-
"Well, you going in or what?"
That would be the other thing he wanted to avoid. He had apparently sobered up enough to hear him again. "Yes, I'm going in."
"Well then, go already. You were planning on getting trashed, might as well do it. 'Bout the only thing you're good at doing anymore, anyway."
Castiel whirled around, glaring. Dean Winchester sat leaning against the door to the jeep he'd borrowed for this liquor run, a smirk on his face and his neck looking off from it being snapped. He'd been following him since Dean's death, and Castiel was certain he was a phantom of his imagination, a hallucination brought about by his best friend's death. Castiel knew Dean was dead, had accepted it, but apparently his mind loved fucking with him. "Like you'd know what I'm good for."
Dean smirked, shaking his head. "Of course I would. I've been watching you doing this same shit for a long while. Face it, you're useless."
"Shut up." Castiel ground his teeth and got out of the jeep, stalking forward to slam open the door to the bar. It wasn't like he could escape the phantom. Dean would just follow.
Inside the bar was pretty much a wreck. Tables were overturned and glasses were shattered. However, it seemed that the area behind the bar still had bottles, and Castiel went there first, sidestepping several broken chairs in the process. He then pulled up short, the smell hitting him before anything else.
"Damn." Dean crouched down, looking the body over that Castiel had discovered. It was badly decomposed, but Castiel could see where the head had been bashed in. "This hasn't been here long."
Indeed it hadn't, and Castiel felt on edge, looking around the bar once again to see if he could see something that he'd missed. The person had likely died a couple of weeks ago, and the former angel wondered if the person responsible was still around. He doubted it, but he could never be too sure. "I didn't see anyone around."
"Nah, might be long gone by now." Dean stood, glancing around at the bottles lining the shelves. "They didn't come for the booze. It's all still here."
Castiel shivered, but shook his head. "Well, I'm going to grab what I came here for. You can go away now."
Dean snorted. "Couldn't go away if I tried, remember? I'm a hallucination or some shit. Thought I'd be the one with 'em."
Castiel brushed by Dean, not acknowledging that statement. Returning to the jeep, he pulled out a bag he'd intended to stuff with as many bottles as he could. He then made his way back to behind the bar, stepping over the body. He busied himself with opening the bag and started shoving bottles in, ignoring how Dean was now examining the body again.
"You must really be used to all of this now, huh?" Castiel glanced over, a frown on his face as Dean examined him. "Before, you used to try and do something."
"And what would I do?" Castiel grimaced as he examined a bottle that was mostly empty. Maybe he could mix it in with another to save space. It wasn't like he wouldn't drink it regardless. "It's not like I can bury every human out there."
"Didn't stop you before."
"Please spare me the morality lesson. Righteous Man or no, you are hardly the person to give me one." Castiel finished loading the bag and hefted it onto one shoulder. He'd have to come back with a larger bag or even a crate for what was left, but he was content that he had enough for a few days. "Now, can we go, or is there something else you'd like to tell be about how I've failed?"
Dean snorted. "Whatever man. You're the only one beating yourself up."
Castiel pressed his lips together, but refused to say anything more. He made his way out of the bar, and when he pulled the back door open, he spotted Dean in the shotgun seat. Shoving the bag into the back seat, he rolled his eyes at Dean and went around to slip into the driver's side.
The minute he was back on the road, Dean seemed to disappear again. Castiel was grateful for that. It seemed like the phantom only wanted to belittle him for his choices in life, and no matter how much he initially begged for Dean to leave him in peace, it never seemed to help. The only times he could find respite from it was in the bottles or the pills, when he was too stoned, high, or drunk to care about what Dean said. The minute he even started getting sober, Dean would be back, reminding him of all his failings. Castiel didn't need reminders. He hated himself enough as it was.
Castiel listened to the quiet, grimacing as he realized he was starting to think again and reaching into the glove compartment to grab out a tape. It was one of Dean's old mix tapes, and while the hunter had eliminated a lot of things from his old life before his passing, the tapes had remained. He popped it into the tape deck and cranked up the volume, letting Led Zepplin fill the jeep.
Reaching back, he opened the bag to pull out a bottle of whiskey, keeping an eye on the road. He needed it. He always hated it when the phantom got under his skin, and thankfully this time it had been brief. The last time it had happened, Dean had been around for three days, deriding him for his cowardice and criticizing his lifestyle. He grinned as he felt his fingers wrap around the neck of one bottle, pulling forward the supposed liquid courage, though he could never figure out what was so courageous about fermented grains.
"Dude, pull over."
Castiel blinked, looking toward the front and annoyed that Dean had returned. However, his annoyance didn't stay, as he spotted the overturned vehicle. Cold dread seemed to settle in his gut as he realized it was surrounded by Croats. He glanced toward Dean, whose eyes hadn't left the scene before them, and briefly wondered when his hallucinations were supposed to view the world outside of his perception. His hand fell away from the bottle, however, and instead landed on the wheel, pulling over as he realized that he'd likely have to fight. Again.
Reaching into the footwell, he pulled up the AK he'd set there against the possibility he'd need it. None of the Croats seemed to notice the new vehicle, or if they had, they didn't seem to care. He didn't hesitate, millennia serving as one of God's soldiers taking over and letting his nerves turn to steel as he counted the number of Croats. Seven in total, and Castiel had never seen them when he drove past before. Wrenching the door open, he quickly dropped to one knee, fit the butt of the rifle against his shoulder, and started squeezing off shots.
The first Croat dropped like a stone, causing the rest to jerk around as they realized they were under attack. Two more went down before they started toward Castiel, and suddenly the former angel wondered if this was just a small sample of a greater threat. However, he let that thought go as he continued firing off shots, scoring a hit on one's shoulder before taking another full in the chest. He didn't get a chance to do anything else as the other Croats were on him.
He smacked one with the butt of his rifle, stunning it before he dropped it in favor of grabbing for his knife. The Croat staggered backward before it lurched forward, joining the two others who were grappling for the former angel. Castiel felt his back meet the jeep hard, grimacing through the jolt of pain before he managed to get the knife between him and one of his attackers. That one dropped and gave Castiel a chance to shove one of them back.
Suddenly two shots rang out and the two remaining Croats dropped, causing Castiel to look around wildly. That's when he spotted a girl with blonde hair next to the overturned car, holding a handgun aimed right at him. "Did they bleed on you?"
Castiel blinked and shook his head. "No, I am uninjured."
The girl paused, her gaze sharpening before she moved forward to close the distance. She seemed to study him for a moment, although Castiel couldn't exactly say why. Her eyes looked familiar though. Dean of course chose this time to chuckle. "Oh, this is rich."
Castiel shot Dean a look as the girl looked him over. "Dad?"
His head snapped around to look at her carefully, taking in her facial features now, and not just her eyes. They were older, but they were most assuredly that of Claire Novak, his vessel's daughter. His mouth fell open as he looked her over again, and guilt bubbled up in his gut. Another time he'd failed, he thought. "I am sorry, but I am still not your father."
That caused Claire's eyes to narrow. "Oh, it's you." Her hands had lowered a bit but now they returned as she aimed straight at his head. "Lemme guess, my dad's still trapped in there."
"He's gone." Castiel swallowed, guilt like acid eating away at him. "He passed away in 2009. Raphael, the archangel, obliterated me at the molecular level. I was returned to life, but your father was not restored. He is in Heaven now."
"You're kidding, right?" Claire's expression darkened. "My dad dies, and you get to remain? What the hell?"
What the hell indeed, Castiel mused. Not like he was going to die anytime soon, even if he desperately wished to. "I do admit this is completely unfair-"
"Unfair?" Claire laughed. "Unfair is being told you can't stay up late. You, you went completely past unfair. You ruined my life!"
"I am sorry." His apology felt completely inadequate, and he suddenly realized that she couldn't have been alone. Right? "Is there anyone with you? How did you get here?"
"Oh, now you care?" Claire snorted. "Why? It's not like it matters to you. You're not even human."
That caused Castiel to flinch. Dean leaned out of the door, resting his arms on his knees as he watched the interaction. "Oh, ouch. You know, I kinda like her."
"Shut up," Castiel muttered, throwing a dirty look Dean's way. He was much too sober, and wondered how long before Claire shot him and left him to drink his miseries away.
Claire frowned though, looking between Castiel and where he'd been looking. "Who are you talking to?"
"No one." Castiel heaved a sigh. "Look, if you're going to shoot me, just do it already. It's not going to make a difference, and maybe I'll get lucky and die finally."
Claire stared, gaping. "Wait, you want to die?"
Castiel ignored her, and instead took hold of her hand and guided her pistol to his forehead. "Right here. If you shoot me in the head, there's a chance I might not be able to recover from it. Then again, this is an untested theory since I've only shot myself and no one else has."
"You're crazy." Claire pulled the gun down, staring agape at him. "You can't seriously think that I'd believe that. You're an angel!"
"Fallen angel." Castiel rolled his eyes. "I've been cut off from the Host. I'm now just as mortal as you are." Or at least as mortal as Lucifer made him.
"Are you drunk or something?"
"No." Castiel leaned back, since apparently Claire wasn't planning on shooting him anytime soon. "Though I am going to remedy that as soon as I get back to camp."
Claire stared for a moment longer before she seemed to make up her mind. Grabbing up his rifle, she stalked over to the overturned car and used it to bust out a few windows. She crawled inside, and Castiel was curious as to what she was looking for before she pulled out a bag. Tossing it at him, she climbed up into the passenger seat, causing Dean to swear and reappear in the back seat.
Castiel stood there blinking for a moment, confused. "What are you doing?"
"You have a camp. I've been alone and trying to find a safe place for months now. You do the math." Claire crossed her arms, staring Castiel down.
"I thought you wanted to kill me."
"Changed my mind. People are allowed to do that, you know." Claire continued staring at him defiantly. "So, are you going to get in or not?"
Castiel hesitated a moment before he pulled his knife out of the dead Croat, somewhat surprised that he'd forgotten all about it. Wiping it hastily on its clothing, he slipped it back at the small of his back before climbing in himself. Glancing at Claire and then Dean, who was sitting in the back seat smirking, he shook his head and started the engine back up. "All right then. Camp Chitaqua, here we come."
