Title: Matter Of Fact, It's All Dark (2/5)
Author: Arisprite
Summary: The news came blaring through Castiel's mind; the Winchesters were dead. Knowing they were coming back was all well and good, but this was their chance to find out where God was, and Castiel had to tell them about the garden.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, nor the characters, though I love them so. Some of the dialogue in this is lifted straight from the episode "Dark Side of the Moon" though the internal thoughts are my interpretation. Title belongs to Pink Floyd.
A/N: I am always fascinated by what Castiel's doing when he'd offscreen, be it searching for God, or contacting the Winchesters in Heaven with a "hard to maintain" connection. To my knowledge, this hadn't been done before, and then the thing expanded. I also love writing Castiel and Bobby interactions. So, "Dark Side of the Moon" Cas POV.
Warnings: Canon character death, angel whump, angst, as much swearing as the show.
Castiel continued calling at intervals for a long while, feeling the connection waver, and his power drain. There were occasional sounds from the bowl, sounding like they were a long distance away. The first time it happened, it was Dean's voice, calling out to Sam. Bobby stopped where he'd been rolling towards the fridge to finally fix breakfast, though it was still not even five in the morning, and Castiel leaned forward, nearly upsetting the bowl.
"Dean! Are you there?" But Dean's voice faded away, and since then they'd only heard snatches of Dean, or Sam or once, music.
"Do you want anything?" Bobby had asked him, regarding said breakfast, but Castiel ignored him.
Then, when he felt the ritual losing its integrity, and just as he was about to lean back after saying Dean's name wearily once last time, he heard something clearer than before.
"Cas?"
"Dean!" Bobby exclaimed, turning from the counter. Castiel ignored him, staring at the bowl as if it could show him the other hunter.
"Yeah, it's me." Castiel said, sending an extra burst of power to be sure the words got through clear.
"You gotta stop poking around in my dreams. I need some 'me' time." Dean said, sounding crackly.
Castiel leaned forwards further, his nose almost touching the surface. Bobby hovered behind him.
"Listen to me very closely. This isn't a dream."
"Then what is it?" Dean's voice said after a pause.
"Deep down you already know."
There was a longer pause, and Castiel felt the connection waver for a moment. For a split second, he was afraid he'd lost Dean entirely, but then his voice came through, more broken up then before.
"I'm dead..."
"Condolences," Castiel replied, knowing that was the term, and Bobby gave him a look he couldn't interpret.
"Where am I?" Dean asked, and Castiel turned his attention and energy back to the bowl.
"Heaven."
"Heaven? How did I...to Heaven?"
Dean's voice wavered, and Castiel sent another pulse of angelic power into the connection. It didn't help much. He was running out of time.
"Please, listen." Castiel said, "This spell, this connection...it's difficult to maintain." And indeed, the prolonged casting was taking its toll; he could feel his vessel shaking again from exertion, and there was sweat beading on his brow.
"Wait, if I'm in Heaven...then where's Sam?"
There was the question. Castiel was relatively sure that Sam was in Heaven too, simply so that Dean would be easier to persuade, but it was possible that Sam had been rejected and sent...down.
"What do you see?" Castiel asked.
"What do you mean, what do I see?" Dean's voice was agitated, even through the shaky connection. Castiel tried to explain quickly.
"Some people see a tunnel, or a river. What do you see?"
"Nothing, my dash. I'm in my car, I'm on a road."
"Alright, a road. For you, it's a road." That made sense, for Dean's entire life had been a road so far. Only fitting his afterlife was one too. "Follow it, Dean. You'll find Sam. Follow the road."
The connection was fading fast, and Castiel poured a little bit more power into the ritual to no avail. There was a garbled sound, and then the bloody water blinked back into its natural pinkish surface, the link cutting off like the snapping of a whip.
The backlash rushed like an electric shock through Castiel's body, and he stiffened in pain, not able to help crying out, then slumping bonelessly in the wake. He fell forwards, narrowly missing the bowl. He probably blacked out for a moment, but Bobby didn't have time to finish a shout of surprise, before he groaned and began moving again.
"What the hell was that, you idjit?" Bobby rolled his chair close, and braced his shoulder. Castiel was ashamed to admit that he leaned into it for a moment.
"The ritual took more power than I expected." Castiel murmured, trying to straighten up. "I'll be fine."
"Yeah, sure, I'll believe that when you can hold your head up on your own."
To prove him wrong, Castiel pushed his chair back, away from Bobby's hand, but when he tried to stand, the floor tilted up, and he had to slam his palms on the table. Castiel could practically hear Bobby rolling his eyes, grumbling again.
"Sit down before you collapse, you moron." Castiel sank back into the chair. The room was slowing now, and Castiel slowly removed his hands from the surface of the table, and folded them in his lap, hiding the trembles of exhaustion from sight.
"Now, I'm fixing breakfast, and you're eating some, got it?" Bobby said, wheeling to the fridge, and peering in. "I've got eggs or eggs, take your pick."
"Angel's don't need to eat, Bobby." He said from the kitchen table. Bobby didn't look over, cutting a small onion.
"You have to do that ritual again, right? Talk to the boys again?"
"As soon as I've gathered enough power, yes." Castiel said.
"Then you're eating. You look like you just ran a marathon, boy."
Too tired to fight it further, Castiel accepted Bobby's words, sinking back into the chair. His eyes followed Bobby's hands, stirring the eggs and grating cheese into a bowl. They were homely actions, and somehow soothing in a world set on ending, despite their best efforts. Tragedy and destruction were all around, and people like Bobby Singer cooked breakfast for a friend.
He was jolted out of his thoughts by a plate clunking in front of him. Bobby pulled his wheelchair around to the other side of the table, and set his own plate down. Castiel looked down, and a cheesy omelette lay on his plate. Castiel picked up the fork tentatively. The last time he'd eaten had been that debacle with Famine and his resulting craving for red meat. He'd not truly enjoyed more than the first few burgers, and he'd especially disliked the resulting illness from the overstuffing. He was hesitant to eat again, even though logically he knew that there was no enough on this plate for his body to feel the need to reject. And he had to admit the aroma was pleasing.
He slowly lowered the fork and sliced off a piece of the egg and cheese. He then pierced it with the fork, and then raised it and placed it in his mouth, and then began to chew. The flavor was pleasant, and Castiel's eyes widened as he swallowed.
"It's good, huh?" Bobby asked, smiling to himself. Castiel had to nod. Bobby smirked and began eating his own breakfast with gusto. Castiel ate his more sedately.
There was silence for a few moments, and then Bobby put down his fork with a hard clink.
"They are coming back, right?" Bobby said, voice gruff. Castiel swallowed his bite of food, and looked at the other man.
Bobby was coping well, of course, but Castiel could see that the news of the Winchester's death had been hard on him. Even Castiel, who was mostly sure that they would come back uninjured and probably mostly angry, had reacted to the news with grief. It had passed as he worked for a way to contact them, and hearing Dean's voice had helped; but he hadn't lived his whole life with the concept of dying being the end. Bobby had, and as asking for reassurance was out of character for him. Castiel sought to give him the best hope he could.
"Yes, Bobby. They are." They have to.
And now that he was thinking of it...if they did not, or if Dean or Sam were forced to say yes while they were away in his old home (and the fact that Heaven was now a place of danger to his friends, and himself, as well as being a locale that he was barred from was a whole different thing that he did not feel like probing) Castiel did not know what he would do.
Of course, true to Bobby's character, he went and asked the question he didn't want to answer. "And if not?"
A long moment passed, while Castiel stared down at his food.
"It does not bear thinking about."
Next chapter soon...
