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Castiel searches, ever faithful. AU. Words: 980;
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corners of the world
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Castiel searches for his Father, ever faithful, ever hopeful, a small golden charm his only guiding light. He searches the Americas first, because they are closest and he does not feel comfortable leaving the Winchesters alone for too long.
He has not been entirely right since Raphael burned him up. He is alone in this body now, Jimmy gone, and he feels its emotions more keenly. He feels a … pull towards the brothers, a desire to return to them at the end of each day of fruitless searching. He wonders what it means.
Sometimes, he obeys that strange pull.
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After that, he goes to Europe, hoping to find Father in the old palaces and churches, places that have stood in His name for a thousand years and longer. He finds echoes sometimes, memories in the walls not of the Vatican, but a small chapel somewhere in the country side.
God is not where humans believe Him to be.
Unfortunately, He is not where Castiel believes Him to be either
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Asia is the logical consequence of Europe and Castiel freezes in Moscow, snow battering at him in a gale that no human could survive. He is distracted by the howling of the wind, the sheer rage of the weather.
Castiel has never felt cold before Jimmy left their shared body. Now it digs into his bones, drives hooks into his skin and it feels… curious. He stands in the middle of the blizzard, eyes closed, and experiences what it feels like to freeze to death.
The charm in his hand is as cold as the ice on his eyelashes.
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Dean calls for him two months after Lucifer walked free and asks, "Found anything yet?"
Cas considers telling Dean that God is not anything but everything. But the human's faith is a peculiar, injured thing and he has learned that Dean uses words to hide behind, flippant and open when in truth, he hides underneath them, hidden as well as God himself.
"I am still hopeful," he returns quietly, remembering Moscow and the cold, dead feel of metal in his hand.
"So nothing then," Dean surmises and flops on the bed, sighing.
"I will return to searching," Cas (because around Dean, he is always only Cas) states after a few minutes of silence. Apparently, Dean only wished to ask that one question.
"Good luck," the man mutters, already half asleep. "And Cas?"
"Yes?"
"Don't let the lions bite."
It is only later, watching sleeping lions in the shade of a dying tree at the edge of the African desert, that Castiel wonders how Dean knew where he was headed.
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Africa contains many deities, most of them of man's making. Blood and sacrifice. Some try to eat him, many sadly shake their heads at his inquiries, telling him that haven't seen the Creator either. A few, precious few, point spindly fingers this way or that, offering directions.
Many of them Castiel has already found to be useless. He finishes his search of the continent, bows to Mother Africa, giving his thanks to the earth goddess for having her children help him so.
Her laughter rumbles under his feet, giving him the impression of a mother's indulgent amusement.
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The searches the ice worlds last, after Australia, which is devoid of most supernatural life. God is not sipping Mai Tais on a beach outside Sidney, no matter what Dean says.
Nor is He in the ice, hidden away in some cave. But Castiel takes a moment to stand in another storm and feel the cold, so different from the lazy heat of Africa and Australia. Heat makes this body (his body) feel sluggish and tired. The ice carves edges into him, makes him sharper.
He goes to Sam and Dean's motel room to unthaw and tells them that he has failed in his task.
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"What about this?" Sam asks one day, weeks after Cas has returned to them and given up his search. He holds out an article he printed off the internet and Cas skims it with tired eyes.
That is a new thing, too. He gets tired now.
In Brasil, three children rose from the dead after a traffic accident that killed them. A miracle.
"Maybe your God's hanging out down South," Sam supplies when Cas doesn't seem to make the logical leap. He does not call Sam on the possessive pronoun he attaches to God. Sam's faith is as peculiar as his brother's.
"If this is indeed a miracle, it was probably wrought by one of my…" he wants to say siblings, but they are that no longer. Sam understands him nonetheless and lays a big hand on his shoulder.
"Cas," he says, "It's the middle of the apocalypse. The angels probably have something better to do. It's worth checking out."
So does God. In theory. But, whatever, Dean would say.
"You should go," the younger brother tells him.
In Sam-speak that means, don't give up.
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God is not in Brasil slurping Mai Tais either. Dean is wrong and so is Sam, but Castiel does not mind. If God is on Earth (and Castiel is sure He is, because He is not in Heaven and certainly not in Hell) then He is not stationary.
Castiel must have faith and he must keep searching. Sam keeps him supplied with accounts of miracles after Castiel asks him to.
He will find his Father.
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("So," Sam asks, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, "Think he's gonna figure it out?"
Dean shrugs and lies beside his brother. Their sides brush for a moment and two hundred miles away, the charm in Castiel's pocket briefly warms.)
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Sometimes Castiel wonders why he feels such a pull towards the brothers.
But he never wonders enough.
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