The Keys

Crowley gazed down at the bound and unconscious form of the Old God with curiosity, puzzling over the sheer amount of power that this vessel contained. Castiel stood conservatively a few steps back, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides, pacing a small path into the concrete floor, eyeing Aleister like a bomb that could explode at any moment.

Crowley uncomfortably acknowledged to himself that this probably wasn't a bad idea, and took a step away himself.

He, Castiel, Gabriel, Cain and Jesse stood in a small, enclosed room with sigils engraved on the wall, pulsing with Angelic and Demonic power. A single large concrete slab rose from the middle of the floor, similarly inscribed. On it's surface were smooth metal bands, wrapped around the wrists and ankles of Aleister Crowley, who writhed fitfully in an unconscious-like sleep, his eyes flying back and forth wildly beneath the closed lids.

"So, what do we do with it?" Crowley asked, turning back to Castiel, an eyebrow raised. Castiel stopped his pacing and cleared his throat, eyes darting quickly at the Old God and back to Crowley.

"What do you mean? We destroy it, that's what we do with it."

Crowley clucked his tongue impatiently. "Stop thinking like a soldier for a second, Castiel. You know good and well why that is not even theoretically possible."

Castiel's shoulders sank. "Balance."

Crowley nodded. "We not only need to send this thing back to the Void, we need to trap it there. So, once again, suggestions?"

Almost as if in silent response, Aleister, containing the Old God Nyarlathotep, stirred. Crowley jerked away even further, and then, reconsidering, walked a good distance away to stand near Castiel.

"Well, the Gate needs to be repaired, right?" Jesse asked. He stood in the corner, arms folded over his chest. Gabriel and Cain both nodded.

"Easier said than done, kiddo," Gabriel sighed. "God made that. And I watched when He pulled it down, too."

Castiel threw his hands up in the air, pacing away angrily. "Why would Father do that?! I mean, He...or they..." he winced at the puzzled looks he got and held up a hand. "Long story...God told me that He gave us the Souls of Heaven and Hell to create a balance, to heal the wound left from the deaths of Michael and Lucifer. What He didn't tell me is what to do with it. In fact, I think He's of a split mind...literally, on whether or not to go ahead with a Biblical level Armageddon."

"Judah," Gabriel nodded. He shrugged. "That would be Judah'S idea right? And you're not wrong. God has kind of Universal mindset, and it's strained to it's limits right now. Even in the midst of that Zombie spell, I was able to see Him on that hill having a picnic with Himself - He's split into multiple forms."

Crowley closed his eyes tightly, waving his hand, "Wait a second here, are you suggestion that God is a schizophrenic right now?"

Gabriel shrugged again. "Yeah, kind of, in layman's terms. He's Chuck, Charlie and Judah, and they are of very different minds as to how to rescue Creation, but hey, at least they are on the same page as to whether or not it should be rescued."

"Which is an improvement," Cain muttered. "Judah left to his own devices would see it all burn down."

"We're getting nowhere," Crowley said wearily, pacing around Aleister. "We have all of this power, and no idea what to do with it." He glanced at Gabriel. "Unless you know some way of reconstituting the Gate..."

Gabriel shook his head vigorously. "Nope. Sorry. Outside of my pay grade."

Castiel sighed and sank to the floor, his back against a wall. "It's only a matter of time before Nyarlathotep wakes up." He looked up at Jesse. "And I'm not sure if you'll be able to take him by surprise again."

Jesse nodded. "I mean, I can manifest just about anything, but there are limits...and that thing..." he shuddered. "It's power is so vast. Even as I put it under, it was like it was laughing at me. It took all of my power just to put it asleep." He looked away. "It knows it's only a temporary victory. And it's already waited so long."

Crowley nodded. "I hate to have to admit to this, gentlemen, but we appear to be far out of our league. We need something cosmically powerful here...which leads me to my next question...where has Death gotten off to?" He looked around the room. "Anyone seen him recently?" There were several doubtful looks and the shaking of heads. "Because if anyone can tell us why God is being so damned indecisive and mercurial, it's..."

"Me," said a quiet voice from the corner of the room. They all startled and turned towards the tall, gaunt and pale figure in a trim black suit that seemed to appear out of nowhere. "I was wondering at what point that you all would finally ask for me. And to answer your question, God is being indecisive because He has to be right now."

"What...why?" Crowley sputtered, regaining his composure."

"Because He is going to die," Death answered plainly, his features still. "He wants to, actually. And His will be done, after all."

"He's...He's dying...?" Gabriel asked meekly.

Death looked towards him. "No, He is going to die, at His own request, I might add." he looked around the room and sighed softly, his chin lowering into his chest, eyes closing gently. "His two eldest sons, who have been feuding with each other since the dawn of time, through no small fault of His own, just tried to wrest all of His power and depose Him. As a result of their actions, not only did He have to watch them both die, but His Creation began to be devoured by the powers they unleashed." He let that sink in, a heavy silence filling the small room. "Now, believe me when I tell you this, He could have set things to rights with a flick of His fingers. This circle of Life and Death has played out a nearly countless number of times. But this time..." he hesitated, his eyes looking very tired and sad for a moment before continuing. "This time, it was His closest family. This time, He decided that it was time to move on."

The heavy silence returned, and they all seemed to be studying the floor, searching for answers, a way out.

"So...so that's it," Jesse finally croaked. "I mean...we're all going to die, right? God has given up?"

Death smiled humorously and shook his head slightly. "No necessarily boy. As I've stated, He is going to die. But He loves His Creation, it is good. He has deemed it necessary to allow let something to continue in His absence, but the shape of it cannot be determined by Him and Him alone. So you see..."

"...He has to be indecisive right now...because we are the ones that have to determine where Creation will end up..." Castiel finished, his eyes watering and face solemn. He looked at Death silently for confirmation, and the Reaper inclined his head slightly.

"For the cycle to be ever truly broken, it not only has to be passed on to new hands, it must be constructed in their image, with their own free will," Death said. He sighed and smiled wanly. "I have already passed my duties along, just as God is doing. I will be allowed out of this pattern as well." His smile grew and he squared his shoulders happily. "I am quite looking forward to it, actually. We discussed this, Him and I. It is time for the next generation, the fruits of our endeavors, to continue on in our stead." His gaze turned serious as he scanned their faces, his eyes finally coming to a rest over Aleister. "Let us hope that their first steps are not catastrophic ones."

"But...we still don't know how to do that..." Castiel said quietly. "Isn't there...anything that you can tell us?"

Death looked up at him. "Neither did your Father, Castiel. He fought, went to war with the Void, trapped it, and struggled to hold it back for eons. His Creation was His Creation. Whether you decide to follow in his footsteps, or create something of yourselves entirely new is up to you." He frowned and held up a finger. "But, as I've explained, the consequences of taking a misstep are dire. And while you are powerful, you are not God, nor shall you ever become God. You are merely inheriting the raw materials that He created and are using their legacy to carry on. Therefore, I will offer you this help..." He looked slowly around the room. "Find a balance. A constant war will wear down even the most patient and loving of beings. Find a way to let your enemy get what they want as well. Strike a balance, as I have done with Cartaphilus, granting him the power to carry out his wishes, but at the same time, serving in my stead to the benefit of Creation." There were a few gasps at this, and Death smiled. "He has been granted the power of Death, and has been using it, albeit unknowingly at first, to create new dimensions, new multiverses. You have been given that same power, potentially, with the Souls that you possess, they must only find a true home, one that allows them to create as they were intended to. Somewhere sustainable. A new Heaven and Hell?" He shrugged. "That is up to you. The Old Gods want something that is sustainable to their existence as well. Find out what that is..." he frowned, looking once more pointedly at Aleister Crowley. "...preferably one that does not involve consuming everything living, if you please." He looked back up at them again. "It can be done. It must be done. Trust me...and trust in each other."

Death turned towards the wall, his form fading as he walked slowly towards it. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a promise to keep with a very old friend." With that, he disappeared, leaving them alone in silence, one filled somehow with an electric level of possibility and thought.

Crowley finally broke that buzzing silence with a small cough into a closed fist. He smiled and strode forward into the center of the room, his hands shoved deep into his suit's pockets.

"So, we've apparently been handed the keys to Dad's Ferrari, boys. What comes next?"

He question was, admittedly to his mutual expectation and satisfaction, met only with wide, staring, stunned expressions.