Will Live As...

Eight days ago – In an empty hallway of the Resistance

Aleister looked relieved. "Ah. Ok. All's fine then. Have at it," he said, smiling and squaring his shoulders.

Castiel put his hands on either side of Aleister's face, and then looked deep into his eyes.

Aleister, or more specifically, the Being inhabiting Aleister, instantly felt a jolt of pure connection. It exhilarated in the feeling - it had not been sure if it could have found something to use to overpower the will of the Angel - and this was more, much, much more than enough. This would be preferable than having to destroy him.

It seized on the sympathetic energy in the Angel, wondering briefly how it was that a child of God could become so infested with dark energy. It ignored the question, drinking in that darkness, bonding with it, using it, forging it.

The Angel Castiel never had a chance. The Being was born of this. When Lucifer, oh those many millenia ago, had breached the Void and stolen Dark energies to create his Demons, the Ancient Being had felt pain. It had felt that loss for what seemed like, and almost literally was, an eternity. Now that loss dwindled, and was gone.

It was whole once again.

With a gasp, Castiel fell away from Aleister, stumbling and falling to one knee in front of him. Aleister smiled.

How perfectly appropriate, he thought.

"What...what have you done to me...?" Castiel gasped, straining, the veins on his neck black against his skin, the Darkness straining in his blood.

"Don't fight," Aleister said gently, then shrugged. "Or do, it doesn't matter." He titled his head, puzzling at the Angel as the question once again came to mind. "Actually, I should be asking you that same question. You, my friend, are in possession of an extraordinary amount of what you would name 'demonic' energy. Where did you get that?" He rubbed his chin, leaning down to look Castiel in the eyes. Castiel strained and fought to stand, but he was failing. "And, more precisely, what were you planning to do with it? With that much energy, you could rule half of the Universe, as Lucifer did."

"No...idea...what you're talking about," Castiel grunted, sinking further to the floor, sweat pouring down his forehead.

"Truly? Hm. Disappointing." Aleister replied. He sighed and placed his hands on his knees, pushing himself up to a standing position, towering over Castiel's struggling form. Castiel slammed a fist into the ground, his hand then clenching and unclenching.

Aleister smiled down at him. "Painful isn't it? Your Father imposed that pain on me when His Universe was born...after He had imprisoned me after the War of Creation. I have born it ever since."

Castiel struggled to raise his eyes to Aleister. "What...who...are you?"

"A name? You wish to name me? Intriguing. Oh, I suppose I should have one, now that I am manifest, shouldn't I?" Aleister frowned mockingly, considering. "Well, scanning the memories of this host body, I believe I've found one. H.P. Lovecraft once named us all, did you know that? It cost him dearly. His sanity...and beyond."

Aleister smiled and leaned down again. Castiel was nearly prone on the floor, his chest heaving and struggling to take in a breath. "Lovecraft named me 'Azathoth'" he whispered. " But Azathoth is a sleeper, really, a dreamer. I am awoken now, so you may call me 'Nyarlathotep', an Agent of the whole that is Azathoth, and also, in a sense, also the whole...very much like that Holy Trinity of yours, but with just the two..." He smiled insanely. "I am God's opposite number, you could say. Where he brings Order, I am Chaos. Where he brings Light, I bring...well, whatever I please, actually." He watched as Castiel slumped to the floor, unconscious.

"Now, when you awake, you shall do my bidding. I have a task for you Castiel, former Angel of the Lord. And I need you to do it immediately."

Seven days ago – Outside of the Vault of Souls in Hell

Castiel watched as Crowley and Rowena searched inside the Vault. The Souls of Hell weren't there.

Obviously. He knew where those were now. The big question was 'why'? Why had Judah done this to him? Or had it been Lucifer, when he had faced him in combat?

He shook his head. Another time. Now, he heard only the voice in his head. The one that he was compelled to follow.

Get rid of Crowley. God has named him as a Champion. I want him eliminated.

Castiel covertly cast his eyes around, his gaze finally settling on a lever, one that would shut the door...

"It isn't the souls from the Vault?" Castiel shouted. He had moved back to stand near the entrance of the Vault, as if standing guard. "Then where are they?" He saw them turn to him, confused...still...frozen in place...

Good.

Rowena blinked in confusion. "I...I...I don't know ..."

"Castiel..." Crowley said quietly in warning..."Castiel, don't stand too close to that mechanism..."

Castiel looked around him, seemingly confused, and with a very off-balanced twist, bumped a lever set into a stone outcrop near the door. Startled, he leaped away from it and out of the Vault.

"Castiel, no!" Crowley shouted, sprinting towards the door.

But it was too late. With startling swiftness, the Vault door slammed shut, sealing Crowley and Rowena inside.

Perfect.

"It's done," Castiel murmured, hunching up his shoulders and striding away from the massive door.

He is dead, then? The voice instantly appeared in his head., an unhindered intruder. Castiel shuddered.

"Not dead," Castiel answered, shaking his head, closing his eyes in disgust at himself...why couldn't he resist? Why couldn't he fight...

Then what, exactly, have you done with him?

"I have sealed Crowley and Rowena in the Vault of Souls. There is no way out of there."

There was silence in his head, but Castiel could still feel that foul presence lurking back there...embedded in his very existence...

Good. I will send an Agent to finish the job that you couldn't, the voice answered, the disappointment clear in it's tone. Return to me. There is another that I wish to have.

Castiel found himself moving against his will, finding a path back to his point of ingress into Hell, then he flew back.

One day ago – At Resistance Headquarters

Jesse frowned, looking back and forth between Castiel and Aleister. "We...whad'ya mean by 'we'...?"

"Take him..." Aleister said quietly, looking over Jesse's shoulder.

Jesse felt a sharp blow on the back of his head. He managed to turn around, the room spinning...

The Resistance, all of the Ex-Heralds...watched him impassively...Castiel stood in front of him, the blunt end of Angel's Blade held upright in his hand. And his eyes...pitch back...darker than even a Demon's eyes...

"...whhaaat...?" Jesse managed to mutter before slumping to the floor, unconscious.

Aleister sighed, standing up and surveying the room. "Our power is being leeched away somehow. I want to find out how. There is no time to waste." He sighed. "Ironic, that. Locked away for untold millenia, and now there is no time..." He glanced down at Jesse's senseless form and back up at Castiel. "Lock him away. Make sure that he can't use his power to stop us."

Castiel cocked his head to the side. "Why not just kill him?"

Aleister shook his head. "He is the vessel of so much power. We need to feast upon it - use it, as the Lightbringer used us. He needs to live...for a very, very long time..." He smiled, considering. "Actually, sorry to say, well, for him, anyway...his end may never come."

Castiel watched quietly as the corrupted members of the Resistance dragged Jesse's prone form into the hall containing their specially crafted holding cells. He looked at a couple of members of Rowena's coven and nodded at them.

"Gather up everything that you have, Castiel said. "Jesse carries an immeasurable amount of power, the power to bend reality to his will, if he wants to. We need to cut him off from that."

They nodded and rushed off, Castiel watching them go.

Now

Cartaphilus was dancing.

The sheer number of souls that he had banished into the eternal Void today was beyond measure. He smiled, practically glowing, for every Soul that he destroyed, he knew that it would cause an eternal agony for God.

He looked back at Death, who was watching him, an obvious look of disapproval on his face.

"Something wrong?" Cartaphilus asked, still beaming. "I thought this was what you did for a living."

Death bristled. "I never took pleasure from it, as you do now."

"I seriously don't think that you ever took pleasure in anything, you old crow," Cartaphilus sneered.

Death smiled thinly, his eyes twinkling in malice at the insult. "Oh, don't be so sure, Roman. A good Chicago Deep-Dish Pizza, for example, is very likely humanity's greatest achievement."

Cartaphilus barked out a laugh of pure contempt. "More the reason to end their pitiful existence." He looked around the battlefield, at the carnage that had just finished here. The soldiers were re-organizing their lines, and the medics were moving amongst the bodies, checking dog tags. Cartaphilus had already finished collecting their souls, but was lingering to see if any more would soon join their comrades-in-arms in the Void. He watched the possibilities form in front of him, as Death had shown him how to do, trying to guide some of those destinies towards death. He frowned, scanning the sea, and squinting at the wet, kelp-lined stone platforms that had risen from the depths before turning back to Death.

"That can't be it."

Death clasped his hands gently in front of him and inclined his head to the side.

"Whatever are you implying by that?"

"What am I implying...? The battle, of course!" Cartaphilus sputtered, sweeping his arm out wildly. "That was the battle for the last bastion of reality? That was the final Armageddon? The End of all Things!?"

"Apparently not."

Cartaphilus narrowed his eyes dangerously, striding towards Death and stopping just in front of him, staring up into his cold eyes.

"You. You are not telling me something," he hissed in warning.

Death didn't react at all.

"Apparently so," he replied dryly, considering the Roman like a interesting piece of debris that had washed up on the shore.

"Why wasn't that the end of all things, Reaper?" Cartaphilus growled. "The Gate is open, the Enemy walks among us. What could possibly stop it?"

"You're a smart one, figure it out for yourself," Death answered nonchalantly, turning away and striding down the tank line, unseen by the mortals around him.

Cartaphilus turned red with fury. He ran after Death, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him around.

"Answer me!" he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth.

Cartaphilus blinked in surprise as he suddenly found himself on his back, unmoving. Death loomed over him, leaning close, a rusty, pock-marked great scythe pressed firmly against the Roman's neck. He gulped in fear.

"Wha...how?" he sputtered.

Death glared. "You seek to set your will against mine as you set it against God? Infused with the power of Darkness or not, Roman, you will find that task more than you can handle."

"But...you promised me...revenge...you said that you too were tired of this endless cycle..."

"Oh, and I am, and yes, I did indeed," Death said, still holding the Roman down. "I never specified the manner of breaking the cycle, however, if you recall."

"You said that you wanted no future, an end to it all," the Roman pressed, gaining confidence. If Death had wanted to end him, he would have done it by now.

Death seemed to recognize that Cartaphilus had figured this out, and moved the scythe aside, standing up slowly. He reached a hand out to help the Roman up.

Hesitantly, Cartaphilus took it and stood.

"I don't understand."

Death nodded, not looking at him.

"I told you that I needed a new partner," Death said. "I did not deceive yo, but the entirety of the truth is that I needed a mortal, honestly, any mortal with two important factors to aid me in my goal. One; they had to be working within the confines of Free Will. That was a point that God would never concede upon. And two; they had to want to end the life of God Himself."

Cartaphilus shook his head in disbelief. "Wait...are you saying to me, that this was God's idea?"

Death smiled humorously. "Aren't all things, when you boil it down?" He watched as Cartaphilus absorbed this, then nodded in satisfaction. "He needed a way to stop the cycle as well. Creation to destruction – it has played out too many times. He wished to be done with it."

"Then let it end!" Cartaphilus interrupted. "The means are here. The Old Ones are free and..."

Death held up a hand, stopping him. "That would not end the cycle, Roman. It would merely cause it to repeat itself again."

"What...?"

"If the Old Ones win, and destroy God, then all is lost, plunged into Darkness and the Void. No Creation. No Balance."

"Exactly our goal."

"No," Death corrected him," exactly the opposite of it, in fact. What do you think existed - thinking linearly, that is - before the Light?"

Cartaphilus frowned, "Nothingness."

"Exactly. The Void. But when you are thinking linearly, you are only seeing a infinitesimally small part of the pattern of existence, a beginning and an end. In truth, it was only a part of that endless cycle that we have been talking about – Nothingness to Light, back to Nothingness, back to Light. Now, tell me Roman, how do you propose to stop that, now that you are aware that simple destroying everything around you will inevitably lead to the resurrection of the same pattern?"

Cartaphilus started to speak, then stopped, dumbfounded. "I...I do not know. But, then, it sounds like you don't either. And you still promised me my revenge on God..."

Death looked up into the sky. "Not entirely accurate, Cartaphilus. As I told you, we have a plan, God and I."

"To destroy Him? Are you telling me that you and God have planned His own death?"

Death nodded. "That's exactly what I'm telling you. Our plan has been working itself out for the entirety of this manifestation of Creation – from the first Light to the fall of Lucifer, to you stabbing the Son with your Spear, to the Winchesters, to Castiel and Crowley, he and I have engineered all of this. He wants to stop the cycle, just as I do, and, to an extent, you do as well. The biggest question was; how does we do this and still preserve Creation?"

Cartaphilus sighed. "From what you just told me, it's impossible. If everything is consumed by Darkness, it will just be reborn from it."

"So, logically, we needed to find a way to remove God, without removing the entire Universe with it," Death said quietly.

Cartaphilus blinked. "And...you are telling me that you've found a way to do this?"

Death looked down at him.

"I'm telling you that we are doing this right now. And, since you were deranged enough to volunteer to be the instrument of God's destruction, you are in this...'up to your neck', as they are wont to say around here."

Cartaphilus' frown deepened. "How...what can I do?"

Death smiled. "You are doing it already, you foolish man."

Judah frowned. Castiel. He could no longer sense Castiel.

That was a problem. The only explanation for this is that he had been taken by the enemy, intact, no less, because if he had been killed, the Souls of Hell would have been released in a torrent. There would be no mistaking that.

This was a problem.

"Wanna talk about it?" came a voice from the leeway side of the hill. Judah frowned and looked over the rise. His shoulders drooped.

"Wonderful. What do you two want?"

Chuck and Charlie looked up at him from where they sat on the hillside. Ridiculously, a picnic blanket was spread out on the ground underneath them and a basket sat there on it opened up, filled with various lunchtime sundries.

Charlie patted an empty spot on the blanket and smiled at him. "Oh, don't be such a grumpy teenager. Cop a squat."

Judah crossed his arms. "I don't have time for this. The enemy has captured Castiel. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you two the trouble that that will cause, especially considering the artifact that he now carries?"

Chuck narrowed his eyes. "What? Did you seriously think that this would be easy?"

Judah didn't answer.

"I mean, you sensed that there was a manifestation of Darkness here on Earth back in Waco, right? Did you think that something that powerful and malevolent was just going to play along?" Chuck shook his head. "It's going to get it's licks in, you might as well accept that and roll with the punches."

Judah shook his head in disbelief. "Father...truly...'get it's licks in'? This is catastrophic! And this 'manifestation' that you are so casually shrugging off is most likely Nyarlathotep, as you should also be more than aware of as well. He could very easily destroy everything that we've planned..."

Charlie threw up her hands in exasperation. "Yeah, smart-ass, 'cause that's what those frikkin' things do!" She let out a tired breath and patted the spot on the blanket again, harder this time, her eyes going wide. "Now. Sit. Down."

Judah hesitated, then, grudgingly, sat down. Charlie beamed at him and reached into the basket. "Sandwich?"

Judah eyed it and then looked up at her. "You do realize that this is basically me having a conversation with myself, don't you?"

"Way I see it, you...we, are long overdue to have one of those," Chuck replied dryly. "So, whatd'ya say, wanna talk about it?"

Judah considered him for awhile, then slowly reached out for the sandwich that Charlie was holding.

"Cool," she said cheerily, taking a big bite of her own sandwich and chewing happily. "So, where do you want to start?"