Places, Everyone.
The Old One. Nyarlathotep. The Mad Sleeper. The greatest of the Old Gods.
The one that God had locked away for untold millennia, floating and dreaming, plotting and hating, now walked the Earth.
Or, rather, floated three feet above it, inhabiting the form of one Aleister Crowley, cross-legged with his arms extended and his eyes closed, his mind reaching out into the nether, the substance and stuff of thought, searching for and calling out for his servant, his captive...
His Key to escaping the eternal prison that God had thrown him into.
"Castiel..."
Aleister frowned and gritted his teeth.
"CASTIEL."
Sweat broke out on his vessel's brow. His hands clenched, the nails biting into the weak flesh until blood welled up hot and dripping into the palms of his hands.
"CAAAASSSSTTTIEEELLLLL!" he roared, the walls of his sanctuary rumbling, chunks breaking off of it and crashing to the floor.
His eyes flew open and he unfolded his legs beneath him, his feet hitting the floor with a dull thud. He took a deep breath in, looking for all the world that he was attempting to calm himself.
He was actually just gathering his strength.
He flung out his hand and the metal door to his room ripped itself off of it's hinges with a shriek, clattering to the side against a wall. He ran outside into the main hanger, flinging his hands in all directions, ribbons of energy flying from his fingertips, his teeth bared in a rage. The energy ribbons struck members of the Resistance in their heads, and they collapsed instantly to the floor, twitching like insects that had been brutally struck down. Deep Ones also were hit, their skin searing and scorching as they howled in pain. Aleister strode purposefully towards the little group in the corner...toward Rowena and her Coven, the energy now picking up bodies all around him, dead or alive, swirling them in the air like some kind of localized tornado. Some of them hit the sides of the wall with a sickening splat, blood shooting out of them as they died from the impact. Aleister seemed oblivious to this, his eyes set on Rowena and her ilk.
They have done this...somehow, they are at fault...!
Rowena rose slowly to her feet, alarmed, her eyes widening at the chaos and violence that the being was unleashing, holding her arms protectively in front of her. Crowley and Dean lay on the floor, and Aleister glanced briefly in their direction, taking note that Crowley only appeared to be sleeping...he was actually awake and watching him as well.
Fine. All the better.
He reached their group and extended his hand towards Rowena. The hundreds of writhing energy streams around him instantly cut off, dropping bodies to the floor all over the three hundred foot long hanger, cracking and breaking in a sickening cacophony. They refocused as one single, hard beam around Rowena's throat, and she was driven instantly into the wall behind her, suspended a few feet off of the ground. Her eyes bulged in shock and pain and she made a horrific choking sound. Crowley leapt to his feet, ungracefully, and attempted to scramble in between them, but a warning glare from Aleister halted him dead in his tracks, and he skidded to a halt.
"What have you done...?!" Aleister hissed in rage.
Rowena's eyes narrowed in question, and she let out another choking noise, her hands grasping futilely around her neck, her lips already turning a darkish purple. Aleister ripped his hand back behind him, the energy disappeared, and Rowena fell in a heap to the floor, letting out a cry of pain and gasping for air. She looked up in fear at Aleister and tried to crawl back a few feet from him.
He watched her struggle, the anger not dissipating from his eyes.
"Well?"
She shook her head and coughed, a splatter of blood landing on the floor. Her limbs were shaking.
"I...don't...I don't know what..."
"Stop trying to play games with me, or should you like to see more of them die?"
Rowena glared back, a touch of defiance returning to her eyes.
"I canna answer the question if I don't know what yer talking about!" she rasped, rubbing her throat.
"You know damned well what I'm talking about," Aleister growled, advancing. "Castiel...my link to him is severed. That means one of two things. One; that he's dead, which is impossible, as I had instructed the Wild Hunt to bring him back alive, or two; he's hidden from me somehow, which is also impossible as I am the very source of the dark energy that he's carrying inside of him at this moment...which leaves me two impossibilities...along with a very annoying witch who specializes in creating situations like this...which leads me to repeat the question: What. Have. You. DONE?!"
Rowena blinked and her mouth opened and closed slowly, looking even more confused. She shrugged apologetically. "While I can appreciate how this all looks, I can honestly say...at least in this bloody case...that it wasn't me that did this!"
Aleister studied her, the silence hanging like air before a crack of lightning. His eyes narrowed.
"You're not lying..." he whispered.
Rowena stared back. "No. I'm not," she whispered quietly.
Aleister stared a few moments more, then turned slowly away, his head turning to Crowley. He sneered. "Don't get any ideas about leaving yet, Demon. This party hasn't even started yet."
Crowley held his hands up in front of him and shook his head slowly.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Aleister moved past them, some of the crumpled forms, at least, those that were still alive, silently and wordlessly rising back up to stand guard, some of their limbs broken and mangled. Crowley winced and turned away, looking at Rowena as Aleister reached the entrance to his sanctum once again, the ruined door picking itself up off of the ground and straightening itself back into the frame. Crowley let out a deep breath.
"What do you suppose that could have been about?" he asked as Rowena continued to stare at the closed portal, hugging herself and still visibly shuddering.
"I don't know, like I said," she answered, shaking her head. She gave Crowley a disapproving look when he narrowed his eyes at her. "Honestly Fergus, I don't think I could lie to that creature even if I wanted ta. It would know."
He watched her then sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Fine, I believe you," he said, resigned, looking around at the remaining guards. "But that means that Castiel is most likely dead."
Rowena's brow furrowed. "Why do ye say that?"
Crowley smiled humorously. "Because he isn't clever enough to hide himself from both Aleister and the Wild Hunt, that's why."
Cartaphilus paced back and forth on the ground, furiously trying to think of a next move. The Huntsman stood silently a few feet away, a dark slash against the twilight sky, the members of the Hunt prowling around him like a living shroud.
"He's with God, you say?"
The Huntsman inclined his head.
"And you say you cannot follow..." he turned his head and studied the Huntsman. "Why?"
"He is between worlds."
Cartaphilus shook his head, confused. "'Between worlds'? What does that mean? Is he hsalf alive, half dead?"
"No."
The Roman waited, then smiled patronizingly. "Feel free to elaborate."
The Huntsman tilted his head to the side. "I shall."
The silence stretched out between them.
"Now!" Cartaphilus shouted, his voice echoing in the near-dark. Several animal mounts in the Hunt snarled in reply or whinnied, startled. The Huntsman was as still as a marble statue, his red eyes that shone in his helm, however, gleamed in a way that suggested mirth. A vein started pulsing in Cartaphilus' temple, his fist curling around the pommel of his weapon.
"God is in a place between Creation and the Void. He is at the Gate," The Huntsman said at last. "It it a place of God's own mind, and thus I cannot follow."
Cartaphilus eyed him, relaxing his grip. He began to pace again. "You can't go there, but Castiel can..." he began, halting and turning his head back slowly to the Huntsman. "Why?"
"Castiel is an Angel. He is akin to God, a part of Him. He can go there. I cannot."
Cartaphilus sighed and then looked around, finding Gabriel, who was standing at the periphery of the Hunt, staring blankly at nothing. The Roman pointed.
"What about him? Could he go there and bring him back to us?"
The Huntsman nodded. "Of course. He is also of God's blood. He could do this."
The Roman smiled triumphantly and stalked over to Gabriel, standing in front of him. Gabriel stared off into the distance. The Roman frowned.
"Gabriel?"
There was no answer.
He waved his hand in front of Gabriel's face. Still no response.
"Can he hear me?" Cartaphilus asked, frustrated, turning towards the Huntsman.
"I assume so. His ears are unharmed."
Cartaphilus grinned evilly. "Adorable. What I mean is, can he hear my orders, or yours? Will he obey them?"
The Huntsman shrugged his massive shoulders. "If he thinks it'S important to completing the Hunt, then yes, he will."
"What in all of the blazing Hells does that mean?!" the Roman asked, stalking over. The Huntsman regarded him calmly. "Will he or won't he?" He cocked his head, looking around at Sam, sitting in the drivers seat of the Impala, then locating Cain, who was, like Gabriel, standing and staring at nothing in particular, his eyes unfocused and glazed over.
"As a matter of fact, what is wrong with all of them? They've been like this since the moment that they joined the Wild Hunt."
The Huntsman's eyes glittered. "The Hunt, has perhaps, consumed them?"
Cartaphilus tilted his head, his lip curling at the corner. "I see. And why has this not happened to me? I joined the Hunt as well, but I am the only one among my group that still appears..." he waved a hand in front of Gabriel's eyes again and frowned. "...cognizant of my surroundings."
The Huntsman lowered his massive helm to regard the Roman. "They are waiting to complete their mission and claim their Prize. When they have done so, their sense will return."
Cartaphilus, unintimidated by the being that towered over him, leaned closer, crooking a finger. The Huntsman leaned closer. "You are avoiding my question. I asked you; why haven't I been similarly affected?"
There was a rumbling from the Huntsman that the Roman had come to recognize as laughter. He glared back, not flinching away. "Well?"
"You have a different mission. A different Prize to win. You do not need to be in this state to accomplish it. You were spared this." He shook his massive head. "That is the truth, Roman, whether you will listen to it or not."
Cartaphilus leaned back, considering. He nodded. "Fine. Then answer the other part of my question; will he obey yours or my commands?"
"He is bound to the Hunt. He will obey." With that, the Huntsman walked a few paces towards Gabriel, standing in front of him. He raised his hand in front of him, pointing at the sky.
"Archangel. To complete your mission, you must meet Castiel. He is with God, at the place of the joining, at the Gate." At this Gabriel turned his head to the Huntsman and looked up at the sky.
"You must go to him there. The Hunt cannot follow. Bring him back, alive and whole, along with the Souls of Hell, as we have been tasked."
Gabriel nodded dully, then with a flutter of unseen wings, he was gone. The Huntsman watched the sky for a few moments, then lowered his head and turned back to Cartaphilus.
"It is done. He will return with your Prize."
The Roman smiled. "See? Now was that so hard?"
Castiel...
CASTIEL...
CAAAASSSSTTTIEEELLLLL...
Castiel heard the voices calling to him, frantic now, but they were fading, leaving him in blessed silence, only whispers in the dark of his mind. He nearly wept at the relief of it.
He was walking up a grassy, sunny hill. Butterflies flew around his head and he noticed a few bees buzzing around, collecting pollen from flowers. He couldn't help but smile at the tranquil scene as he clutched the cold Tablet to his chest. He heard voices on the lee of the large hill and was moving towards them, breathing in the fresh, clean, autumn-like air.
He stopped as he crested the hill, puzzled by what he found there.
Chuck, Charlie and Judah were seated on a large, plaid blanket set neatly on a flat spot near the leeward side. Charlie was lying on her back, smiling, Chuck was smiling up at Castiel, and Judah was eyeing a sandwich in his hand like it was a ancient puzzle box in need of solving.
Charlie sat up and smiled widely at Castiel.
"Hey there, Castiel! You made it! Do you want a sandwich?"
Judah looked up at him and frowned, and Chuck rummaged around inside of a picnic basket and came out with a sandwich, deli meat and cheese hanging out of the sides, and dripping a bit of mayo. He smiled, holding it out for him.
"Come on. It won't bite back. And we don't want it going stale now. C'mon son, sit down."
Castiel took a hesitant step forward, then stopped.
"What's...what's going on here...?"
Charlie smiled, eyes twinkling. "End game, trooper. Boss fight coming up. You're gonna need some carbs. Sit on down." Her smile widened as she patted an empty spot on the blanket vigorously.
Castiel waited, then found himself moving forward and sitting down with them. He let out a breath and met their eyes.
"I have...so many questions..."
Chuck grinned. "Yeah, I figured as much."
Judah nodded and grimaced seriously. "We must prepare him."
Charlie rolled her eyes. "Draaaama." She smiled at Castiel. "Yeah, we've got a lot to talk about..." Her eyes flicked up to the top of the hill. Castiel looked around and saw a figure suddenly appear there, silhouetted against the sky, unmoving. Charlie huffed out a breath.
"...and time's just about up."