Chapter 4 - Tryin' To Get To Heaven
Cas and Gail parted ways in the morning. As she had advised, she had decided to go down to the bunker to see if Sam and Dean could take her to Quinn's place, to talk to Oliver. She could let him know that she had finished reading his journal, and ask him any questions she might have before releasing him from Quinn's house. Gail had promised to call Cas immediately if his help was needed for anything. It was only after he'd received that assurance from her that he was able to let her go. She would be in good hands with the Winchesters.
Meanwhile, there were a number of people on Cas's list that he wanted to attend to personally. The problem was, when he sent out The Eye to look in the Garden, the first person he was looking for wasn't there.
Gail explained to Sam that she was flying solo today, and Sam smiled. "Maybe it's just as well. Oliver's an Atheist. Remember?"
She was taken aback for a moment, and then she did remember that when she had initially met the man, that was what he had said. She had to keep reminding herself that the whole Demon thing had never happened. So as it turned out, the only time she had met Oliver aside from watching him die in that theatre in L.A. was years ago, when Sam had taken her to what was Oliver's house at the time. She'd thought that Oliver had been looking at her strangely because she was an Angel, but perhaps there had been more to it than that. He had been a psychic, hadn't he? Maybe he had sensed that they were related, even though neither of them would have known it at the time.
But now, Gail couldn't help but laugh at the idea of taking God to see an Atheist. As it was, she wondered, if Oliver was able to move on, exactly where would he go? How many millions of souls were waiting in the Garden, and how was Cas going to decide who went where? But her head started to hurt when she thought too much about that, so she stopped. Maybe it was just as well she hadn't been elected, after all.
"Come on, Dean!" she called down the hall. "Let's go!"
"Keep your wings on," he said, coming down the hall to the library area where she and Sam were waiting. He looked around. "Hey, where's the Almighty? I thought maybe he'd be picking us up in a white limo, or something."
Gail rolled her eyes. "Really? Why, are you scared that if I get into Baby, I'll want to drive?"
Dean gave her a sarcastic smile. "Go down the hall to the weapons room, get the shotgun, and pump about ten shells into me. Then, do the same to Sammy. And THEN you can drive my car."
Gail grinned. "Nahhh, forget it. You'd just be ascended, and then you'd be running around Heaven, harassing me for all eternity. Drive on, MacDuff."
They walked to the garage and got into the Impala. Gail was still smiling. It had been ages since she'd ridden in this car. She recalled all the other times she'd been in the back, either alone, or with Cas.
Dean turned on the ignition, and the radio blasted on immediately. "Dude! Come on!" Sam objected. Dean snapped off the radio, prompting a look of surprise from his brother.
"I wanna hear about what was in that journal," Dean said, pulling the car out of the garage.
Gail sighed. "I'm not sure you do," she said, making a face. But she started to tell them the story, and by the time she got to the part about the snake, Dean had nearly driven into the ditch on the two-lane road.
"Get outta here!" Dean exclaimed. "They cut him open and put a snake in him? You're making that up!"
"Actually, that's pretty plausible," Sam remarked. "There are lots of cult rituals that involve the handling and milking of snakes."
"God! Shut up!" Dean said, screwing his face up in disgust. Gail smiled faintly. She remembered that Dean had a "thing" about snakes. "That's the grossest, most disgusting thing I've ever heard," Dean continued, shaking his head vigorously as if to get the image out of his brain.
Gail made another face. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? But, fasten your seat belt. Well, so to speak. You may have to pull over to puke once I tell you the rest of it."
Once she'd finished the entire story, the brothers were silent for a moment, digesting what she'd said. They'd seen and heard a lot of really bizarre things in their lifetimes, but this one might just be the topper.
"I know, right?" Gail said quietly. "I really think we need to run some kind of Suckiest Dad competition. I'd win, every year."
As soon as Dean parked on the sidewalk in front of Quinn's house, they all got out of the car and Sam pulled Gail to him immediately for a hug. Then Dean shouldered his brother aside, and did the same.
"Thanks," Dean said to her.
"What for?" Gail asked him, puzzled.
"For making our dad look like Father Of The Year," Dean wisecracked.
"Shut up, Dean," she said automatically, and the two of them exchanged a smile.
"Let's go see your uncle, the ghost," Sam said, joining in the banter. "Are you sure you guys aren't the Addams Family? Maybe you should dress up like Morticia for Hallowe'en."
Dean smirked. "Can you picture Cas as Gomez? We'll have to get him a cheesy moustache."
"Sounds good to me," Gail said, looking up at the two brothers. "I'll just sit in a big chair and he can kiss me all the way up and down my arms. You guys won't mind the sight of that, will you?"
Dean frowned. "On second thought, maybe we'll just stick your hand in a box and you can be Thing, instead."
"Fine, but I can't guarantee which finger I'll be using when I point things out to you," she retorted.
The three of them laughed, and Quinn opened the door to greet them.
Cas couldn't believe it. He'd spent all that time looking for Paul in the Garden, and here Paul was, in Purgatory.
As soon as The Eye had detected Paul in the forest, fighting off a pack of werewolves, Cas popped into the realm to help in the fight. But now that Cas was God, it wasn't much of a contest. As soon as he appeared, all Cas had to do was wave his arm at the whole pack. The white light shot out from his fingertips and the monsters all fell to the forest floor, dead.
Paul stared at him, open-mouthed. "Well, that's new," he remarked, trying to play it cool. "Where were you earlier, when I was running from that Leviathan?" Then he frowned. "I'm sorry to see you here, Castiel. How's our little lady bearing up? Who was the dirty bastard that got you?"
Cas looked at him, bemused. Paul obviously thought that Cas was dead, and that he had been slated for Purgatory to do some penance. Not an unreasonable assumption, considering. But he told Paul that he was God now, and Paul's jaw dropped again. "Holy moly," he said softly. "Now I'm glad I didn't yell at you, when you first got here. Hey, at the risk of sounding too Biblical, will you walk with me to the water? I need to get washed up. Especially if I'm in the presence of the Almighty. I guess my African brothers and sisters were ahead of their time on that one."
Cas smiled. "I'll tell you what. I'll do you one better, as the expression goes. How would you like to wash up in the waters of the Garden, instead?"
Paul started to smile.
The four of them were sitting around the seance table holding hands, but it was more or less just a formality. As soon as they'd all sat down, Oliver appeared.
"I'm glad to see you," Oliver said to Gail immediately. "Have you read it?"
"Yes, I have," she told him. "It's one hell of a story. So, how much of it is actually true?"
"All of it," he said, agitated.
"Great," she remarked wryly. "I was really hoping you were going to tell me you were just trying to write a script for a horror movie."
"I'm sorry, but, no," he said, with a hint of irritation in his voice now. She wasn't the only one who was affected by this whole thing, and he didn't like his veracity being called into question.
"Do you have any questions for Oliver?" Quinn asked Gail.
"Only about a million," the Angel sighed. "But the first thing I want to know is: Is Rob my half-brother?"
"Rob? Who's Rob?" Oliver asked her.
"We think he's one of the kids your ex-wife sold, Uncle Ollie," Dean said sarcastically.
"I had nothing to do with that entire operation," Oliver said, raising his voice.
"Why didn't you tell Gail about any of this before?" Sam said angrily. "Or me, even? I've known you for years!"
Quinn looked at her boyfriend. His jaw was clenched, and he had squeezed her hand a little too tightly for a moment. Actually, there was no need for any of them to be holding hands, she realized. Oliver was practically her roommate by now. She extricated her hand from Sam's, and then they all followed suit.
"I told you; I didn't know," Oliver said in a sulky voice. "I'm the victim, here. My brother came into my house, announced that he was a High Priest of voodoo, and broke up my marriage. He told me he'd killed our parents, and he would kill me too, if I told anyone! So, I wrote it all down in my journal, but after I did that, he was looking at me strangely, saying I'd better not cross him, or we'd all regret it. So I redacted what I had written, and then he waved some kind of weird-looking bag over my head, and then I forgot all about...everything."
Dean looked at his brother. "Hex bag?" he asked Sam.
Sam gave him a half-shrug. "Maybe. I'll have to do some research. See if I can find any voodoo cults that use those."
"I'm sorry, Gail," Oliver said now, in a more subdued voice. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way. And I'm sorry you have such a poor excuse for a family."
Gail sighed. "OK, Oliver. I know it's not your fault. But, do you know anything about Vincent now? Like, where he is, or what he's doing?"
"Have you talked to Andy? Or Abigail?" Oliver asked.
"Where is Andy now? Is he still in the mental hospital? And who's Abigail?" Gail said, curious.
"I have to go," Oliver said abruptly. He disappeared and suddenly, the room was plunged into darkness. Quinn rose from her chair, intending to open the drapes and turn on the lights, but she was slammed back into her seat by an invisible force. Then, Sam yelled loudly. He'd had his hands splayed out on the table, and now, he felt two knives sinking into his flesh, one per hand, pinning him to the table. The pain was excruciating. Dean tried to vault from his chair towards Sam, but he was restrained by something that was wrapping itself around his neck. His hands flew to his throat as he sought to loosen the garrote, but the more he struggled, the tighter it became.
Gail pulled her blade out of her pocket and said the Enochian words to light up the tip. By its faint glow, she could make out Quinn, struggling to get up from her chair. Poor Sam was pinned to the table by two daggers, one in each hand, and he was grimacing in pain. Dean was clutching at his throat, trying to loosen a leather strap that was crushing his windpipe.
"Let my friends go!" Gail shouted.
"Now, why on earth would I want to do that?" Vincent said, with amusement in his voice.
Cas and Paul were standing by the stream in the Garden now. Paul was washing the dirt and blood from his hands and face. Then he stood, stretching his body, and looked around. "I sure do prefer it here," he said to Cas. "Nobody lurking behind a tree, looking to kick your ass."
"It is very serene," Cas agreed. They were silent for a moment, and then he said, "I'm a little bit puzzled, Paul. I don't know why you were in Purgatory again."
"YOU don't know?" Paul said, raising an eyebrow. "One minute I'm sacrificing myself to Lucifer to save our little Boo, and the next minute I'm in Purgatory, fightin' off monster after monster and wondering how long the road to redemption really is."
Cas gave him a thin smile. "Well, you'll be glad to know that we vanquished Lucifer, and everyone is fine. You helped us quite a lot, and I am personally beholden to you for saving our 'Boo', a couple of times," he said, his lips twitching.
"Well, Yissa? What are we waiting for, then? Let's go," Paul urged.
But Cas was frowning now. Maybe he was being a little hasty. Why wouldn't Paul have already been waiting in the Garden? "What are you not telling me, Paul?" he asked the man.
"Why? What do you mean?" Paul asked, and now there was a bit of an edge to his voice. "Nothing!"
"Then why were you in Purgatory? You should have been here, in the Garden," Cas said, thinking furiously. "I even went back to the mansion and took your vessel back to my old Board office in Heaven, in preparation for your ascension."
"I appreciate that, Castiel, but if that's the case, then, where the hell have you been all this time?" Paul fumed. "I've been fighting - "
"Yes, yes, I know. You already told me," Cas interrupted him. "But, there has to be a reason you were sent to Purgatory again, instead of here."
"Well, I'll be damned if I know what it is," Paul said, frustrated. "If you're God, shouldn't YOU know? Look, Cas, I don't know what more you could want from me. I helped you out in Paris, and in Romania, then with the death squads, AND in Lucifer's mansion. I died twice for you, alone. Even Malcolm X and Dr. King only had to die once! And then, I STILL go to Purgatory? What the hell kind of b.s. is that? If I was white, I would have already been in Heaven by now!"
Cas let out a frustrated breath. "Perhaps I made a mistake by bringing you here. I had thought that we would have been beyond discussion of race, by now."
"That's because you're looking at it from the white side of things," Paul shot back.
Cas had opened his mouth to fire something back in return when he got the urgent call from Gail on their frequency. "I'll be back. Stay right here," he ordered Paul sternly. Then he disappeared, as Paul stood there, gaping.
"You're an inquisitive little thing, aren't you?" Vincent said to Gail. He was standing across the table from her behind Sam and Dean, holding his hands up above their heads, as if they were marionettes he was controlling. "Asking questions that are none of your business. When I'm ready for you, my daughter, I will call you, and you will come. Until then, keep your nose out of my affairs."
"You obviously don't know me very well," she retorted. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you don't scare me."
"Really?" Vincent said. "Well, aren't you cute." He rotated his wrists, and the knives in Sam's hands twisted. Sam grunted in pain. Dean's collar twisted, and he made a strangled noise.
Gail pointed her blade at Vincent, and the golden ray shot out of its tip when she spoke the ancient language again. She pointed the beam at Vincent's left hand, burning a hole in his palm. Immediately, the leather garrote sprang off Dean's neck, and he started to cough and retch.
Then Gail pointed the laser beam at Vincent's other hand, doing the same thing, and the knives in Sam's hands stopped twisting.
Vincent flung his arms out towards Gail, and the ray of light extinguished from her blade. Then he stared at her, smiling slowly. "She likes to play. Excellent," he said. Then he crooked his finger. "Come here, my daughter."
Gail popped herself over to the other side of the table, charging Vincent. She shoved him against the wall and put her blade to his throat. Still, he was smiling. Oh, well. That was all right. She was used to enemies not taking her seriously. If this was the movies, she and her father would exchange ominous, vague threats. Then Vincent would overpower her and then disappear, or hold her hostage, or something. But if anybody, even Chuck or Metatron, tried to write Gail's life as a movie script, nobody would believe that this kind of crap kept happening to her. When was enough going to be enough, already?
She flipped the blade in her hand to change the grip as Cas had taught her how to do, and she was astonished for a split second when she was successful. Every time she and Cas had practiced the move, she had fumbled, and dropped the blade. Every damn time.
But there was no time to rejoice. Gail had the blade gripped firmly in her fist now, and she drove it into Vincent's chest where his black heart would be, with every ounce of Angel oomph she had. His mouth fell open in surprise, and he yelled in pain.
Dean pumped his fist in victory, though he was still unable to speak. He was still having some trouble breathing, even though his throat was no longer blocked.
Sam was still pinned to the table, but he would have still tried to struggle free if he'd thought that Gail had needed his help. But she seemed to be doing just fine. He watched as she gave the knife a twist, to inflict maximum pain and damage, and then a wiggle, to pull it out of the guy's chest. Despite the massive amount of pain he was in, Sam grinned briefly. If Vincent thought that Gail would be a cream puff due to her big brown eyes and diminutive size, he had sure found out differently. Now Gail would finish him off, and they could get on with their other business.
But that didn't happen, of course. They had all forgotten, in the heat of the moment. When Gail pulled the knife out of Vincent's chest and drew her arm back to inflict another stab wound, Vincent grabbed her knife hand with his bleeding, holey one. "I thought you had read my brother's magnum opus," he said calmly. "Points for trying, though." He was staring deeply into her eyes. "Take that knife you're so fond of, and cut yourself on the cheek with it. Not a big cut; just enough for you to bleed."
Gail laughed shortly. "I don't take orders from you, you baby-killing bastard."
"No?" Vincent said mildly. "We'll see about that." He flung his free arm in Dean's direction and a big black and red snake appeared on the floor in front of Dean's chair.
"That snake answers to me, and me alone," Vincent said to Gail. "It has the poison of a thousand snakes in just one drop of its venom. Your friend would be dead before he even hit the floor. Even your Sainted husband would be unable to save him. And if you tried to use the revival spell on him again, he would come back as a drooling, raving lunatic. Now, cut your cheek. I will not tell you again."
Gail brought the knife up towards herself, scrunched up her face, and raked the tip down her cheek. Then Vincent put his bloody palm on her bleeding cheek.
"My blood is your blood, and your blood is my blood," he said. "You will come, and you will do as I say. But, I have to tell you that I am very impressed with what you have shown me here today." He bent forward, bringing his face closer to hers. Gail had stopped struggling now. She couldn't seem to look away from his eyes.
Vincent licked the blood from her cheek. "When you get to the designated place, I might just have to see if you're this feisty with your clothes off. That might be the only taboo I haven't broken, yet."
Gail screamed in her head for Cas to come. She'd thought she could handle this guy by herself, and she almost had. But now he had mesmerized her somehow, and he was in total control at the moment. Cas needed to put Vincent down, before things got even more out of hand.
An instant later, there was a blinding flash of white light. Vincent was flung away from Gail, clear across the room. He hit the wall with a crash as Cas strode towards him, blade in hand. Before Gail had the chance to say anything, Cas had already stabbed Vincent in the chest, three times.
Gail's father smiled. "What an Alpha couple you are. Very intense, Castiel. I was hoping to be able to meet with you, face to face. That was the whole point of this little exercise. My daughter is a magnificent creature, isn't she? And you're no less impressive, yourself. But you realize, of course, that I'm immortal, right? God or not, you can't kill me."
"Oh, no? Well, let's test that theory, shall we?" Cas said sarcastically. He put his hand on Vincent's head and the bright white glow came out again, suffusing Vincent's body. Vincent screamed, and the occupants of the seance room could smell his flesh burning. Cas kept his hand there for several minutes, and then he finally removed it.
Vincent's body was smoking, but he was grinning. "That was fantastic," he remarked. "Very Godlike, Castiel. Or, do you prefer Cas? You're sexy when you get angry. But I'm sure my daughter has already told you that. She IS my daughter, after all."
Cas stabbed Vincent several more times, then applied another smiting. And still, the man grinned his horrible grin. "You cannot kill me, Cas," Vincent said happily. "As long as any of my children live, so will I. And, that's one hell of a lot of children. I'm not even sure myself, but I might have hit triple digits, by now. Yet, not one Father's Day card. Ungrateful little bastards."
Cas's jaw was working now. It was a good thing that God couldn't have a stroke, because he was so angry that he felt like every blood vessel in his head was going to explode, all at once. He stabbed Vincent again, then twisted the knife viciously.
"You disappoint me," Vincent said disdainfully. "I thought you realized: you can do that until your arm grows tired, but you cannot kill me."
"I know," Cas said, smiling slowly. The glint came to his eyes, and then he twisted the knife again, and then pulled it down. "I also happen to know that what I'm doing to you now is extremely painful, and I am happy to continue doing it."
Vincent faltered for a moment. Castiel was right; the pain was excruciating. Vincent had received expert training in pain suppression from Placida, and then, at Papa Legba's hands, but it was obvious that Castiel was no stranger to torture, either. And there was that look in his eyes, and that smile. This was God?
"Things are about to get a lot more interesting," Vincent said, as calmly as he could. He grinned once more, then snapped his fingers and disappeared, before he could give away how much pain he was in.
Everyone let out a breath. "Are you all right?" Cas said, rushing over to Gail. He put his hand on her cheek, healing her cut. "Are you otherwise hurt?"
"No, Cas," she assured him.
"Cas..." Dean said in a strangled voice. His friend turned around.
The black and red snake was still there on the floor in front of where Dean was sitting, and it was coiled up, weaving from side to side, as if preparing to strike at any moment.
Cas threw his blade down on the floor. "I apologize in advance, my love," he said to Gail. He said the off-colour Enochian phrase, and his blade turned into a snake. It attacked the snake that was menacing Dean, and killed it. Then Cas spoke the phrase in reverse, and the snake turned back into his blade. He bent and picked it up as Dean rasped, "Thanks, buddy."
"Sweetie, can you help me out here, please?" Gail said now. She had rushed over to help Sam while Cas was helping Dean, but she couldn't get the knives out of the table; they were imbedded too deeply. And she didn't want to wriggle them around to try to loosen them. Poor Sam had sat there stoically this whole time, but he had beads of sweat on his forehead, and he was grimacing with pain.
Cas snapped his fingers, and both the knives in Sam's hands and the snake's carcass disappeared. Gail looked at him with wide eyes. That was new. Then she immediately turned to Sam, and took his hands in hers. He winced. "I'm sorry, Sam," she said, making a face. The golden glow came from her hands and healed him, and they both breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at each other. "Let me see?" Gail said to him, and he held his hands up in front of her, flexing them. They both smiled again. Then she ran her hands over him, cleaning up the blood.
Quinn was crying, and Sam went to comfort her as Gail approached Cas and Dean. Cas put his hand gently around Dean's throat, and the white glow came out, healing Dean's vocal cords.
"Are you OK, Dean?" Gail asked him. He cleared his throat experimentally. "Yeah, I think so," he told her.
"Check his pants. I think he might have crapped them, when that snake showed up," Sam wisecracked, and Dean popped him the middle finger.
"You know what? Sometimes, I really miss Lucifer," Gail quipped. There was stunned silence for a moment. "What? Too soon?" she persisted. Finally, Dean smirked, and he pulled her to him for a hug. "I swear, you and Frank must be related, somehow," he said to her.
"You should have seen Gail, Cas," Sam said to their friend. "She stood right up to him. You would have been proud of her."
"What happened here?" Cas said angrily. They all started telling him about the sudden and scary appearance of Gail's father, and what he had said and done. Cas's eyes flashed.
"Then she called him a baby-killing bastard," Dean said, with pride in his voice. "And then he conjured up that freakin' snake, and he told her that she had to cut herself, or he was gonna have it attack me."
"So I debated for about half an hour, and then I cut myself," Gail joked. Man, she wished Frank was here. He was missing some really good ones.
Cas was appalled, and his mood didn't improve when Gail told him what Vincent had said and done after that. He took her hand and squeezed it gently.
"And that's when you got here," Sam finished.
Cas put his arms around Gail and pulled her close. He couldn't believe it. What a truly horrifying experience that must have been. "I'm so sorry, my darling," he said softly. "I should have been here with you, from the very beginning."
She pulled out of the embrace, looking at his face. "No, sweetie. What you're doing is very important. I'm just sorry I had to pull you away from it."
"That's all right," he replied. "I was at a bit of an impasse, anyway. Once we're done here, I want you to come with me. Maybe you can help me solve the dilemma I was having when you called."
Gail eyed him suspiciously. Was that just an excuse to keep her with him? Then she realized that she didn't really care. This incident had actually scared her very badly. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, she was starting to tremble.
"Here," he said, pulling out the nearest chair for her. "Sit down. Please." Cas seated his wife, and then he looked at Quinn. "Are you all right, Quinn?"
Sam's girlfriend nodded slowly. "I guess so, Cas. But I think I'm regretting my choice of careers right now, though."
"I'm sorry, everyone," Oliver said, reappearing suddenly in the middle of the room.
"Explain yourself," Cas said angrily.
"I can't control what my brother does," Oliver protested. "No one can."
"Well, anyway, now that Gail's read your journal, we should be able to put you to rest," Sam said to the ghost. "Where were you buried?"
"Why do you ask?" Oliver inquired warily.
"'Cause, if you want us to send you on your way, Uncle Ollie, we've gotta burn your bones," Dean said grumpily. "And, as far as I'm concerned, you could bring your brother, and we could have a great big bonfire."
"NO! Don't burn my bones! You can't!" Oliver exclaimed, panicked.
"We have to, Oliver," Sam said in a calm, reasonable tone. "I know, it sounds weird, but don't worry. You won't feel anything. That's not you, not any more. But that's how it's done. If you want to move on from this house, we have to destroy your last tether to this world."
"But you can't burn my bones," Oliver said again.
"Why the hell not?!" Dean yelled. He'd had it with this guy. Talk about being an ungrateful bastard. He'd been bugging them this whole time about wanting to move on. Now they were telling him they were gonna help him do it, and he was telling them to forget it.
"I don't know," Oliver said vaguely. "I only know that you shouldn't."
"You know what? I'm really sick of all of you guys, right now," Gail fumed. "As far as I'm concerned, you can just move in here, and start paying Quinn rent. Maybe share a Netflix subscription. Watch Ghostbusters, and Poltergeist. I don't care. I don't owe you anything. I don't even know you." She got up and stalked out of the room.
Cas threw Oliver a glare, and then he followed Gail outside. "I mean it, Cas, I'm fed up," she said to him.
"I know, my love," he responded.
"What the hell do these people want from me?" she continued to rant. "I didn't ask to be born into this screwed-up family! The Manson Family would be better role models!"
"It hurts me that these people are biological relations to you," Cas said quietly. "But, I am your family, and Frank and Jody, and Sam and Dean, and all of them, Gail. Not him. Not him."
He opened up his arms, and she walked into them, nodding her head. Cas was right. She let him hold her for a moment until she stopped shaking, and then she pulled out of the embrace. "I guess we'd better get back in there," she sighed. "I guess I should make nice with Quinn, so Sam doesn't wind up in the doghouse." She touched Cas's face. "You know, at some point, we're going to have to talk about what you did in there."
"I know," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "I definitely have some undiscovered additional powers now, that must be commensurate with the Office. I won't have all of Father's powers, of course. None of his successors have done. But that's only right. There is only one Supreme Being, after all. I think Bobby said it best when he said: 'I'm not God; I just have his job.' Still, it will be nice to slowly discover the additional things that I am capable of doing."
Gail smiled. "Everything you say is true, but I was specifically alluding to the fact that you were sexy as hell in there."
Cas smiled faintly, taking her hand. "Do you think so?"
"Of course I do," she said, giving his hand a squeeze. "In fact, after you liberate a bunch of souls from the Garden, I think you're going to have to liberate me from my clothes, if that's not too cheesy of a thing to say."
Cas gazed lovingly at his wife. She was amazing. After the horrible ordeal she had just been through at her own father's hands, she was still able to joke, and tease. "We can definitely talk about that," he said in a light tone. He drew her to him for a kiss.
"Oh, look, they're kissing. Alert the presses," Dean said sarcastically. He and Sam were coming out of the house, closing the front door behind them.
"Oliver's gone, and Quinn kicked us out," Sam told them. "She said she wanted to be alone for a while."
"I'm sorry, Sam," Gail said, frowning. "I hope she's not too upset with me."
"You? Why would she be upset with you? You didn't do anything wrong," Sam said firmly. Dean looked at his brother. Sam was right, of course, but the hell of it was, it had seemed like Quinn HAD been blaming Gail, in a way. But, they probably just needed to let Quinn settle down for a bit. She might think that she was used to this kind of thing because she owned a few occult objects and called forth benign spirits of loved ones, but Quinn had no idea what kind of evil they were dealing with, here. And Dean ought to know. He'd been face to face and toe to toe with the worst evil there was. Or so he'd thought, anyway.
Gail made a face. "I still feel bad, though. If there's anything I can do to make it up to her..."
"It'll be OK," Sam said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "She just needs a little time. Dean and I are going back to the bunker. Are you guys coming with?"
"No, Sam. I have to get back, and I want Gail to come with me," Cas said soberly. "As long as the two of you are all right."
"We're fine, Cas. Don't worry about us," Dean told his friend.
"Yeah, we're OK," Sam agreed. Then his lips twitched. "We just have to hurry up and get home, so Dean can change his pants."
"Why would Dean need to - " Cas started to say, and then he got it. "Oh. That's very amusing, Sam."
Dean grumbled something to Cas about possibly smiting his younger brother, just once, as Sam pulled Gail in to him for a hug. "You were great, in there," he told her. "Don't worry; we've got your back with this guy. There's no way we're gonna let him do anything to you."
Gail smiled. "Thanks, Sam."
"I can't wait to tell Frank about this," Dean remarked. "He needs to know what a badass his little sister really is. And, Cas? What you did back there? Man, he's gonna be sorry he missed that."
"You make it sound as though it was entertainment," Cas chided him. "But if this man is a real threat, we will have to figure out what to do about him. Unfortunately, it would appear as if his claims of immortality are true. I gave him everything I had, as the saying goes. And yet, he lives."
"OK, well, give us a call once you finish your thing, and we'll talk," Dean said, clapping Cas on the shoulder. Then he looked at Gail. "Thanks for what you did in there, Mrs. Buzzkill. Don't worry. Sammy's right. We've got your back. Not that you need the backup, though. We should probably just put you alone in a room with that guy for about ten minutes. He'd be banging on the door, screaming for our help."
Gail moved to Dean and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Say hi to Frank for us," she said to him. "And if he makes one snake joke too many, just let me know, and I'll have Cas put him on the S-list."
The brothers laughed. She had made that joke before, but it was still funny. They all said their goodbyes, and then Cas and Gail winked themselves away.
Cas winked Gail to a secluded place in the Garden, away from all the souls that were still awaiting disposition there. She looked around. What a pretty place. They were in a shady glen by the stream, and Cas waved his hand now, and a bench appeared on the path near the water. He took Gail by the hand and led her by the hand over to the bench, sitting her down. They sat quietly for a moment, and Gail let the serenity of the place wash over her. It was a welcome respite, after the trauma of what they'd just experienced.
Cas smiled. "Do you remember our reunion here, after the incident in Las Vegas?"
Gail's mouth dropped open. "That was HERE? Yes, of course I remember it, Cas."
"I was so happy to see you. I thought that I had lost you," he said quietly. "I know that sometimes you think I'm overprotective, but it seems as if every time you and I are apart, someone is threatening you." He turned to her. "You are my whole life. Please understand that. If anything were to happen to you, I don't know what I would..." His voice thickened, and he cleared his throat. "I may be God now, but I still do not have the power of revival. Every day I pray to our Father to relent and return that power to me, and every day, the silence is deafening. Yet, Crowley still retains that power. The logic escapes me."
Gail understood how her husband felt. "Me too, sweetie." She sighed. "Maybe our Father wants to leave him with the opportunity to do the right thing, to keep him from going completely black."
Cas was surprised by her insight. "I had not thought of it that way before," he mused. "Perhaps you're right."
Gail was looking at him suspiciously now. He was speaking a little more formally now, which usually signified that he felt uncomfortable. "What is it, Cas?" she asked him. "What's the matter?"
"I couldn't kill him, Gail," he replied. "I'm God, yet I couldn't kill him. Why not? And, how can I protect you from Vincent, if he is indeed immortal?"
She sighed again. "I don't know, Cas. We're going to have to brainstorm about that, I guess. But in the meantime, I need you to do me a favour."
"What's that?" he asked her.
"Can you give me a kiss?" she said, smiling.
Cas thawed a little. He slid his arms around her and drew her to him, kissing her on the lips. "I love you, and I only want you to be all right," he told her. "Will you please stay with me for a while?"
"Yes, of course I will, Cas," Gail replied, nestling herself into his arms.
They sat there like that for a few more minutes, enjoying the shade and the gentle sound of the stream tricking by, and then Cas said, "I need your help." He told her about the situation with Paul, and Gail shook her head slowly.
"In a way, I don't blame him for being mad," she remarked. "He did help us an awful lot, Cas. I felt terrible when Lucifer killed him that way. So THAT'S what you did, when you went back there that day? And, he's the first person you looked for? That's sweet, Cas."
He gave her a tight smile. "I don't believe that Paul would agree with you; not at the moment, anyway. But, how could I not seek to reward him? He saved your life on more than one occasion, and he helped us along the way to defeating Lucifer numerous times, at great risk to himself." Then Cas frowned. "Yet, he still went back to Purgatory, instead of coming here. So, I asked him if there was something he hadn't told me about, and he got angry. He said he would have been in Heaven already, if he was white."
Gail rolled her eyes. "Not THAT again," she said, making a face. "I thought we'd gotten past the race thing."
"I'd hoped so, too," Cas agreed. "But I'm sure it doesn't help that every time Paul looks at me, he sees his father's killer."
Gail frowned. But then she said, "I have an idea."
Cas and Gail winked over to another part of the Garden. A man was sitting on another bench with his back to them, feeding the birds with a bag of bread crumbs that was sitting in his lap.
"Bonjour, Henri," Cas said softly, so as not to startle him.
But Henri merely smiled. He put the bag down on the bench beside him and rose to his feet, walking around the bench to where the couple stood.
"Bonjour, mes amies," Henri said in response. "Or, should I say, Mon Dieu?" His smile widened as he looked at Cas. "I can get down on my knees, if you want. My arthritis is gone now, along with all of my other pain."
"I trust that you're joking," Cas replied. "No one needs to get down on their knees. I'm the same man you met in Paris."
Henri regarded him for a moment, and then he looked at Gail. "I'm happy to see you here, little lady. How are you?"
"I'm fine, Henri. You look good," Gail told him. "Are you happy? Well, you know, considering?"
"I truly am, Gail," he answered. "I'm not in any pain, the weather is always pleasant here, and I have a purpose. Every day, I come out here, and I feed these birds. Then, I sit and enjoy the peace and quiet for a spell. Then, I walk down that path to the library and get a book, and then I bring it back here and read for a while. My days are quiet and uneventful, but when you consider the alternative, I'm very grateful."
But Gail was looking at their friend with her head tilted now. While she was pleased that he looked like the Henri they remembered from before his illness, Gail sensed that he wasn't being entirely truthful with them.
"Are you bored, Henri?" she asked him softly. "It's OK to say so, you know. I mean, I like reading and serenity as much as the next person, but..."
Henri smiled gently. "OK, you got me, little lady," he replied. "I confess, I am a bit lonely. The birds aren't exactly great at conversation. But I don't want to seem ungrateful, Cas. I'm very happy to be here in the Kingdom of Heaven."
Cas smiled. "This isn't Heaven, Henri. This is the Garden. It's what you might call a holding area for Heaven. Souls wait here to be sorted, for lack of a better term. We're here for two reasons: Firstly, to escort you to Heaven, and get you set up. You can pick your residence and your job there, if you want one. Or, you can stay retired. It's up to you. In addition, we can introduce you to some Angel friends of ours, who can help you to find your grandparents, if you like."
Henri was astonished. "You would do all that for me?"
"Of course, Henri. You're our friend, and you deserve to be treated like a very important person," Cas told him. "You did a lot of good when you were on Earth."
"I didn't do anything, Cas," Henri said modestly. "I was gettin' nowhere until you both came along. Sam and Dean, too. How are those fellows?"
"They're terrific, Henri," Gail told him.
"And don't sell yourself short, Henri," Cas added. "If it hadn't been for you, we wouldn't have known how bad the situation with Les Rebelles Blancs was, and we wouldn't have been able to infiltrate them as easily. You helped to save a lot of lives, Henri."
Henri smiled at the couple. He felt that they were being generous in their praise, but he would take it. It was just so good to see them again. But then, it occurred to him: Cas had said that they were here for two reasons. He asked them about that now.
Gail smiled sweetly. "Remember Paul?" she said.
"What's this I hear about you giving the Lord your God a hard time?" Henri asked Paul. The latter had been sitting on a log by the stream, fuming. He jumped up now, in surprise.
"Pops! What are you doing here?" Paul exclaimed.
"Waitin', same as you," Henri replied calmly. "And a damn sight more patiently, by the sounds of things."
Cas and Gail had both thought that, since Paul had looked up to Henri when they had all been in Paris together, if they brought Henri here to tell the younger man that he too had been waiting to gain admittance to Heaven, that Paul wouldn't mind so much. But their theory backfired.
"There you go," Paul grumbled. "That just illustrates my point. Black folks to the back of the bus, black folks at the end of the line."
Gail was exasperated. "You know what? You're behaving like an ass," she told him.
"What did you just say to me?" Paul said sharply.
"You heard me," she shot back. "Oh, and hi, by the way. I was about to tell you how happy I was to see you, but now, I don't think I will. Do you know how many millions of people are waiting here? Henri's been waiting for a couple of years, minimum, and you just got here. You're the first person Cas came to get. The very first one. So you're not only at the front of the bus, you're practically driving the damn thing! We just brought Henri here because the two of you were friends. But you're behaving like an ass now, and if you were white, I'd be telling you the same thing. Ask Dean how I talk to HIM, sometimes."
Henri's lips were twitching. Little Angel Gail, getting in Paul's face, shaking her finger at him like a schoolmarm. "OK, OK," Paul said, holding his hands up in surrender. "You don't have to yell at me." Then he smiled. "And for the record, it's good to see you too, Boo. And how are those flannel-shirted fellas? And your brother, and his wife?"
"Everybody's good, Paul," Cas replied with a tight smile.
"So you've been here this whole time, too?" Henri asked Paul. "Since we were together in Paris?"
"It's a long story, Pops," the younger Angel replied, but Cas interjected, "He was in Purgatory, Henri. But what I'd still like to know is: Why?"
"Purgatory?!" Henri exclaimed. "You were in Purgatory?"
"Yeah, and it's bull-" Paul started to say, and Henri's expression darkened instantly. "-Spit," Paul finished, and now, it was Gail who was fighting not to smile. Henri had always gotten mad at Paul for using off-colour language around her. It was old-school, and it was very sweet. But she was as puzzled as the others were about Paul. Except for having a bit of a chip on his shoulder about racial prejudice, Paul was all right, in her opinion. He had reformed himself about as much as an individual could.
"Why were you in Hell, Paul?" Gail blurted out.
Everyone's heads swivelled to look at her. "What?" Paul asked.
"Why were you in Hell in the first place?" she asked him again. "You're not a bad guy, Paul. I'm sure of it. So, why were you in Hell to begin with?"
Suddenly, Cas realized that he had no idea, either. "Yes; why WERE you a Demon in the first place, Paul? That's an excellent question," he said to Gail.
Paul sighed. "It's a bit of a story. But if you really want to hear it, I'll tell you."
Cas waved his hand, and a picnic table appeared in the shade of a tree. "I think we'd all like to hear it, Paul," he said, gesturing to the table. "Let's have a seat."
Once they were all seated, Paul sighed again. "I was an angry young man," he began. "Mad, about everything. I was the original rebel without a clue. 'What are you rebelling against?' 'Whaddaya got?' My father the Archangel raised me to believe that we were better than everyone else, but every time I looked around, it seemed like we were being treated like second-class citizens. I asked my dad about it, and that was the first time I learned that there was such a thing as racism. So, even though he had been telling me all along that we were better than everybody else, now he was also telling me that we would be treated worse, all because of a little, insignificant detail like the colour of our skin. Needless to say, it was hard for a young child such as myself to grasp the dichotomy of the situation." Cas looked at Paul in surprise, and Paul raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, that's right, Castiel. I can talk Harvard, as well as Harlem." He looked at Henri. "You'll understand what I'm talking about. I was black, but I'd been raised white. I didn't know who I was. So, I started acting out. Rebelling. My old man had some pretty radical politics, didn't he, Castiel? Once I got mature enough to start forming my own opinions about things, I thought that maybe it was his hardline stance on the Apocalypse that was turning many Angels against him. So, I told him that once, and he kicked my ass six ways from Sunday. So then, I began to hate him. But I hated Heaven, too. Everywhere I looked, all I saw was white. White walls, white clothes, and white faces, all looking at me with disapproval. That's when I started to feel the resentment kick in. I resented my father for choosing this skin colour in the first place, and I resented everyone who seemed to be looking down on us because of it."
"Choosing his skin colour?" Henri said, puzzled.
Cas looked at the older man. "When we became Angels back in ancient times, we had the option of assuming any vessel we chose," he explained. "Many picked vessels that they thought would be both useful and aesthetically pleasing. Sort of like you would try on different outfits, at a clothing store. Most of us did not have any sort of emotional attachments to any type of human structure, because we were celestial beings. I myself didn't even bother getting one until it became necessary for me to be seen by humans." He looked at Paul. "I can only assume that your father chose a Nubian vessel because it was different from most of the others'. He was always a proud man, and an individualist."
Paul gave a short laugh. "That he was, Castiel. That he was."
"So, let me get this right: Back then, being black was something to be proud of?" Henri said disbelievingly.
"So it would seem," Cas replied.
"Well, well," Henri said, bemused. "I guess James Brown was born in the wrong era."
"Anyway," Paul continued, smiling briefly at Henri's remark, "this went on for a while. Then, one day, something happened that gave me just the excuse I needed to burn it all down. Metaphorically speaking, of course."
"And what was that, Son?" Henri inquired.
Paul frowned. "Castiel killed my father."
Henri inhaled sharply. They'd mentioned that fact in Paris, but he supposed they hadn't had the time nor the inclination to tell him any details about it at the time. It hadn't really been any of his business, anyway. But he'd thought so highly of Cas, and Cas and Paul had seemed like they'd been able to put what had happened behind them. Then there'd been that whole thing with Les Rebelles Blancs, and they had never had the chance to talk about it any further.
Gail saw Cas swallow, hard, out of the corner of her eye. She put her hand on his leg under the table and gave him a reassuring squeeze.
"Suddenly, I didn't know how to feel about anything," Paul went on. "Admittedly, I wasn't exactly feeling warm and fuzzy about my old man at the time, but he was still my father. And I didn't know you at all back then, Cas. To me, you were the epitome of 'The Man'. Walking around Heaven with your head held high. Being chosen by our Father to lead the incursion into Hell to rescue Dean Winchester. Castiel, God's favourite Son. My father was an Archangel, one of a small group of the Elite of all Angels. Yet it was Castiel who God smiled upon, time and time again. But then, the Father did His disappearing act, Castiel had seemingly decided to make the Earth his new home, and my dad decided to take what he thought was rightfully his. So the battle lines were drawn, and things see-sawed back and forth for a while. But ultimately, Castiel was the last man standing. After he obliterated my father, that was."
Cas frowned deeply. "I regret that action, Paul. I regret it every day. Please know that if I could take it back, I would."
Paul nodded slowly. "That's all right, Castiel. I've come to terms with it. I just mentioned it to make my point. I was all alone and at loose ends when my dad was killed. I hated him, but I also hated Heaven, and I hated you for being you, and for taking away my last chance to reconcile my differences with my father."
Gail looked at Paul balefully. Cas was working his jaw now, looking downcast. Was it possible to make God cry? Of course it was, seeing as God was her tender-hearted husband.
"You said you were making a point," Gail said to Paul, sharply.
"Yeah - " he started to say, and she raised her voice, interrupting him: "Well, then, I suggest you make it! Either that, or you can go back to Purgatory. Or, if you prefer, you can go back to Hell, you ungrateful little - "
"All right, Gail," Cas said wearily.
"Yes, mind your language," Henri said softly, with a faint smile. "There's a lady present."
His quip had the desired effect. They all smiled, even Paul. "Are you sure there isn't a little Demon inside of you, somewhere?" Paul asked her. Then he looked at Cas. "I apologize, Lord," he said curtly. Gail's blood was still boiling, but she let it go. That was about as much as she could expect, she supposed.
"Anyway, that was when I decided I didn't want to be in Heaven anymore," Paul went on. "So I went to the Portal, and I went down to Earth. I figured nobody in Heaven would miss me, and apparently, no one did. I was an angry young man, looking for a fight. And I found one. I hooked up with a group called the Zulu Warriors."
"You did not," Henri said, shocked.
Now Paul was the one to look down at the table. "What's that?" Cas wanted to know.
Henri was glaring at Paul. "It's Les Rebelles Noirs, Cas," the older man said, tight-lipped.
"Come on, Pops. It's not like that," Paul mumbled.
"It's exactly like that," Henri said angrily, "and you know it. And, my name is Henri." He turned to Cas and Gail. "The Zulu Warriors are a militant Black Power organization. Much like the racists we were dealing with in Paris, they believe that might is right. Their slogan is 'Take Back The Power', and their specialty is fire-setting and bombing. Isn't that right, Paul?"
"OK, OK," Paul said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Yes, that's right. But I was different, back then. I was young, and angry, and I didn't know what I was doing."
"When my grandfather was young, he joined the Army, to do the right thing," Henri said in a clipped tone. "When my father was young, he worked two, sometimes three jobs, to provide for his family. And, when I was young, I was the first person in my family's history to graduate from college. You make your choices, boy."
"But I never killed anybody!" Paul exclaimed, agitated. "I swear! I just hung around with them, and talked the talk. How those cracker bastards were always keeping us down. How my reparations had better at least include fourty acres, a mule, and a staff of white servants. Maybe a date with a model from Ebony magazine, too. You know, the usual b.s. Right, Henri?"
Surprisingly, Henri smiled. He actually did know exactly what young Paul was talking about. Henri had himself indulged in a spot of rhetoric or two in his day, although his request for reparations might instead have included a night with Diana Ross, and a case or two of fine French wine. "So, what you're saying is that you were all show and no go?" Henri said to Paul.
"Well, almost," the younger Angel said in a subdued tone. "They told me what they were planning to do, and I did nothing. I just sat there, drinkin' and bullshitting - sorry, Boo - about how we were being oppressed by Whitey. And eventually, the group trusted me enough to tell me what they were planning. First, they were gonna rob a few banks, and then, when they had enough capital, they were going to plant bombs in some places around town they figured needed a wake-up call. Bastions of the Establishment. Once again, you'll know what I'm talking about, Pop- Henri," he amended hastily.
Henri nodded, suppressing a smile. He actually didn't really mind Paul calling him 'Pops', in a strange way. He'd never been fortunate enough to have any kids of his own. Too wrapped up in his career and then too preoccupied with that racist group they'd ended up defeating, he supposed. But Henri felt the same way as Gail did about Paul. He wasn't a bad guy; he'd just made some questionable choices, and he had paid a hefty price for them. Paul did need to watch his attitude a bit, and he definitely needed reminding about respect from time to time. Henri could help him with that. Now, he understood why Cas and Gail had actually brought him here to Paul, and Henri blessed them for it.
"Yes, I do know what you're talking about," the older Angel said now. "Banks, government offices, country clubs. The kinds of places where, if you ever saw a person of colour, they were serving the patrons, or waxing the floors. I understand the struggle, Paul. I've been part of the struggle. But I went about my business the right way. Organizations like the Zulu Warriors and Les Rebelles Blancs are never the right way, Paul. Never. The only colour those kinds of people are interested in is red, as in how much blood can be spilled."
"I know that now," Paul said quietly. "I promise that I do, Castiel. But at the time, I just got all caught up in the madness. I didn't intend to actually commit any crimes. I just went down into the basement one day when nobody else was around, and I got to playing with some of the bomb stuff, and I blew myself up. There. I said it. There's your headline, when you're looking me up in the book of biggest losers and screw-ups of all time. I thought I was Malcolm X, Bobby Seale, and Huey Newton, all rolled into one. But what I was, was a kid who was so far out of his league it wasn't even funny. So that's how I died. I have no idea what the group did after that. I blew up their headquarters and the bombs they'd already made, but they could have started up all over again. I can only guess that I went to Hell because I did nothing to stop them."
Cas was thoughtful. If what Paul was saying was the complete truth, and Cas had a hunch that it was, being sent to Hell seemed a bit harsh. Perhaps an innocent bystander had been killed in the blast that Paul had triggered, or maybe Father had just been trying to make an example of Paul. After all, Paul was the son of an Archangel. Their Father had suffered many a disappointment at the hands of his progeny over the years; maybe Paul had just caught God on a particularly bad day, or something. But Castiel felt for Paul now. He'd paid a very expensive price for his little rebellion.
Cas took Gail's hand. "Please excuse us for a moment," he said to the men, and then he winked her to another spot in the Garden.
"What do you think?" Cas asked his wife.
"I believe him, Cas," she said. "I think he just messed up. But I also think he deserves another chance. Once he sees that no one is going to be prejudiced against him in Heaven, I think he could be a real asset to us, Cas. He's a diamond in the rough. I just have a feeling about him. If we get Henri to take him under his wing, so to speak - " they both smiled - "and we introduce him to some of our friends, I think he'll be OK."
Cas nodded. "I concur."
Meanwhile, Henri was talking quietly to Paul. "Son, please listen to me. I don't know much about how these things work, but it seems like they're bending over backwards to help you. I've had a lot of experience with racism, and I don't see any evidence of it here. You can't go around looking for white sheets everywhere, Paul. When you find some, by all means, shut 'em down. But we both know there's a difference between actual racism and perceived racism. Take that chip off your shoulder, Son. It'll feel so good when you finally do."
As Paul was thinking about that, Cas and Gail returned. "I have to do something," Cas told them. "I'll be right back." He winked out, and Gail sat down at the picnic table again.
"I'm curious about something," she said to Paul. "If you could choose, would you rather be white?"
Interestingly enough, it was Henri who looked at her sharply, but Paul merely nodded, looking thoughtful. "You know what, Gail?" he asked her rhetorically. "I used to ask myself that same question, sometimes. But I'm curious about why you're asking it now."
She was staring directly at him. "Because Cas has your original vessel in Heaven. Yet, the vessel you're in now is also black. So that must have involved some kind of conscious decision on your part to stay black, don't you think? When I was attacked by a wild animal and my vessel was undergoing excruciating pain, Cas suggested that I should get a new one. But I didn't want to, because I liked myself the way I was. Even though I wasn't tall, gorgeous, and model-thin. We can always find reasons not to like ourselves, Paul. I was unhappy in my own skin for years, and fairly recently, it took me a year or so of wallowing in Hell before I realized that I had to make my own Heaven. Is any of this making any sense to you?"
Both men were looking at her now, shaking their heads in wonderment. Then Paul began to smile. "Who knew my Boo was so deep?" he said softly.
She answered his smile. "When Cas gets back, we'll all go to Heaven and get you guys set up. You can pick whatever kind of residence you want, and whatever kind of job you want, if you want jobs at all. I don't know about you guys, but if I didn't already have a job, I'd still choose one. Everybody needs to have a purpose."
"I don't know what I could possibly do to contribute," Paul mused. "As the son of an Archangel, I led an existence of privilege. I didn't have to do anything, so I didn't do anything." He frowned. "Actually, that might have been part of my problem."
"Well, I think I have an idea about that," Gail said. "We'll talk some more."
"As far as residences go, you can bunk with me, if you want," Henri said to Paul. "I've been a little lonesome, with only the birds for company. At least until we get our bearings, anyway. Actually, seeing as you were there before, you can show me around."
"I'd like that, Henri," Paul said softly. Frankly, he'd be glad of the company, too. Cas and Gail could say whatever they wanted to about Paul being welcomed back into the fold, but it was going to take him a while to find his place in the scheme of things. He looked at Henri. How lucky he had been to meet this man. Henri should have been Paul's father. Imagine how differently things could have turned out. But Henri was right: Paul was being offered a true second chance here, and he intended to grab it with both hands.
Cas reappeared. "Is everything settled, then?" he asked them.
"Yes, it is, Cas," Henri answered for both men. "We're ready. Lead on."
"Take my hands," Cas told them. He looked at Gail. "We're going to Bobby's office." She nodded her acknowledgement. She could get there on her own; Henri and Paul were the ones who needed the divine escort.
They all disappeared, and a moment later, they were in Bobby's office. Bobby stood up from his chair and moved around the desk, extending his hand to Henri. "How do you do, Henry? It's good to meet you. Cas and Gail speak highly of you. Welcome to Heaven."
Henri was a little discombobulated. He was unused to the process of teleportation, and his head was still a little dizzy from that. He'd just been by the stream in the Garden, and now he was standing in an office, shaking hands with an older white man, whose Southern accent put him on the defensive right away. But then, he checked himself. Hadn't he just been lecturing Paul about this same sort of thing?
"Bobby is a very good friend of Sam and Dean's," Cas told Henri. "He has advised that he'll be glad to help you get set up. As soon as we restore Paul to full Angelic status, I'm afraid I must leave you. I have quite a lot of things to attend to."
"I'm sure you do, Cas," Henri responded. "It's good to meet you, Bobby."
Now Bobby was looking at Paul, who was gazing around the room, open-mouthed. He couldn't believe it. Look at all the colour here.
"Paul," Bobby said, with a touch of coolness in his tone. He realized that the young man wasn't the enemy any more, but it was still a little weird to see him here like this.
"Have you got the vial, Bobby?" Cas asked their friend.
"Right here," Bobby said, taking it out of his shirt pocket.
Cas looked at Paul. "I'm giving you a choice: You can either take the Grace that Bobby has in that vial into your original vessel, or you can choose another. In other words, I'm giving you the opportunity to be white, if you want."
Cas and Bobby had talked about that, when Cas had popped up here a few minutes ago. Castiel had reached the same conclusion about Paul that Gail had, but he thought that he should make the offer anyway, just to see what Paul was going to say.
Henri regarded Paul curiously. Interesting. This would be a good test for the young man.
Paul looked at Gail and smiled warmly. "Nahhhh, I think I'll stay myself. I'm ready to make my own Heaven. Besides, as I'm looking around now, I see so much colour that I think I'll fit in nicely."
"Very good, then," Cas said. "I'll be right back." He popped out, then came back a moment later, carrying Paul's old vessel. He laid the body down on the floor, propping it up. "May I have the vial, please?"
Gail moved closer to Henri, touching his arm. "You're about to get an introduction into the world of the really strange," she said to the older Angel. "Brace yourself."
Bobby handed the vial down to Cas, who looked up at Paul, in the temporary vessel the latter was using. "This Grace came from a long-serving Angel named Ignatius," Cas told Paul. "He knew your father. A while back, Ignatius surrendered it to us because he wanted to live out the remainder of his days on Earth as a human. Please treat his Grace with the dignity it deserves. I need you to come down here with me. Open your mouth and exhale your essence into your vessel here, and I will introduce Ignatius's Grace into it at the same time. Then you will be a full-fledged Angel once more."
Paul did as Cas requested, and Henri watched, astonished, as Paul's current vessel appeared to deflate, as if they were letting the air out of a balloon. Then, the vessel that Cas was propping up began to draw breath, opening his eyes. It was funny, though. When Henri had first seen Paul in the Garden, he had known instantly who Paul was, even though he'd been in a different body. He said this to Gail now.
"Welcome to the wacky and wonderful world of otherworldly beings," she said good-naturedly. "We all know each other, instinctively. Wait till you teleport by yourself for the first time. It's a good thing we don't eat, 'cause I almost threw up."
Henri laughed. What a cutie-pie she was. He was so glad that Cas was God now, and that Gail was by his side. He had the feeling that Heaven was going to be a terrific place.
Paul was standing up now, with Cas's assistance. He'd been through a similar operation before in Paris, but it was still a disorienting process. But as he stood up and stretched, taking air into his lungs, Paul realized something: he felt fantastic. It was as if he had been walking in the wilderness with nothing to eat or drink for days, sweating and dirty. He felt healthy, and he felt clean. He put his hand out to Cas for a shake.
"Thank you, my Lord," Paul said, bursting into a smile. "Thanks for this. You won't regret it, I promise."
Cas took his hand. "It's Cas. I encourage all my friends to call me Cas."
They shook, and for a moment, Paul was overwhelmed. After all the crap he had pulled in the past, to be standing here in Heaven, a full Angel again? It was unbelievable.
Gail moved forward now, and she extended her own hand to Paul. "Welcome back, Paul," she said to the young Angel.
He looked down at her hand. "Forget that, Boo," he said in a thick voice. He opened his arms, and they shared a hug.
Paul pulled out of the embrace, smiling down at her. "I'll never forget what you said, though," he told her. "You got through to me, Gail." He looked at Bobby. "I can see you still have some reservations about me. But I'm OK now, Bobby, I swear. You'll see. Thank you for being open enough to give me a chance." He walked forward to Bobby, extending his hand for a shake, and Bobby shook with him. If Cas was willing to give Paul this second chance, Bobby supposed he could, too.
Now Paul grinned. "I can't get over all the colour I see here," he remarked. "How in the heck did you accomplish this?"
Cas and Gail had moved close to each other now, and they looked at one another, smiling. Cas took her hand in his, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.
Paul's mouth fell open. Now that he was back to full Angel status, he was starting to remember a few things, and he was beginning to clue in now, based on the way the two of them were looking at each other. "Why, you rascal, you," he said softly, moving forward to where the couple was standing. "Way to go, Cas," Paul said, raising his hand.
Cas was puzzled for a moment, and then he realized: Paul was looking to give him a high-five. He put his free hand up, and Paul slapped it. "I always high-five with my friends," Paul said, with a genuine smile.
Gail let go of Cas's hand and moved over to Henri. "We'll leave you guys in Bobby's hands, then," she said to him. Henri opened up his arms and they shared a hug. "Merci," Henri said to the couple. "Thanks for everything."
"We'll see you soon," Gail said. She moved back over to Cas, and the two of them joined hands again. "We'll talk some more, after you both get settled." They all smiled at each other, Cas waved his hand and the temporary vessel Paul had been using disappeared, and then Cas and Gail did, too.
