Best Laid Plans
Pure, unadulterated malice stared back at Crowley from the creature's inky black eyes.
Castiel frowned and looked back and forth between them.
"Crowley...", he said in a low-tone. The air was thick with tension, and it seemed like the slightest movement or gesture could start a conflagration.
Crowley's head barely twitched to one side, his eyes never leaving the monster's.
"Yes...Castiel?", Crowley answered in an equally cautious tone.
"You're absolutely certain that that thing will do this?"
"Castiel?"
"Yes?"
"Not to point out the obvious, and not to alarm you...but that 'thing' is standing right here in front of us. And it can hear you. And, I might add to further emphasize my point, it can understand every single word that you're saying."
A deep rumble came from somewhere deep in the creature's chest. A lip curled back slightly, showing a yellow fang, coated in a mossy green reminiscent of seaweed. A stench of something pungent and salty filled the air in the conference room.
"That'll be enough of that," Crowley murmured, stepping forward aggressively and staring the Deep One directly in the face. "I'm in charge here. I think we've spent sufficient time establishing that." He raised his hand in front of the monster's face. He was holding what looked like a tube with a red button on the end. Crowley's thumb hovered close over it as he gave it a demonstrative waggle.
The Deep One's eyes flickered to the device and stared at it for a few seconds. It let out a deep breath and visibly relaxed. It's eyes showed a deference to Crowley, and, surprisingly, even more hatred than before.
"What is that?" Castiel asked.
"My boys have hard-wired this thing's head with a series of electrodes," Crowley said, a smile creeping onto his face. "Oh, not your standard fare, mind you. It's enough to get this beasties'
attention, believe you me."
Castiel nodded. "And it will listen to you now?"
"This? Oh no, this is a safety device only. We've also upgraded this guy's grey matter with a couple of command words and simple suggestions," Crowley said. He moved away from the creature and sat down in the office chair at the head of the conference table. "Now, all we need to do is get him in place and send him on his merry way."
"The portal," Castiel grimaced.
"Yes, we send it there, dump it in, and monitor its progress on the camera attached to its head."
"Won't the other Old Ones notice that?"
Crowley shook his head. "Castiel, those things have been locked up behind that portal for the better part of fourteen-billion years. I'm willing to put up even odds that they've never heard of Sony."
Castiel stared at the Deep One and nodded. "OK, we can monitor it from here, then. When do we send it?"
Crowley pressed a button on the panel in front of him and a line opened after a small beep.
"Justin here, sir," came the voice from the other line.
"Justin, how goes the re-settlement operation?"
There was a significant pause, and Castiel swore he heard a muttered curse from the assistant.
"As well as can be expected, sir. You do realize that nobody in their group can speak any type of modern language."
"Are you saying that you can't handle it?", Crowley asked, his eyebrows raising.
There was another pause. "No sir. It will all be done shortly," came the reply.
"Good," Crowley said, leaning back from the intercom. "I'm going to need a helicopter equipped with loading and offloading gear ready within the hour." He looked up at Castiel. "We have a delivery to make."
The Deep One turned it's head slightly towards the Demon, the rumble in its chest starting again.
A little less than an hour later, Crowley turned the Big Board on and watched as his Demons loaded the Deep One onto the cargo helicopter, strapped it down, and took off towards the Bermuda Triangle, where the Portal had manifested. He downed several drinks during it's flight and kept casting glances at Castiel, who stoically watched the screen and didn't appear to move. Or even blink for that matter.
"Castiel?", he finally asked after over two hours of dead silence. He plinked his glass down on the table extra hard for emphasis.
Castiel grunted in reply, but did not turn his head.
"Oh good, so you haven't been turned into stone. I was worried for a moment there."
Castiel sighed and turned his head towards Crowley.
"What do you want?"
Crowley steepled his fingers and stared back. "I want to know what's going on in that head of yours. The way you've been staring at that screen for the last couple of hours, I was beginning to get the impression that you were auditioning to become a Grigori."
"What's s going on in my head?", Castiel snorted and looked back at the screen. "Oh, nothing. Just that the fate of the entire universe and God's creation is currently hinging on this plan of yours. And if it fails..."
"Yes, about that, " Crowley said when Castiel trailed off. "What is this back-up plan of yours? This 'deliberate paradox'? What are you planning to do, Castiel?"
Castiel was silent for several moments before answering. "It's better if I didn't tell you."
"Oh come on, Castiel, share and share alike, right?"
Castiel rolled his eyes and stared at Crowley. "Because you've been so forthcoming all the time that we've worked together regarding your plans." He shook his head and smiled, turning back to the Big Board. "OK, fine, I'll tell you. But only if you answer my question."
Crowley cleared his throat. "I can hardly wait."
Castiel looked back at him. "If none of this had happened. If it wasn't necessary to use the Old One in this way, sending him back through the Portal to try to close it, what were planning to do with it?"
"I show you mine, you show me yours, Castiel? Intriguing. Although I never pegged you for the type to play that particular game."
"What were you going to do with it, Crowley?", Castiel asked again, not reacting.
Crowley's face hardened and he stared back at Castiel over his fingers. His eyes flickered with something like anger, and he finally let out a sigh and picked up his drink. He took a long pull and set it down heavily, staring at the table when he answered.
"It's better if I didn't tell you."
Castiel nodded solemnly and turned back to the screen.
"I thought so."
The helicopter arrived at the Portal within the next hour. It hovered as stably as it could in the maelstrom and lowered a steel cage attached to a winch with the Deep One inside into the water near it's base. Castiel and Crowley watched breathlessly as it slowly reached the water and swung into the Portal's vortex.
The camera crackled and the helicopter swayed. The picture stabilized a few seconds later, and the crew began to draw the cage back with an automatic winch. It was empty.
"Switch to head cam," Crowley said into his headset. The Big Board went black. After a few seconds, Castiel looked over at Crowley, whose forehead began to break out in a sweat.
"Is...is it on?", he asked into the microphone once more. Castiel heard someone answer, the response distorted by a crackle of static, and Crowley frowned.
"Well, I don't see a bloody thing!", he shouted back. ""We tested this a hundred times! Don't tell me that everything's..."
He stopped as the screen flickered to life. They could see a black mass of clouds resolving themselves into a dripping, moss covered path. There was a minimal amount of light coming from all around in an even darkness, but no visible source. The Deep One had began to move forward over the path.
"Never mind, there it is..." Crowley muttered, crossing his arms and biting a nail on his thumb. He glanced over at Castiel, who had moved closer to the screen, his eyes narrowed.
"What is it, Castiel?"
"Nothing...I just...I didn't know what I expected to see..." He looked over at Crowley. "These are creatures of pure chaos. No one has ever seen their physical realm before."
The light in the picture grew until the Deep one entered a room that came right out of an M.C. Escher painting. Stairways and paths led off into impossible directions, and light blinked randomly through everything. In what was approximately the center of the area was a pulsing beam of energy, a miniature version of the Portal over the Atlantic.
"There it is..." Crowley whispered, licking his lips. He pointed at some symbols carved into the ground near the portal. "Can you make those out? It might give us an idea of who is behind all of this." On the screen, the creature began moving down twisting and turning paths, getting closer and closer to the portal.
Castiel squinted. He then moved over to the conference table where a large book stood opened to a series of runes and carvings. The title of the page was "The Names of the Old Ones", and in the lower corner was written in a loose hand-scrawl, "H.P. Lovecraft." He shook his head.
"They're not in here."
Crowley grunted. "Well it was worth a shot. Turns out Lovecraft was just a crackpot then."
Castiel shook his head again. "No, he was a Prophet."
Crowley looked back and frowned. "A Prophet...you're joking, right?"
Castiel looked up at him. "For the other side."
"Ah," Crowley answered, looking back at the screen. "But then those symbols should mean something, shouldn't they?"
"Not all of the Old Ones are listed here," Castiel answered, turning a page. "And some of them..." He straightened up slowly and turned pale white. "No...it couldn't be..." He strode quickly back to the Big Board and stared at the symbols, his face ashen. Crowley watched him, a concerned look on his face.
"'Some of them', what Castiel?"
"Some of them..." Castiel replied dryly. "Some of them can't be named."
Crowley shrugged, the corners of his mouth turning down.
"So? So what?"
Castiel looked at him, eyes blazing. "Crowley, the ones that can't be named...specifically one of them..."
The camera shook violently and there was a deep bellow that went on for several seconds. The Deep One stopped moving forward and apparently went to one knee.
"Wait...wait...what's it doing?", Crowley shouted into the headset. "Why did it stop?"
Dark, writhing shapes moved in the corners of the room on the camera, filling it, moving swiftly into it, resolving into a shape.
"Crowley..."; Castiel said quietly.
"What?", Crowley exclaimed, spinning to Castiel. "What is that? Why did my pet just stop?"
"Crowley, this isn't going to work."
"Castiel, you better start explaining yourself," Crowley said, his voice full of venom. "There's something that you know that you're not telling me, and believe me, now is the time to share!"
Castiel looked back to the screen. "Lovecraft...he called 'Him Who is not to be Named'." There was another roar as the shape became clearer, a writhing mass of inky tentacles and muscle. A face began to resolve itself in the moving mass.
"It's one of the most powerful of the Old Ones. Their version of Archangels. An Elder God. If it actually had a name, it is called Hastur. If he's what's behind all of this..."
The camera shook violently once more, and there was a wet, ripping sound before it fell still on it's side. A face cloaked in darkness leaned down into it and smiled.
Crowley jumped back, his jaw hanging open. "Bloody hell...you don't mean to tell me that the whole time, that little wanker..."
"Nice try, you two, but I'm afraid that I cannot allow you to shut down this portal. I've...I've just worked too hard on it. And for more years than you can ever imagine. I'll be seeing you," Joshua Vandecourte's distorted face mocked them from amid the writhing mass of tentacles. "I'll be seeing you really soon." The camera shook violently once more and went black.
Crowley sat down hard in a chair. He stared into space for over a minute in total shock before speaking. "Don't tell me that Joshua was some kind of Elder God the whole time...my head just won't accept that..."
Castiel was still staring at the blank screen.
"Joshua probably didn't even know himself. He was...just a vessel for it. If that thing ever manifested in our world..." Castiel shook his head.
"What?"
"Game over," Castiel said. "It's very presence is strong enough to warp and un-make reality. Joshua was a vessel. Just a vessel. He was here to do Hastur's bidding."
He looked away from the screen and squeezed his eyes shut. "But make no mistake, that...thing...is what was behind all of this. And now I'm going to stop it."
Crowley stood up. "So...it's Plan B after all then, is it?" He took a few steps to Castiel. "Do you want to tell me what that entails now?"
Castiel let out a breath and straightened up. "I'm going back. I'm going back to just after Atlantis sank."
Crowley's brow furrowed as he looked at the Angel.
"Castiel, don't be an idiot. It took an Archangel to send us back there. And one to send us back. You don't even have the power to do that."
Castiel's steely blue eyes regarded him for a moment. "If I gave it everything that I have...then...I think that maybe I actually do."
Crowley shook his head ."No Castiel, that's bloody insane. Even if you manage to go back, and that's a big 'if', I might add, you won't have enough power left to stand up straight, let alone take on Vandecourte."
"Insane or not, we have no choice anymore," Castiel answered, his voice barely a whisper. "Crowley..." He looked down at the Demon "I...just so you know...I wanted to...I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for trying...to do the right thing. For trying to save the world."
Crowley regarded him for a moment before letting out a breath. "So, that's it, then?"
Castiel nodded slowly. "That's it."
Crowley nodded slowly.
"Good luck Castiel. And..." he winced. "...God speed."
Castiel cocked his head and a half smile appeared on his face.
"Goodbye Crowley."
There was a gathering of energy as if all of the light and energy in the room was being gathered, a feeling of sudden pressure, and then the Angel was gone.
Crowley watched the empty space on the floor where Castiel had stood for a long time before he turned back to the table and sat down. He drained the last of his whiskey and hung his head.
"God speed."
There was a white light and a flash of pain. Castiel heard a loud thump, but was so disoriented that he didn't realize for awhile that it was him landing on a wooden deck that had made it.
His head swam, and his vision was blurred. He couldn't tell where he was, but the smell of fresh sea air...
"Unbelievable..." a voice with a heavy, lazy southern drawl came from somewhere above him. "Absolutely unbelievable. You just don't know when to quit, do you?"
Castiel's ribs exploded in pain as Joshua rammed his foot into them. He skidded several feet along the boat's deck before he stopped, looking up, his vision swimming. He saw the vague outline of Joshua Vandecourte, and turned his head slowly around, trying to see...yes, there he was...his past self...tied up and unconscious, lying about twenty feet away.
It might as well have been a hundred miles. Castiel couldn't get any of his muscles to respond to him. He tried to get at least his arm to move...if he could just get to his Blade...
"What did you think to accomplish here, Angel? The die has been cast. You've lost..." Joshua stopped, and turned around to face Castiel's past self. He turned back to Castiel, a slow smile of understanding creeping onto his face. "Oh...I see."
He came and crouched down a few feet from Castiel, peering at him.
"Are things really that desperate? Well, I hate to be the one to break the news to you, but there is no way in hell that I'm going to allow you to do that."
He stood up. Castiel felt a surge of energy gathering in the air around him, Joshua gathering a strike...
"Goodbye, Castiel, I would like to thank you...for your invaluable assistance in freeing my Masters. But now, well, let's face it. I don''t exactly need you anymore, now do I?" Joshua said.
And then a bolt of pure hell flew towards Castiel's prone figure.