A/N: *hugs* (^_^)
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Advent - December 8th
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Castiel doesn't know what to think about being human.
Not that he is human. He hasn't fallen or anything like that.
But it is his first time wearing human flesh and he's not quite sure what he thinks of the experience. Not that his vessel is in anyway faulty. Jimmy Novak has lived a good and devoted life and did not hesitate in offering his flesh for a higher purpose.
But humans' feel so much.
Castiel doesn't know how they cope.
He has watched humans before. Knowing that one day he would be called down to watch over the vessel of Michael.
He did not think that it would be so soon, but he is only a warrior in his garrison and Uriel is of higher rank. He has never met God and he doesn't presume to know His plans.
He has always wondered why they do the things they do. Why they react to the same situations differently. How they can change their minds without any seeming thought. How they can act completely against their nature, and against all previous behaviour.
It is confusing.
Angels are not like this. They know what they are to do. Assigned tasks and train accordingly and if any new task becomes apparent then a messenger is sent with new orders.
There is no free will. There is no need.
There is also no emotion and, having never experienced it, Castiel was unprepared when he took on the flesh of his vessel.
First was the crushing weight of it. Castiel has never been physical in the human sense of the word, just like he has never been affected by gravity. His wings flutter in the metaphysical plain, trying to bend reality so he can fly, but the body he is in anchors him down.
It is a strange experience.
He also finds out first hand that humans have a nervous system that is constantly updating and sending signals to his brain. Every touch of clothing, every brush of wind on his skin was noted, interpreted and catalogued. A constant stream of information that was everywhere and everything.
And that was just his skin. He also received constant signals about internal responses as well.
And on top of that is the hormonal changes and with it strange bodily responses. Heart beating faster, breaths picking up, rapid blinking.
It was all encompassing and he lost himself in it for a time. Feeling elation and sadness, for the first time in human flesh. Feeling the differences between the two.
It was nothing like experiencing everything through his grace.
With grace, things are more fluid. Things exist and they are known but there is no real physicality to them.
Angels are not made of flesh and earth, but of light and will.
Castiel spends three days, curled and invisible trying to take everything in.
He knows this is not unusual, that those who walk in flesh go through this the first time. It is just that training for it and experiencing it are two different things.
In the end he managed to gather enough of his grace to himself to be able to dull down the experiences. Letting his grace flow through his vessel until it was keeping it alive and healthy rather than the oxygen and blood it had constantly needed before.
It is only then that he flies to New Orleans to find his charge.
It isn't as easy as he thought.
For some reason Dean Winchester's soul is gone.
Not just gone, but completely missing from this plain of existence entirely, which is…should be… impossible.
Yet here he is.
It seems nothing is impossible for a Winchester, because not only is Dean still alive, apparently, after making a deal with Lilith, but he has managed to keep his soul out of Hell. And not only this, but hide it completely from the eyes of Heaven.
Castiel wonders, briefly, what Dean Winchester has done, and more importantly, if he is still fit to be the vessel.
If he is not, Castiel does not know what will happen, or if he will be held responsible for it.
Castiel also does not know how to find Dean Winchester when he does not have a soul to track.
This was not covered in his training.
He wanders around New Orleans for a time, invisible and watching. Waiting for Dean to show himself.
He is unsuccessful.
Luckily, Jimmy chose not to move on to his heavenly reward when Castiel first entered him, so Castiel sends a query to him. Humans are much more suited to improvising from the situations they find themselves in.
Jimmy, while not being fully conscious, solves his dilemma.
If he cannot find the person he is looking for, then he must search for those closest to him.
Castiel must find Sam Winchester.
###
Sam Winchester is much easier to find than his brother.
While there are demons in New Orleans, they are pure. Sam's soul has been tainted and twisted by being Azazel's child, but he is predominantly human.
And there is only one person in New Orleans right now that has a human soul twisted by demonic influences.
Castiel focuses on that, and flies to it, making sure that he is cloaked from human perception.
Sam Winchester is taller than Castiel has expected.
The soul is also, despite the taint, shining brightly. A pure white constrained with bands of black smoke. It looks painful and Castiel has never seen anything quite like it.
It looks like Sam's soul is too strong for the demonic influence.
But that cannot be right.
Castiel is drawn from his musings when his wayward charge steps up next to his brother and takes a seat opposite him at an outside table belonging to an eatery of some sort.
It is true. Dean is still alive, but missing his soul. He is not even being possessed by a creature pretending to be Dean, which would have been awkward because Castiel would have had to eradicate the creature before finding Dean's soul.
The brothers are talking, their heads held close together as they discuss something obviously private.
Castiel stands back and takes a moment to observe.
These are the vessels.
For all intents and purposes, these are Michael and Lucifer. Michael and Lucifer have their heads turned to each other and are acting like brothers they were, once again.
Castiel feels a sense of vertigo which he overpowers with his grace and Michael and Lucifer become the vessels again. Despite having the human emotions under wraps, Castiel still finds himself panting lightly. He is not completely used to controlling his vessel and some things keep slipping through.
Though why the image affected him so, he does not understand. Castiel was young when Lucifer rebelled. Too young to be on the front lines or do anything important. He'd never even seen Michael and Lucifer act in the same way the vessels were acting. By the time Castiel was allowed out, there was already discord within the host.
And then the battle.
The Host split in two.
The Fall.
And after that Castiel was given his orders.
God fell silent, Michael was never the same, and Gabriel disappeared.
Castiel doesn't know what it was like before, not really, but he knows that he has missed it and his grace yearns for it.
For this scene that the vessels play out without knowing.
Castiel cannot hate them for it, but it is difficult to look on them. To know that they would and have sacrificed everything for each other over and over again.
And a part, a small part, wonders what it would have been like, if Michael and Lucifer had been more like their vessels.
But he has a job to do. He is to watch over Michael's vessel and find out how he is still alive but missing his soul.
He's about to move closer, to put a tag on Dean Winchester so he will be able to find him without his soul, when reality seems to take a breath.
Castiel freezes.
Reality bends.
And then there is a man standing next to the brothers. He is tall and imposing, a rucksack slung over his shoulder. He looks human.
He isn't.
An unneeded breath catches in Castiel throat as his grace withdraws enough that bodily functions resume.
Angels can see into the different plains of existence and where, in the mortal world, the man is just that, Castiel can also see his true form.
Marbled blue skin and black lips. Large wings stretch out of his back on either side of him, passing though the other diners like they don't exist. Castiel's own wings draw back into a less imposing stance.
And there, most worrying of all, on a third plain, is a thin band of silver light encircling his head. It is a prince's crown.
An Atlantian god is standing and greeting the vessels like he does it every day. And not just any god, but the prince of gods himself.
Apostolos.
The Final Fate.
There is fear. There is a lot of fear and a little bit of panic too, and that's when Castiel realises that he's pulled back so much he's practically given Jimmy back the reins and it's Jimmy's reactions he's feelings.
Castiel draws further away, but his movement attracts the attention of Apostolos who glances at him over the rim of his sunglasses.
Apostolos' eyes flick between silver and red but it is not the colour that is so unsettling. It is the unmitigated power that flows steadily from his body, almost unconsciously.
Reality holds its breath around him, waiting for him to speak – to shape it anew.
Something curls in Castiel's stomach and he starts to tremble.
He has never stood next to an archangel, but he has a feeling that this is what it would feel like.
And he his scared.
Jimmy must be more aware than Castiel realises because his body jerks and moves away from the gathering.
Once Castiel is far enough out of sight he flies away, somewhere quiet and alone, to regroup.
###
"Ash?"
Acheron turns his attention back to the brothers he has come to see.
"Yes?"
Dean and Sam share a glance.
"Well, er," Sam says after a moment where the brothers fight over who should speak, "you kinda spaced out…"
Ash chuckles "Thought I saw something interesting. But it's gone now."
"Well…that's nice." Dean says and then falls silent tapping his fingers on the table as he waits for their order. A hot drink steams in the cold night air on the table in front of him.
Sam clears his throat, fiddling with his own drink. "Not that we're not thrilled that you're here," he says, "but…why are you here?"
Ash raises an eyebrow as he sits. "Did you forget our conversation?"
Sam flushes slightly and looks awkward. "Um…"
"What conversation?" Dean asks, looking between the two of them.
"The conversation about the hypothetical situation?" Ash prompts Sam further.
There's a certain amount of twisted satisfaction that Ash gets from watching the tall man squirm in his seat.
"Ah," Sam says, "but that's…um…not a problem anymore?"
Ash's other eyebrow joins the first and he turns to look at Dean who is just about to take a drink.
"So you aren't possessed?"
Dean blinks and then makes a face, lowering his cup. "Wait; is that what this is all about?" He asks, "Wow, I thought it was something different there for a moment."
At Ash's curious look Dean clears his throat and continues.
"No, I'm not possessed anymore."
Ash blinks behind his sunglasses. "Anymore?"
"Oh, er…yeah." Sam says.
Ash glances at Dean who is still sitting in front of him and not dead. "Impossible."
"Well, not really," Sam says, "I mean, it was a bit touch and go with the whole will it or won't it work. But," he shrugs, "it did in the end. Though," he pauses, frowning, "it might not have worked so well if Sandy hadn't actually wanted to leave."
"Dude, no." Dean interrupts with a flat stare aimed at his brother, "We are not getting me possessed again so you can test that theory."
"I wasn't going to-" Sam starts but Dean cuts him off with a glare.
"No."
"So Dean was possessed?" Ash asks, because really, the fact that Dean isn't possessed anymore should be impossible and how does he not know this? "How did you get rid of the ghost?"
Sam and Dean share a glance again and have an entire conversation.
Sam is chosen to speak again.
"The same way you get rid of any ghost." He says, "By salting and burning."
It takes a lot of concentration for Ash not to let his mouth drop open. "Salting and burning?" he asks faintly.
Sam shrugs, "Ghosts are only on this plain because they're tied to something here – doesn't have to be a body – you find the thing and salt and burn it, and the ghost has nothing to tether it. They have to pass on."
After all these years.
After the countless Dark Hunters who had fallen prey to possession, whether by accident or not, and have killed themselves to end their suffering…
And it could all have been prevented so easily.
"How?" Ash asks, "How did I not know this?"
"I dunno," Dean says, interrupting Ash's little mental breakdown, "but its kinda standard practise in the hunting game. Sam's a font of weird information though, so if you're this tied up on the easy stuff you should definitely ask him about the weirder things."
Then Ash knows.
Despite his powers, he's spent millennia in ignorance of so simple a solution because Sam told him – and he cannot see Sam's future.
Sam is important to him. Or will be important to him. And as a result, everything Sam says or does is hidden to him. Including all revelations and new information it seems.
Everything has led up to this precise moment.
Ash mentally curses and pinches the bridge of his nose.
To think, that if Sam was not going to be important to him, he would have seen this happening eons ago and would have been able to warn his hunters and act accordingly.
There have been so many senseless deaths.
Then the last thing Dean said penetrates his thoughts and Ash looks up and pins Sam with his eyes.
This man has taught him something new, that has possibly saved the lives and souls of countless people. And it wasn't a new discovery for him.
What else does Sam take as basic knowledge that Ash doesn't know because Sam hasn't told him yet.
"Ash?" Sam asks cautiously.
"I think we need to talk, Sam."
Sam swallows nervously and Dean snorts in laughter.
"If I have to give the big brother speech, then I'm not going to do it on an empty stomach." He says and motions for a waiter.
Ash watches as Sam kicks Dean under the table.
###
Stryker sits alone in his throne room in Kalosis.
The Dark Hunters are weak at the moment, he knows. His little groups of daimons are reporting more and more successes on that front.
It seems that Desiderius' plan, while failing spectacularly in the end, was good for something after all. It has left New Orleans open to attack as Acheron's followers scramble to regroup after the last major battle.
The last battle that stole Acheron's best friend from him.
It makes Stryker smile every time he thinks on it.
Stryker is under no illusion that if he gave the dark hunters enough space to breath, then the two forces would be stalemate once again. But for now…
For now he holds the cards.
They will not let up in their attacks. He will not let Acheron breathe or regroup from this. He will push his advantage as far as he can and then he will push some more because that's what he does.
For the first time in millennia his forces are not running; they are not skulking in the shadows fighting to live. For the first time since before the dark hunters were even created, they hold the power.
It's a heady thought.
But he cannot get cocky. He must play this carefully. One wrong act, one slip up and Acheron will force the advantage.
He cannot fail.
That is why he is not going to attack all at once. He cannot afford to push for the final battle just yet. He knows that Acheron is powerful enough to rally the troops and Stryker's daimons may not win if that happens.
They do have the advantage that the dark hunters cannot fight together, but taking them out one by one will take too long.
He has to come up with a plan that will force the dark hunters to do what he wants. And what he wants is to gather them all together and wipe them out in one quick stroke.
Except maybe Acheron.
Acheron he'll keep alive just so he can watch all he loves burn around him.
Stryker's hand clenches on the arm rest.
It is because of Acheron that his only son is dead. And while Nick hating Acheron is a good start, that's all it is.
Stryker will see the world burn before he is satisfied.
So tomorrow he will send out a small raiding party, to test the dark hunter's defences and possibly weaken them further.
It's all information that will lead to the end.
They attack at the setting of the sun.