Chapter 13: I'd Love to Change the World

Warnings: Language

Almost done, almost done!

Sam and Dean were left waiting for several long, tense hours in their motel room. The cabin fever was absolutely maddening. They said nothing to each other, and Sam was glad that there was suddenly something more important in the world than his…whatever it was with Lucifer.

But that wasn't to say the younger Winchester was heartless; Sam felt for his brother. He knew how Castiel was important to him in every imaginable way, and could guess how hard it would be to be totally powerless to help him. They had no idea how long a heavenly war would take, or what it signs there would be if Cas lost. Would there even be anything they could do against angels if Cas were gone?

"Dean, look," he sighed from his seat on the edge of a bed. "You might not believe me, but I'm sorry it's Cas fighting up there, and I'm sorry for my shit too."

Dean looked up, and Sam felt a stabbing ache run through his heart at the sight of him. He looked so tense and tired, and the baby brother wasn't sure what to do.

"What is it?" Sam asked softly, though he thought he might know the answer. From the look on his face, Dean didn't believe that Castiel would win this fight. It made Sam feel as hopeless as his brother looked—after all, Cas would have shared more of the details of the war with the older hunter. Dean likely knew what the angel's chances were.

"Who…who are they fighting?" Sam asked carefully. Raphael and his supporters had all been killed in Cas's leviathan-fuelled rampage, yet from the way he and Anna had spoken, the ranks were pretty evenly split.

"Well let's think about that, Sam," Dean snapped, talking in that aggressively matter-of-fact way he spoke when he was beyond angry. Sam flinched at the volume of his brother's voice. "Cas wiped out Raphael and his supporters months ago. But now they've started rallying behind some unknown angel who is in favour of the apocalypse and who they must think has a fighting chance against Cas is. Oh wait, it couldn't possibly be your boyfriend, could it?"

That hadn't even occurred to Sam. But now it did. Now the possibility seemed very real. Very obvious. Lucifer had been distracting to all three them—intentionally or not—and had gained quite a bit of power from Sam without devoting much time or effort to it. Without thinking, Sam closed his eyes and looked for the blurring seam between human and angel, soul and grace. Lucifer wasn't gone, but neither did he feel accessible. It was like touching something through the mesh screen on a patio door; he could feel the impression of the devil's grace, but something strong and barely-yielding was in the way.

It seemed to Sam Winchester that that was enough to justify mild panic. "Oh fuck," he said simply, deciding human language was mostly inadequate for the situation anyways. The younger Winchester wasn't certain what was worse—that he had likely started the apocalypse again, that he had trusted the devil more than his own brother, or that Dean was being so comparatively patient with him now.

Though there were probably more important things to worry about, Sam's mind suddenly stuck on that last one. Dean was staring at him angrily. He'd just been a little bit loud, and a little gruff. That was all. But he seemed so certain of Satan's involvement, and of the probable outcome. It didn't mean that he wasn't worried about Castiel, or the angels, or the apocalypse. It simply meant that he'd seen it coming. Predicted Sam's weakness. Resigned himself to the inevitable.

That realization was pretty much all Sam could take, and yet the epiphanies kept coming. Lucifer had used him, in more than one way, and Sam had allowed him. Welcomed him. He had done more than simply let the devil in—he had begged to be his vessel. He had carried him out of Hell, leant him power over and over, and denied that he would do harm. Sam wasn't certain that people normally got stupider as they aged, but apparently he had reached a point in his own life where he had trusted Satan not to betray him. In hindsight? Yes, that seemed very, very stupid.

...

Castiel was battered in a way Dean and Sam would never understand. His grace was pummeled so that his very existence ached and teetered dangerously. His vessel was bruised and bloodied equally, and he felt that with such visual cues, the Winchester boys would likely appreciate his injuries, even if they couldn't understand them.

Less than half of their original ranks remained. A quick scan told him that he might be one of the least damaged of those who survived. Anna was nowhere in view, which saddened Castiel greatly. He had just learned that his sister lived—he was not ready to give her up again so quickly.

The war was over. The war which he, an unremarkable soldier in the vast Host of Heaven, had unwittingly helped to begin. He had sought to overthrow the very order of heaven, to question the way the will of God was understood, and to fundamentally change the way the angels would interact with humankind. Castiel had planned to guard humanity once he accomplished this goal. He would bow to the humans, would serve and love them as his father had so wisely directed. He intended for every angel to understand that peace and freedom, rather than the eternal struggle of the archangels, was the highest calling of the Host.

However, Castiel had not won the war.

Lucifer had.

And yet, somehow, Castiel was not yet dead. He rested, crumpled and beaten, before his triumphant brother. His tired mind working hopelessly as it searched for a way to save them, but he was done. It was finished. There were only two archangels in existence, and only one walked free in his vessel. The war was definitively finished, and so was God's creation.

"Little brother," Lucifer said, addressing Castiel softly. "You seem nervous."

Lucifer had waited until the very peak of their war before entering the struggle. When they had already lost most of their soldiers, the archangel had stepped in and defeated the generals of both sides. The difference was that Castiel remained intact, for the time-being. He wasn't certain what his brother's purpose was in preserving him. He prayed that it was not for use against the Winchesters in some kind of emotional torture. He steeled himself to resist whatever Lucifer had in mind, but knew that the effort was useless. There would be no resisting. He was finished. He could only console himself with the knowledge that he had eventually done what was right. He had served humanity. He had found love among them. He had chosen them.

Still, the angel couldn't help worrying about them. They were so fragile, and so small. He was certain they were waiting anxiously for him to return. His heart aced with the knowledge that he never would.

"I wonder what you imagine will happen now," Lucifer continued after receiving no reply. "I'm honestly curious about what's going on inside your head right now. 'Why am I alive? Is he going to torture me? Corrupt me? Use me against my husband?'" He mocked, deepening his voice to impersonate Castiel.

Castiel glared at his older brother, reluctantly waiting for the answers to those very questions.

"Castiel, I've defeated your army. I've defeated your adversary. My word is the word of heaven. Will you obey it?"

The younger angel had expected such a question as one possibility. He had been ready to answer 'no.' But Castiel was still a soldier. He was still loyal. Dutiful. He had started the war in the hopes that what remained of both sides would accept his judgment as the most true to their Father's design. From the position of defeat, he saw how very difficult that would have been for his adversaries to swallow.

Before Castiel could answer, Lucifer drew in a breath which surprised the younger angel with its tired edge. "I want our Father to pay. I want him to be accountable for my suffering. For our suffering. Someday, he will." A pause that seemed to stop the world with it. "And when I want heaven, I will take it back. You know now, without a doubt, that I can. But for now, it is heaven's will—my will—that you command the Host, little brother."

Wait, what?

Hahaha, that was a lot of fun to write. Only two more chapters to go! Please forgive how short this one was; I was really unwilling to end it differently.

But the next two chapters will be very, very long. As a result, I make no promise about updates before the weekend or anything.

Thanks so much for sticking with it this far!