A stomach flu and a nasty writer's block... Those are my excuses for letting you guys wait so long. I hope you will forgive me after reading this bit of heavenly goodness.
Oh, also, there's a new Destiel vid on my Youtube channel ( watch?v=QekM7skz8nY after the usual youtube adress), check it out if you like :) Credit for betaing once again goes to my awesome Ninjakittee.
The gravel crunched under the pressure of the large shoes pacing back and forth. It was the only sound that could be heard for miles around them. A gathering of thousands and thousands of celestial beings, yet the only audible sound was coming from the casual movements of only one of them. The one at the center, the one with all the power. The one that was about to speak.
The vast field surrounding them held a bleak and daunting atmosphere, the grey shreds of cloud across the sky awakening a dark sense of foreboding. It was a very unusual setting for a soul to choose for its eternal rest. Set in the year 1626 during the Thirty Years' War, the image was taken from the head of a past war hero who had died in battle upon that very field. The gravel was smooth and undisturbed, the grass green without any sign of the mud that would later come to mar it. The field in its current state lay frozen in the hours before the battle, a sharp sense of excitement hanging in the air at the big deeds that were soon to come.
It was a place that was widely known amongst the angels of heaven and yet Castiel had only been to it a few times during his very long life. It was not a heaven that any angel usually favored for himself. On their own all of them took more to quiet and tranquil places, places that made them feel at home. Even Raphael possessed his own little niche amongst the infinite planes of their kingdom. But he had chosen this heaven for a very specific reason and Castiel thought he knew why.
Each and every one of them knew why this was that particular soldier's last resting place. He had been a man of strong convictions, one who believed strongly in the cause for which his country was going to war. He had not feared the prospect of battle, feeling very confident of the fact that although unpleasant it was necessary and right to achieve the goals they were fighting for.
In light of this background what better place could the archangel have chosen to sell his idea of recommencing the war of all wars? The sacrifices that needed to be made but were ultimately necessary to lead the world into paradise… Nowhere else would the words he was speaking make a more powerful impression than on this field.
Castiel could barely bring himself to listen as Raphael's deep and calm voice carried across the entirety of the Heavenly Host, speaking of the change of unforeseen events and the need to reorganize their forces and bring them back to their once unchallenged glory. There was no passion to be found in the archangel's voice, no agitation or excitement at the importance of what he was saying. He was neither cautious nor demanding; his voice remaining ever-calm – confident, but also strangely bored. It was as if he was merely stating widely acknowledged facts for the sake of completion, not even bothering to contemplate the absurd possibility that someone could have a different opinion.
It was then once again that Castiel realized how utterly hopeless his situation was. Raphael did not view him as a threat; he viewed no one as a threat. He relied on the perpetuity of the heavenly order with such utter confidence that no small rebelling angel could ever manage to shatter his beliefs.
He lowered his eyes, preferring his own bleak thoughts over Raphael's monologue. He threw a quick glance over at the members of his garrison and noticed that some of them were watching him closely. Inias politely averted his concerned eyes while Hester's more scrutinizing gaze stayed fixed on him, most likely puzzling over what he was thinking. His eyes finally met Rachel's, the two of them locking gazes over her worried expression.
She dared not speak out of fear of being punished for interrupting Raphael's speech, but she did not need words to convey the questions she was posing.
What's wrong, Castiel? Her eyes seemed to be pleading the words, the anxiety radiating from her grace. What's going to happen?
Castiel gave her a sorrowful shake of his head and averted his gaze once again, looking through the crowd of angels toward Raphael. His companions' concern having distracted him from his decided strategy of not listening to the archangel's words, he was unable to blend out the following part of his speech.
"Our Father left us quite a while ago," Raphael stated, his deep and placid voice still awakening an air of complete recreation. "I understand that this was hard. For all of us. But that does not change the fact that we still hold true to His plan…"
Castiel was unprepared for the large amount of fury, the outrage that instantly overcame him at fully acknowledging just a few of the words that the archangel was raining down upon them.
"His will needs to be"-
Cas, you listening up there?
The angel blinked in utter surprise, his entire being suddenly freezing on the spot at the distant sound of the familiar voice. Raphael's voice was completely drowned out as his grace kept sending out distressed flashes within him, producing a blaring sound in his ears. After a few moments of stillness, Castiel realized that he was holding in a deep breath, making his vessel fire up in agitation.
This was nonsense! He was an angel; he didn't need to breathe. And what was more, he was in heaven, a place where air and oxygen was an illusion of a particular plane at best. The fact that his vessel had still reacted the way it had, was yet another reminder of how much time he had spent on earth, how natural some human necessities now were to him. Instead of his angelic senses controlling his human vessel, his vessel had controlled him. And that was downright terrifying.
I know I kinda gave you a hard time today… Sorry bout that.
There it was again. That familiar voice that made his grace flare up in excitement and sorrow at the same time. Dean's voice. It was the one voice he had most longed to hear besides any other, but now that it was here and real he somehow didn't know if he could manage it. He didn't know if he could accept his inevitable fate while being fully conscious of the most important thing he was leaving behind.
Castiel anxiously looked around at his brothers and sisters surrounding him. Had any of them noticed his flaring grace or had he managed to keep it sealed within himself despite his fretful state of mind? Nothing seemed different, even though inside him everything felt different. Only a moment ago he had been succumbed to a wistful, crestfallen but remarkably peaceful mood and now that was all overturned into white hot pain, the kind of pain that made him feel like his wings were being scorched by holy fire. For even though Dean had not yet spoken any words of import, the angel knew him well enough to know what was coming.
When Dean Winchester prayed, he didn't go for the half-assed version. He went all the way.
I know I said that I'm all right, Dean's clear voice rang out to him, addressing the unanswered question that they both had known still hovered between them that afternoon. It's… it's what I always say. The truth is I'm not. Castiel felt his grace tighten in compassion at the hunter's confession. Almost instantly he was struck by a need to lift his wings and return to Dean's side that very moment, the pain within his friend's voice making everything else suddenly seem vastly unimportant.
Raphael's voice was still ringing out across the field, speaking of the Apocalypse and God's plan. Castiel knew that the archangel was bound to soon arrive at a point that was crucial for his own future, but he somehow still couldn't bring himself to pay attention as he soaked in Dean's every word.
I'm not holding up very well here, Cas. Every day without Sam, it… Just reminds me a little more of what's happening to him down there, you know?
Sam. Again the angel felt the deep-seated regret at not being able to give his friend the one thing that meant everything to him. The thing that was destroying him.
It had been the younger Winchester's own choice to sacrifice himself in order to stop Armageddon. He had known full well everything that expected him if he took that final leap down into the pit, but being the remarkable man that he was, that still hadn't stopped him. Of course none of that mattered to his brother. It made no difference what had been the reason for his death, Dean would still never stop blaming himself for every speck of harm that had come upon him. Protecting Sam was the only thing he had ever lived for. And now that he had failed, Castiel knew that nothing would be able to stop the hunter from slowly destroying himself.
He didn't need monsters to break him. He did fine on his own.
And I can't take anymore of that, Cas, I just…
Castiel noticed that his garrison's gazes were once more fixed upon him, this time slightly more questioning than before. The same question that had shone from Rachel's eyes so clearly before now seemed to be radiating off all of them. What's wrong?
He wondered if they had finally sensed his distress or if they were simply still confused by Raphael's declarations when he had so clearly told them otherwise. Either way he knew that he didn't have much time left.
"We'll start by freeing Lucifer and Michael from their cage," Raphael's voice boomed back into his senses, now sounding more threatening in the face of already settled actions.
Look, I know you well enough to know you won't stand down.
Castiel nervously looked to his right and left, not sure what to think or who to listen to. He felt extremely confused and yet Dean's voice managed to cut through the hazard fog of his thoughts with the clarity of a knife. The hunter knew exactly what he needed to hear at the moment.
"As we all know, Crowley was never in favor of our plan," Raphael kept informing his brethren. "The scum likes to keep it simple." While speaking the last words, the archangel had an almost derisive edge to his voice, the slight hint of a dismissive chuckle escaping the back of his throat. It couldn't have been clearer that he thought Crowley to be nothing even resembling a threat.
Something they had in common then, Castiel thought bitterly to himself.
You're a fucking stubborn son of a bitch when you've set your head on something.
The angel's brow almost furrowed of its own accord at hearing the hunter's insult. Had he not known Dean better, he might have been put off at the choice of words.
"He will be bordering up hell and preparing himself for war as we speak." Despite his amusement over the demon's efforts, Raphael did not seem to underestimate his determination. "If we lay siege to him he will be ready."
But just so you know… Castiel felt his grace viciously pulsating inside of him, the agitation making it harder and harder to contain. He knew this feeling; he had felt it before. It was the same amount of fear and adrenalin that he had experienced when Dean had first talked him into rebellion in the face of the Apocalypse.
Rolling over and dying is no better.
And just like then, despite all the dread inside him that was telling him otherwise, he knew exactly what he had to do.
"But not to worry…" Raphael now wore a smug expression.
'Cause if you do that…
The strain of concealed pain in Dean's voice was almost unbearable.
"We will get our show back on the road."
You let them win.
And with one violent flare Castiel's grace shot out beyond the boundaries of his vessel and shone with luminous beauty, the bright and vibrant colors mirroring all the anger and heavenly wrath that had remained trapped inside him for far too long. It was such an immense relief to finally let it all out, to no longer hide what every ounce of him was screaming, regardless of what might be the consequences.
In perfect synchrony with his glowing grace, the angel opened his mouth to speak.
"No," he said. The word was neither loud nor forceful, but still spoken with an incredible prominence on the otherwise silent field. Castiel felt the shocked faces of hundreds of his brothers and sisters turn toward him, all of them heavily unsettled, but he didn't let that distract his piercing blue eyes from fixing upon the very thing that all his anger was directed at.
He wasn't even sure which of the two men he had been talking to, but it made no difference; his answer applied to both of them. And only one of them was now locking eyes with him with an equal amount of dislike.
A powerful silence hovered over the thousands of beings as each and every one of them anticipated the inevitable standoff between the two angels glaring at each other.
You let them think that none of it really meant anything.
Castiel fretfully clung to the sound of Dean's voice, hoping and praying that it would give him the strength he needed.
"Ah, Castiel…" Raphael finally said, his voice still carrying the same deep, impassive quality to it. "How good of you to announce yourself."
The lower angel found it to be very unsettling, how indifferent his superior appeared to be by his interruption. From his casual expression one could assume that he was merely moving on to a further point he had wanted to address, as if he was almost approving of Castiel's notion to remind him of this. Just one further issue that needed to be settled before everything was set in motion… that was all he was.
"I trust you have something more to say," Raphael added lazily, stretching out his hand in an inviting gesture.
Castiel could almost feel the anxious gazes of his garrison fixed upon him, but he did not divert his eyes from Raphael's.
"Yes, actually, I do," he said sternly, slowly taking a few steps toward the archangel, the angels standing in front of him all backing off to the side to clear his path.
I'm a frickin' mess, man! Dean's voice continued softly in the distance, but the angel forced himself not to react to it and merely kept it close to his grace for strength.
"The Apocalypse doesn't have to be fought," Castiel said, making sure not to break eye contact with Raphael while his clear, deep voice sounded over to him. The words he was speaking were meant for the entirety of the Host more than for the archangel himself. It was the first time he was able to utter his motives for rebelling against his superiors to all of them and he could only pray that at least some of them would understand him.
"You know I have spent time among humans. Believe me when I say that I know what their values are," he went on sincerely, his grace flashing passionate colors in synchrony to his commitment. All the while Raphael remained silent, gazing at him with an almost mocking, amused glint in his eyes. As if watching Castiel fight a losing battle was the most entertaining thing in existence.
In the back of his head he continued to make out the desperate confessions in Dean's prayer. I don't think I can take anyone else dying, you hear me? The angel steeled himself, not wanting the pain and the need for his charge to flash outward when he was trying to convey complete confidence.
"They are our Father's creations, his children, just as we are," he said adamantly, feeling the attention of all his brothers and sisters fixed on him. Somehow he managed to make out the benevolent grace of his joined garrison; all of them loyal to him, despite a few doubts some were fighting with. "We can't carelessly sacrifice millions of their lives and destroy their civilization to achieve our goals."
Raphael shrugged lazily, not impressed whatsoever by his brother's speech. "I see no reason why not," he said. "Some sacrifices are necessary. When we achieve paradise… everybody wins."
When, Castiel noticed the archangel's choice of words bitterly. Not if. Pride had always been one of Heaven's greatest problems.
Please.
The soft whisper of Dean's voice was nearly imperceptible, but it was still more powerful than anything he had said so far. Dean Winchester did not beg. Not unless he was only moments away from succumbing to despair.
Straightening himself up as much as he could, Castiel met Raphael's gaze with cold resolve. "I won't let you," he said with firm determination. "I won't let you make all their sacrifices meaningless!"
The rumbling in his voice suggested the start of a taunting chuckle from Raphael. "We all know you mean the Winchesters, Castiel." His expression seemed careless but his eyes were shooting daggers at his subordinate. "They are the only humans you care about."
Castiel glared back at him with the same amount of animosity. Every part of him wanted to argue, wanted to deny the scoffing accusation made by the archangel, but he could not bring himself to do so, because in a twisted way it was correct. As much as he was making his case for the entire human race and as much as he really did care for each and every human soul on the planet… All he could think about was Dean.
All he cared about was Dean. There was nothing that he desired more than to spare his friend from the infinite pain of knowing that his brother's sacrifice had been in vain.
As if his affectionate thoughts toward the hunter had somehow triggered the latter to speak once more, Dean's begging voice found its target with perfect accuracy.
Don't make me lose you too.
Castiel savored the pained words almost wistfully, his resolve now strengthening to the point of sheer indestructibility.
"I will not kneel before you," he said quietly, the softness in his voice not making the words any less powerful. "There will be no Apocalypse."
The silence on the field was almost deadly now, none of the other angels even daring to move at the tense, ominous situation. From the midst of the crowd Castiel thought he could feel the slight flutter of a familiar grace; an affectionate and worried surge wanting to rise up and make contact with him. Rachel. Before she could go any further, he instantly pushed her back gently with his own grace, not wanting her to draw attention to herself. He prayed that neither Raphael nor his followers had caught the brief flicker of interaction, but his hopes were very slim. The archangel probably already had his gaze set upon Castiel's garrison, waiting for them, daring them to support anything their leader had said.
Tomorrow you kneel, Castiel... The words he had heard only the previous day ghosted through his mind. Or you and anyone with you dies.
He didn't want anyone to go down with him.
Suddenly he understood what Dean had been trying to say all along. About not having to face Raphael, about trying to come up with a different plan, about having to run away. Because it wasn't really running away. It was choosing to go on fighting this new order that he couldn't let succeed. It was going on for Dean.
Only unfortunately that wasn't what it was going to look like to his garrison.
"Pity…" Raphael said coldly, eying the angel before him in careful calculation. "You used to have so much potential."
For a brief moment the archangel turned away from him to look over at his followers. This was it. The order was soon to be issued. This was probably his last chance.
Castiel turned around quickly to cast a regretful gaze toward the members of his garrison. Their gazes all spoke of confusion and fear and he knew that there was nothing he could do to help them. He wished he had the time to make them understand, wished that they wouldn't think he was leaving them all behind. He didn't want to leave any of them behind, but he didn't have a choice.
For the blink of an eye he caught Rachel's gaze. "I'm sorry," he whispered sadly.
And to the surprise of everyone surrounding him, before Raphael managed to speak again, Castiel suddenly lifted his wings and ran.