curseboxes | {dirtnap} God & Death walk into a bar ...

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{dirtnap} God & Death walk into a bar ...

There are about 200 different ways to possibly release Death from imprisonment. Regardless of the method, the very act of releasing him will break a seal - it is Death's release that is the seal itself, not necessarily the method of his release (though some of those are seals in themselves). Unfortunately, given that the Death of old has retired and Dean Winchester has taken his place, releasing him is not even close to a question. So Castiel will just have to be careful.

There is a reaper standing by, watching him skeptically, but there is little she can do other than watch and wait for her new master to be set free. She has been significantly weakened by her own imprisonment, and though Castiel had offered to restore her strength she had adamantly declined his assistance. She does not seem particularly inclined to trust him in regards to her own well being, though she does seem to trust him with the task of getting Dean out of the mystical prison he's spent the last quarter of a century in.

Things are needless to say, a huge goddamn mess.

Castiel speaks the last few words of the incantation and finishes the spell with the sacrifice of newborn calf. He feels the bonds keeping Dean trapped snap, and then pulls open the magically sealed casket and looks down at the figure laying within.

"Hello, Dean."

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He is so unchanged. Castiel would have thought the years would have changed him. It's been almost a hundred years since Dean died but apparently the company he'd been keeping before he was locked away did little to change his personality. Castiel finds that it pleases him and he smiles, but only for a moment before he tucks it away. It's inappropriate to do so now. He offers Dean a hand, though he knows he really doesn't need one.

"It's me, Dean. It's ..." No shit it's a long story, but what else can Castiel possibly say? "I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get to you. I only just found out."

He feels entirely inadequate right now, which is sort of amazing that Dean can still inspire that in him without really trying. Still he's supposed to know everything that's happening at any given time, and yet he had let himself become distracted from this, from Dean, as if anything were more important.

Shouldn't there be reapers everywhere? It's just...quiet, here, with the wind and the noise of Cas' coat in the breeze, but it's nothing besides that. Dean doesn't know if he's comfortable or not because of it.

He gingerly gets up, easing himself out of the coffin without taking Castiel's hand, because no, he's dreamed this before. Waking up, and going home with everyone, easy-peasy, and having it all be normal. Death couldn't really sleep, he supposed, not technically, but the thoughts seemed vivid enough to be real. It wasn't the first time. Wouldn't be the last.

"What, that I was down there?" Dean shrugs his jacket off, and shakes it out with a cringe, quirking Cas a tired smile, humoring him. "Yeah, Cas, I know."

Cas senses something as off, but feels as if it's safe to assume that while Dean might have some post traumatic stress from being locked up for so long, it won't be near what he suffered after hell and after purgatory. He hopes.

"Tessa is here," he nods to the reaper standing not far away but keeping a respectable distance though it's obvious from her posture she wants nothing more than to run over and start mother henning all over Dean. "I convinced the other reapers that their presence here was unnecessary." He doubted that Dean would enjoy waking up to a crowd looking for instructions.

Dean eyes her a moment - she's been in some, but not most, and it's a little unsettling to look at her, to realize that she's there and watching him like that. Not real, you know that. Still, no sense not enjoying this, right? It'll end eventually but right now he's just in it for the ride, and Dean figures it may as well be a good one.

So he smiles, jams one hand into his pocket, and nods. "Good, yeah, not really wanting an audience. You two busted me out? How long's it been?"

The answer always varies - a month, a day, a few hours, a week, it just depends on how long he's been dozing off, trying not to stare at the blackness of the coffin.

"Approximately twenty-five years I am told." He looks down, shamefully. The last time he saw Dean he was beating him to death with his hands, ready to plunge his sword through him. And then he'd left, without a word, and hadn't seen him again until moments before Dean died and he had been helpless. Things were such a mess after that but really it was too long, much too long for this to be the first conversation they've had in a century.

"I've missed you." It's said with a note of regret. He has no misconceptions that everything that has ever gone wrong between them can be traced back to that day when he had left Dean to rake his yard and followed Crowley into hell. This is still all his fault and he doubts he will ever be able to make things up.

That's not-

The shock must show on his face from the way Tessa steps forward, reaching a hand out like she wants to touch him, only to have him step back another step.

No, that's wrong. It's always less than a month. It's always less than that, because he can't fathom being down here more than that. A year, max, maybe, given how much he drifts off, but no-- no. This is a nightmare. He doesn't know if he can actually have them as Death, but it has to be.

Dean doesn't acknowledge a single thing said, he just presses both hands against his face a moment, and then drops them down, pinching himself. Not the best way of determining this, but-- he turns to Cas, instead, and reaches out, grabbing his coat, jerking his hand over and squeezes, because he's never touched him, not in all the dreams, because they never last that long. Cas is warm and real and solid under his hand and Dean feels his knees go a little uneven, tension bleeding out of him.

"Son of a bitch."

Cas isn't sure if Dean can actually go weak in the knees, but his hands come up to his arms to support him just in case. He does it before he can really think about it, pure instinct, protecting Dean, making sure he is safe. It's like riding a bicycle, only it's accompanied by the nausea of knowing he has failed in this for far, far too long. It's something he will never forgive himself for.

It occurs to him that Dean thinks he's probably dreaming this, or imagining it. Lord knows what he's had to do to keep sane these last years. So, Castiel considers the situation a moment before doing something he doubts very much he would have done in any of Dean's imaginings. He pulls him closer and wraps his arms tightly around him hugging him as tightly as Dean had hugged him when they had been reunited in purgatory.

"You're not dreaming."

How long was the real -- or, well, former Death down there? Thousands of years? How the fuck did he ever stay sane during that? Just by the fact that he'd done it before, maybe? Jesus. Jesus.

Dean glances from Tessa back to Cas, and then swallows around a dry mouth, realizing he's not hungry, he's not sleepy, he's just...empty feeling. He doesn't need any of that, and the idea of a burger sounds nice, sure, but he's not hungry, like he'd expected to be once he got out.

His mind works too fast for him to keep up, and Dean stares around them for a long moment, before he's dragged into a hug and yeah, no, this is real. Cas is real. Dean slams both arms around him tight, and presses his face down into the jacket and inhales even if it's not necessary, squeezing him achingly hard.

"Son of a bitch, it was that long?"

Edited 2013-04-29 06:44 (UTC)

Castiel doesn't let go, only holds Dean just a little bit tighter. He can do this now, hold him with all his might and not hurt him. There is something about that, the fact that they are on fairly even footing (Dean perhaps even 'outranking' him a bit so to speak) that feels comforting and right, as if they are now somehow where they were always meant to be. The physical sensation of having Dean in his arms is even more wonderful and he is in no hurry to let go of him.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Dean. It's my fault. I should have made more of an effort to contact you long before now. I feel like I haven't had a moment to even stop in a century, but there is nothing more important to me than you. If I had tried harder, you wouldn't have been subjected to this, I know that. I should have protected you." He was always failing Dean, he didn't even dare ask forgiveness anymore. He didn't deserve it and Dean would be crazy to offer it.

"Whoa, whoa--"

No, he can do this. He can shove it all down, push it all back and deal with it later, because his freaking out is freaking Cas out and he's not gonna do that to the angel right now. Dean swallows, even though it isn't necessary, and draws back, curling his hands in the lapels of Castiel's jacket, smoothing over them.

"Cas, relax. Slow down," he tries for soothing, voice low and a little more rough than he'd like. "It's fine. I'm out. We're good. Now we just gotta find Sammy and we're all good, business as normal, ish, yeah?"

He settles a little but then almost immediately tenses. Dean doesn't know where Sam is? How can Dean possibly not know where Sam is? He's Death. Isn't he supposed to know who is running heaven and hell? But then again he's fairly certain Dean doesn't know what he's been doing, what's been keeping him from him for the last century, so he supposes.

"Dean, Sam is in hell. He's been there since before you died." And of course that is probably not the best way to explain this either. "It's not a punishment. He isn't there ... against his will persay. Sam is, for lack of a better word, the devil."

It doesn't take a genius to read him- Cas tenses, and Dean feels his stomach drop to his feet, leaving him shaky, staring at the man like he's waiting for a bomb to drop, and truthfully, that's just what happens.

"He's--"

No. No, no, he can't be. Sam had died, and Dean had done his best to try and get him out again, but that wasn't-- he couldn't find him, which had to have meant he was in Heaven. That's the only way to explain it, because Sammy didn't deserve it, not after everything happened, not after how much they lost.

Dean drops his hands, and shakes his head. "Sam wouldn't do that."

Dean has misunderstood and Castiel immediately shakes his head, reaches out and places a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean, no. It's not what you're thinking. Your brother is not a demon. He is ... I don't think there's ever been anything like what Sam has become before. He is something new, much like myself. After he died, Crowley attempted to claim Sam's soul for hell, but found that the trials had turned Sam into something else entirely. Sam locked Crowley in the cage with Lucifer and Michael, and released Adam. He's been managing hell for lack of a better explanation Hell itself is still necessary, and he has closed it's gates for the most part - no demon is able to leave, though reapers still have access to ferry damned souls there. Sam can also leave any time he wishes and does so frequently. He's safe, he's fine, he is doing a necessary job and the world is safer and better for it. Do you understand?"

Dean historically doesn't react fantastically to news about his baby brother. Bad news about his baby brother, he reacts to even less well. So it's really no surprise, in his mind, when Cas says all of that and Dean jerks at his jacket, shaking him, voice low and rough and uneven.

"He's-- are you shitting me right now? Cas, Cas, everything I did- I promised him I wouldn't let anything happen to him! I let him do those trials and I--"

Failed him. Dean falls silent, biting off whatever he was going to say, and jerks back, breathing shaky and uneven. Behind him he hears the crunch of grass as Tessa steps forward, and presses her hands to his shoulders, and he sinks into that a moment, staring at the ground.

"Why didn't you stop him?"

Dean's going to need time to adjust to this, he's going to need to see the situation for himself. Castiel knows this, and yet he wishes Dean could take him at his word that his brother is safe and well.

"I can no more stop Sam from doing something than I can you, Dean. You don't understand, Sam is no more a human soul now than you are. No more a human than I am an angel. We'll go see him and you can judge the situation and speak to him yourself. Please believe me when I say though that this is not a punishment for him.

If you want my honest opinion? I think it was intended as a reward."

Wait, wait wait wait.

Dean stops, just like that, and stares even harder at Cas, because that doesn't make sense. Cas fucked off with the angel tablet, and that was that, but what is he talking about now?

He brushes off Tessa's hand gently, and shakes his head at the bit about a reward. "No, it's god being an asshole again," he snarls, and feels Tessa's hand rest on his shoulderblade like she can still him, leech out some of that anger.

"This isn't right, Cas. How the hell are you okay with it?"

Castiel sighs, it's that world weary sigh he gets when Dean is missing the obvious. "Death was not the only one who left this plane and left an heir in his stead."

He feels a bit uncomfortable now, having to explain this. He couldn't communicate it when it was happening because it was war in heaven like he had never seen it and when he had left to try and answer Dean's dying prayer it had almost cost him everything he had fought for.

"You ferry the souls of the dead between hell, heaven, and purgatory. Sam rules hell. And I preside over heaven."

No. No, no no no. No, he knows where this is going. He's worked it out already, just by feeling it out, by the knowledge that there's a thread that represents Castiel's life, and it's long, but even Dean can feel where it ends.

And I'll reap God, too, he thinks, and feels like he's going to be sick all over the ground.

"So what, they offered you the big chair and you didn't learn from last time?" It's bitter, acidic, and he can't stop himself from saying it, from spitting the words at Castiel's face, furious that he'd betray them like this.

Castiel looks at Dean and the hurt his words cause is evident on his face. It flickers across his eyes and his expression in real time because this is not the failed God that Castiel had become before, full of power without any sense of right or wrong, twisted with the souls of purgatory. No, this is Castiel, the angel who Dean taught to feel emotion, to understand the plight of the puny humans, the beauty of free will. He knows he absolutely deserves Dean's doubt, but one thing he does know is that he did not choose this for Dean and Sam.

"I was placed in charge of heaven, long after Sam took over hell. I didn't choose this for you Dean. You or Sam. As for myself ... it's not like before. Your brother would never allow that to transpire."

Long after.

Right, because he's been locked up for ages, and the world's passed him by in that span of time. Dean shakes his head, not wanting to listen to this even though he has to, taking another step back. Cas knows better. He knows better than to do any of this, understands that he can't just fuck off like that, and --

"You still said yes." Dean doesn't know if he means it to sound accusing or not, but it does, and he doesn't take it back. "I haven't seen you in years, Cas. Years. And you said yes to an asshole who couldn't be bothered to help you out once? Really?"

"I didn't do it for him, Dean. I did it because it needed to be done. I did it for you, I did it for your race. I did it to atone for the terrible things I've done. Restoring peace and order in heaven, preventing the angels from doing the kinds of things they've done for over a century now? Back when Michael was still running things? They are a danger to everyone human, demon, and most especially themselves."

He hates that he's still disappointing Dean with new things. There never seems to be an end to it and all the time he has spent longing to see Dean again only makes the knowledge that once again Dean has found fault in him devastating. He closes his eyes.

"I tried saying no once. Taking it back. I stopped, having lost the will do do anything but find you and bring you back. And then Naomi and Crowley joined forces and it was Sam who convinced me that I had had a job to do. That you wouldn't want me to let innocent people die because I was too caught up in grief and obsession to do anything but try and find you. We didn't know you were Death then. We didn't know what had become of you. It seemed the best way to save you was to finish the jobs we'd set out to do with the tablets."

Did it because it needs to be done. Dean huffs out a laugh at that, bitter and mocking, and shakes his head. Yeah, okay, that seems to happen an awful lot what needs to be done. Dean's not sure how he stomachs the taste of his own bullshit, but Cas seems to be able to do it, so more power to him.

He can't stop himself from listening, though.

Dean closes his eyes, dragging a hand through his hair, and has to listen, because there's nothing else to do. Castiel's right - if that's how things went down, there isn't anything to do about it, not really. Which means Cas and Sammy did the best they could with what they had, which isn't...much, honestly.

"I thought God is supposed to be omnipotent," he says, and it lacks the bitterness, the anger that he wants it to have.

It hadn't been a joyride, and it certainly hadn't been easy. It had been blood and pain and fear, and doubt. An endless struggle at the end of which Castiel had only held onto the hope that some day he would see Dean again and it would have been worth it.

"I'm not God, Dean. I'm not an angel anymore exactly, but I'm not God either. I'm not sure what I am. Something new. I was an angel, and now I've been changed. I don't think God is capable of replicating himself."

"Good, because if one is bad, two wouldn't be any better."

Dean shifts his weight from foot to foot, kicking at the dirt, at everything around him, finally simmering down just a little bit. He's not a stranger to choices that aren't choices at all - his own was one he wouldn't pick ideally, but had to deal with. He just had to suck it up and do what was necessary, and it wasn't unreasonable to think that the same happened with Cas.

"I lost both of you, you know that?" Dean tips his head up, watches Cas with his face carefully blank. "Just like that."

Castiel looks up at Tessa then. This is not a conversation he wants an audience for. The reaper, who has always been much more empathetic than Castiel would have imagine reapers could be, takes a step back and drops her hands from Dean's shoulders. "I'm needed elsewhere, if you're alright Dean. If you need me, you know how to call me."

It's obvious she's hesitant to go, but she does and Castiel is grateful for that. Things with Dean have always been too intense, too close to something neither one of them has known how to address or wanted to for all it was frightening. This distance is entirely unacceptable and Castiel has felt the loss every day that Dean hasn't been beside him.

"I lost you. I watched you go and there was nothing I could do to bring you back. I tried. Over, and over again I tried."

{dirtnap} God & Death walk into a bar ...

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