Title: Matter Of Fact, It's All Dark (5/5)
Summary: The news came blaring through Castiel's mind; the Winchesters were dead. Knowing they were coming back was all well and good, but this was their chance to find out where God was, and Castiel had to tell them about the garden.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, nor the characters, though I love them so. Some of the dialogue in this is lifted straight from the episode "Dark Side of the Moon" though the internal thoughts are my interpretation. Title belongs to Pink Floyd.
A/N: Cas POV again, and the final chapter. This also ties in with the beginning of "99 Problems"
Warnings: Canon character death, angel whump, angst, as much swearing as the show.
Castiel made it to the Winchester's room in the blink of an eye. He could admit to a strong desire to see them alive again. The sight of their bodies had been more disturbing than he'd anticipated, and the mental image would not leave him. But even more pressing was the urge to find out what Joshua had said, to find out where God was, why no one had seen Him in so long. Finally he would have some actual information!
He appeared in the motel room as Dean was removing the phone from his ear. He and Sam were still in their blood stained clothes; the holes from the buckshot showed healed flesh underneath. The sight was unsettling. Sam still sat on the bed he'd died on, while Dean turned around sharply at his arrival.
"Cas," Dean said. "That was fast,"
"Dean, Sam." Castiel greeted, "I saw no reason to delay my arrival. It is good to see you alive."
"Thanks, Cas." Sam murmured, getting to his feet, and rubbing his chest uneasily, though there should be no residual pain.
Dean grumbled, and shifted his feet. "Feels like a bad trip..."
Castiel agreed that it was a bad trip, but thought that perhaps Dean was referencing something else. Either way, he decided to ignore it, in favor of asking the question that was burning on his mind.
"Did you find Joshua?" He asked, unable to keep all the eagerness from his tone. He was so close to an actual answer. Joshua had to know where God was.
Dean glanced at Sam, something uncomfortable in his eyes. Castiel felt something clench inside him. Then, Dean's face stiffening into that emotion hiding mask, and he turned to Castiel.
"Come on, man. Let us change first before the interrogation, these clothes are trash." He plucked at his ruined shirt, but Castiel narrowed his eyes. That flash of something in Dean's expression was gnawing at his gut.
"Dean," Castiel said,ready to protest, but Dean was already deflating, and sadness became plain across his face.
"Cas," Dean started, sighing. "We did see Joshua, and he gave us a message from God." He trailed off. Sam was looking at him in sympathy. Castiel was about ready to step forward and shake the both of them.
"And, he said to...God said to back off. Said he knows what's going on down here, and he doesn't care. We're on our own."
As Dean's words registered in his mind, one by one, it felt as if the air was getting sucked out of the room. Castiel didn't move, let the words sink in, as if being completely still would make not them true. They couldn't be true. It was impossible, his Father was loving Father, that's what he'd always been told, and there had to be a mistake, they couldn't be true!
Castiel's exhaustion from before returned tenfold, and he turned from the brothers, thinking vaguely of leaving, but the thought of opening his wings made him only lean heavily forward until he was resting on the room divider. It was literally the only thing holding his upright, and for a while he just concentrated on that, on the firmness of the wood, the feel of the support. His hands found his pockets, and he left them there.
Distantly, he heard Dean call to him, and then he and Sam began moving around, presumably to change and pack. But his mind was taken up, and rolled over with thoughts and feelings he didn't have the ability to process.
His Father. His father...
And all the while he'd been looking, searching, hoping, praying (to whom?) pleading for help, for some guidence, and there was nothing. A silent and uncaring figure, nothing more...
It couldn't be true! How could it be true. He'd been brought back for a reason, hadn't he?
There had to be a mistake, some misunderstanding...something!
"Maybe..." Castiel started, listening to the sounds of the Winchester's moving about the room. "Maybe, Joshua was lying." Castiel murmured, almost without realising he was speaking aloud. The roughness of his throat startled him, made him realize how long it had been since Dean had first told him.
Sam and Dean's noises slowed, and there was the sound of a zipper being closed methodically. Then Sam spoke.
"I don't think he was, Cas. I'm sorry." Sam sighed heavily, and in that moment, Castiel knew he truly meant it. And if Sam, the boy with the demon blood and inexplicably a massive amount of faith, knew within his soul that they were their own, then...
Dean said nothing, and Castiel did not turn to look. He couldn't see it right now. Sam's words had broken his last hope, the last shard left to him. He was done.
His vessel's throat tightened, jaw clenching back emotions tangled in a dark knot, pulsing with an anger that rose like and encroaching flood.
Without a word to the boys, he moved away from the support wall, his anger sustaining him through his tiredness. His eyes raised to the ceiling to the...what? Sky, space, Heaven, nowhere at all? Towards a father he'd loved, had faith in, even when all else had fallen to the wayside, and in the end, who'd betrayed him, left him. Oh, God, why have you left me?
"You son of a bitch. I believed in..." And Castiel let his words trail off, not even sure what he had believed in. All his existence, he'd been told lies, why should this one, the greatest one be any different? How could he think that everything else his angel superiors told him was false, while they were truthful about the fact that he had a loving father. They lied about everything, why should he be surprised?
The anger fell away, and the weariness settled back on his shoulders. He dropped his eyes, his shoulders, his heart.
His fingers in his pocket suddenly registered something hard jabbing into his nail bed. It was the amulet. Almost forgotten, since this whole mess had started, it say in his pocket innocently, cool under his fingertips. It was a reminder that his whole mission, his reason for coming back, for existing since he'd rebelled, was gone.
Castiel suddenly couldn't bear to have the necklace anywhere near him anymore. He wanted it gone, like his faith was gone. He turned slowly, wearily, to see Dean and Sam standing there across the room, watching him. He could not meet their eyes.
Castiel dug out the necklace, and held it out. "I don't need this anymore." He said, and tossed it towards Dean without a second thought. It left his fingers, and Castiel felt only relief, glad the thing wasn't there to remind him of his failure by it's very existence.
Dean caught the amulet he'd thrown, and let it dangle from his fingers. Castiel stared to the side of the room, looking at the morbid bloodstains on the bed. He couldn't see his own loss of hope reflected in Dean and Sam's eyes.
He had to go. Where, he didn't know, but he coulnd't stay here.
Sam's words twisted away, and Castiel landed in a city strip. The passersby did not notice a man suddenly standing in their midst, and they certainly did not see the way Castiel wanted to weep, to scream and cry at the sky (though there was nothing up there to hear him, he knew that now). He didn't know what to do. Where to go. There was no point to anything.
For there was no way they could beat the devil, not with Dean's plan, and they wouldn't, couldn't say Yes. It would be a waiting game that no one would win. The world was lost, and his father wouldn't lift a finger to heap, nor would he even listen!
Anger rushed through him again, and he sank a fist into a wooden wall, the beams splintering around his knuckles, blood welling up. Pain distracted him for a moment, and he savored feeling something other than despair, before his release faded. Pain meant he was closer and closer to being human. He could still heal those scratches, but for how much longer? And now to find out that he was in this state for nothing. He'd rebelled for the hope of a better world, and all that was left was despair.
Breathing quicker, he looked around. Castiel was starting to earn the gaze of the people around him, worried or nervous about this madman who was punching walls and looked near to crying.
Stop, he just wanted it all to stop.
Castiel stumbled forward, and there, in front of him like a sign, was a store advertising alcohol. He stared for a moment. Then, he took a step forward. This was what Dean, and Sam and Bobby turned to in times of despair. He knew that well, and never understood it. But, he was at rock bottom, and if it was good enough for them to forget, it was good enough for him.
I hope you liked it!