Change Came In Disguise Of Revelation
Title: Change Came In Disguise Of Revelation
Rating: PG
Words: 584
Spoilers: s6e22, obviously
Summary: Having eventually found the last two episodes on the internet, I proceeded to jump on the bandwagon and write an s6e22 coda. This is Castiel doing his Purgatory ritual.
Castiel chooses to flee.
He arrives in a basement, a dark place with damp concrete walls. The building above him is empty, he senses, but he does not actually know where he is; he had only a fraction of a second to make the switch and then his actual destination was an afterthought.
Flee or die, Crowley said to him, mocking him with his own words. Crowley is a fool. Castiel fled, yes, but now all the cards are in his hands.
He opens the jar and dips two fingers into the blood; lifts them and watches it drip, thick and viscous, from his hand. He thinks of Sam and the blood that tainted him, corrupted him, made him ready for Lucifer, and feels a faint, disconnected sense of disgust at his own actions.
But then Sam had to take the demon blood, had to open himself to the Devil, to save the world and everyone in it. Sam Winchester’s corruption was the price that bought freedom for billions of people. Castiel smiles thinly; it is surprising, he thinks, considering all that they have done, that the Winchesters are so reluctant to accept the compromises he makes for a greater purpose.
He does not have time for abstraction. He shakes off the pensive mood, clears his thoughts and reaches into the jar again, and this time steps towards the nearest wall, a blank canvas, and begins to smear the blood into the patterns and sigils that Eleanor Visyak showed him. He regrets what he had to do to her to get them, but in the long term it is insignificant.
The sigils are roughly sketched and fading at the edges, but Castiel is an angel; he sees more than humans do, and he can see the beauty and precision behind the smeared lines. This will be his gate.
He sifts through his memories and begins to repeat the syllables that Eleanor muttered to him with painful, bloody breaths; they are not quite Enochian, though Castiel can find similarities in some of the sounds. As he speaks he can feel a vague straining presence, a stretching and tearing of reality; it intensifies with every syllable he pronounces, and with it the pride and the satisfaction swelling inside him. Finally, at the eleventh hour, Castiel can win. Castiel can destroy Raphael with the flick of a hand, and Crowley too if he chooses; he can use his power to do what his desperate explanations could not and finally, finally make Sam and Dean Winchester understand.
The last syllables leave his mouth, and as he stares into the heart of the symbol on the wall it begins to open. His human senses do not help him here, but with his angelic vision he sees…
…light.
So many lights. So much beauty and, more relevantly, so much power.
They are rushing up to meet him, through the sigils daubed in blood on the concrete wall from the place where the symbols lead. Castiel is surrounded by lights; the shadowy basement begins to fade, and he is in an infinite space, a dark abyss, but from everywhere the lights are streaming toward him.
Castiel tips back his head and laughs. Yes. He was right, he can take these souls and save the world, save the Winchesters, defeat Raphael and rebuild Heaven. The last thought Castiel has before it happens is that he is becoming who he was meant to be.
And then the lights fill him, and everything changes.
Rating: PG
Words: 584
Spoilers: s6e22, obviously
Summary: Having eventually found the last two episodes on the internet, I proceeded to jump on the bandwagon and write an s6e22 coda. This is Castiel doing his Purgatory ritual.
Castiel chooses to flee.
He arrives in a basement, a dark place with damp concrete walls. The building above him is empty, he senses, but he does not actually know where he is; he had only a fraction of a second to make the switch and then his actual destination was an afterthought.
Flee or die, Crowley said to him, mocking him with his own words. Crowley is a fool. Castiel fled, yes, but now all the cards are in his hands.
He opens the jar and dips two fingers into the blood; lifts them and watches it drip, thick and viscous, from his hand. He thinks of Sam and the blood that tainted him, corrupted him, made him ready for Lucifer, and feels a faint, disconnected sense of disgust at his own actions.
But then Sam had to take the demon blood, had to open himself to the Devil, to save the world and everyone in it. Sam Winchester’s corruption was the price that bought freedom for billions of people. Castiel smiles thinly; it is surprising, he thinks, considering all that they have done, that the Winchesters are so reluctant to accept the compromises he makes for a greater purpose.
He does not have time for abstraction. He shakes off the pensive mood, clears his thoughts and reaches into the jar again, and this time steps towards the nearest wall, a blank canvas, and begins to smear the blood into the patterns and sigils that Eleanor Visyak showed him. He regrets what he had to do to her to get them, but in the long term it is insignificant.
The sigils are roughly sketched and fading at the edges, but Castiel is an angel; he sees more than humans do, and he can see the beauty and precision behind the smeared lines. This will be his gate.
He sifts through his memories and begins to repeat the syllables that Eleanor muttered to him with painful, bloody breaths; they are not quite Enochian, though Castiel can find similarities in some of the sounds. As he speaks he can feel a vague straining presence, a stretching and tearing of reality; it intensifies with every syllable he pronounces, and with it the pride and the satisfaction swelling inside him. Finally, at the eleventh hour, Castiel can win. Castiel can destroy Raphael with the flick of a hand, and Crowley too if he chooses; he can use his power to do what his desperate explanations could not and finally, finally make Sam and Dean Winchester understand.
The last syllables leave his mouth, and as he stares into the heart of the symbol on the wall it begins to open. His human senses do not help him here, but with his angelic vision he sees…
…light.
So many lights. So much beauty and, more relevantly, so much power.
They are rushing up to meet him, through the sigils daubed in blood on the concrete wall from the place where the symbols lead. Castiel is surrounded by lights; the shadowy basement begins to fade, and he is in an infinite space, a dark abyss, but from everywhere the lights are streaming toward him.
Castiel tips back his head and laughs. Yes. He was right, he can take these souls and save the world, save the Winchesters, defeat Raphael and rebuild Heaven. The last thought Castiel has before it happens is that he is becoming who he was meant to be.
And then the lights fill him, and everything changes.