Drabbles - Castiel & Ayla
The first three times Castiel, the angel, meets Ayla, the reaper.
I.
They meet by accident, in the same place, wrong place, wrong time. He knows why she's there, but she stays back, goes the long way around to hit the granite some feet away. He can see her, and he has a feeling that's because she wants him to.
"They're already gone," she says, eyes bright gold when she looks at him. Like she's really there, in more than name only. "You don't have to stay here."
"I know," he says, and she steps forward, walking on the earth where grass hasn't grown back yet from digging the graves.
"I wasn't sure you did."
II.
He knows better than to ask, but he's in enough trouble already, and this won't make his punishment any worse. It won't make it any better, either, but he knows that. So he tracks her down, in some dingy after-hours bar in downtown Chicago, doesn't bother with small-talk before he asks.
She shakes her head, smiles thinly at her drink. "You know the answer already. Don't ask me questions like that."
"I need to know." He needs to know that after all they had done, after all he had done...
"And I can't tell you. I'm sorry." She even sounds like she means it.
III.
She finds him the next time. He's not back there again, but he's close, not far enough to keep from thinking of them. He doesn't recognize her at first, until he catches her eye, sees the gold.
"What do you want?" He's not hostile. Just asking, quiet but not necessarily confrontational.
She smiles, easy, like a lie, sits crookedly on the fence in front of him and asks, "What's heaven like?"
"Why do you want to know?" His question gets a laugh.
"Cos I'm never going there," she says, smiling like it was a joke, but he thinks maybe it wasn't one, really.
I.
They meet by accident, in the same place, wrong place, wrong time. He knows why she's there, but she stays back, goes the long way around to hit the granite some feet away. He can see her, and he has a feeling that's because she wants him to.
"They're already gone," she says, eyes bright gold when she looks at him. Like she's really there, in more than name only. "You don't have to stay here."
"I know," he says, and she steps forward, walking on the earth where grass hasn't grown back yet from digging the graves.
"I wasn't sure you did."
II.
He knows better than to ask, but he's in enough trouble already, and this won't make his punishment any worse. It won't make it any better, either, but he knows that. So he tracks her down, in some dingy after-hours bar in downtown Chicago, doesn't bother with small-talk before he asks.
She shakes her head, smiles thinly at her drink. "You know the answer already. Don't ask me questions like that."
"I need to know." He needs to know that after all they had done, after all he had done...
"And I can't tell you. I'm sorry." She even sounds like she means it.
III.
She finds him the next time. He's not back there again, but he's close, not far enough to keep from thinking of them. He doesn't recognize her at first, until he catches her eye, sees the gold.
"What do you want?" He's not hostile. Just asking, quiet but not necessarily confrontational.
She smiles, easy, like a lie, sits crookedly on the fence in front of him and asks, "What's heaven like?"
"Why do you want to know?" His question gets a laugh.
"Cos I'm never going there," she says, smiling like it was a joke, but he thinks maybe it wasn't one, really.