that time Castiel met Susan
animus_wyrmis and I were chatting yesterday about what if Castiel went to see Susan when he was looking for God, and this is what came out of that. A lot of it, including some specific lines, comes straight from her. <333
Where in the Worlds is Carmen Sandiego God? [I'm really bad at titles, okay? The fic is not as lol-tastic as this might lead you to believe]
Supernatural/Narnia
850 words
The door is plain, white paint smudged and trimmed with years of dirt and the brass doorknob tired from long use. This street that Castiel has brought them to is quiet; the air sighs, unimpressed, as they appear.
“Where are we?” Sam asks, checking his phone. “I’ve got no service.”
“Cas, I swear, if you’ve zapped us to Canada again -”
“Not Canada,” the angel cuts Dean’s complaint short and ineffectual. “England.”
Dean throws his hands up and walks a quick circle around the tiny porch, scanning the street.
“Why the hell are we in England, Cas? There’s an apocalypse back home, you know.” But Castiel has already moved forward to knock on the door. He feels his fist connecting with the lifeless wood, knuckles fitting into the invisible imprint of many hands before it. This place is not a fraction as ancient as the others he has been visiting, but all the same he experiences the same rush of yearning hope as when he stood in the waters of the Ganges. Any space can be sacred, he remembers, and knocks once more.
The woman who comes out of the house is very old; she steps slowly and cautiously down onto the porch, and her hands pulling the door shut behind her are mapped by deep wrinkles and their river-valley veins. For all this, when she speaks her voice is strong, soft but certain.
“Good morning, gentleman.” She looks each of them in the eye by turn, lingering upon Castiel. “May I help you?”
“Ma’am,” Dean begins, no clue why Cas has brought them to her, “we’re with the American government -”
“My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord, and I am searching for my Father. Have you seen him here?” Part of Castiel, the part that knows humans and knows how disconcerting he can be, recoils from such blunt inquiry, but his search has drawn him here, and he cannot help but speak to this woman as he would any divinity. Dean sighs loudly and turns away.
“What he means,” Sam begins a little frantically, but the woman interrupts him gently, still staring straight at Castiel.
“Oh,” she says. “No, he isn’t here.”
Dean and Sam sputter, gaping in the background as Castiel draws closer to the woman.
“Cas, let’s go,” Dean says.
“Don’t,” Sam tries. “You’ll scare her.”
“No,” Castiel replies, “I do not think this is a person who is scared by much. She has walked with my Father; I can see it on her.” The tiny, elderly woman has been quietly letting them argue, but at this she opens her mouth, pauses, then forges ahead.
“I don’t think...” She shakes her head slightly. “I don’t think that your father has been on this world in a long time.”
“Where is he then, if not on earth nor in heaven?” Castiel asks, entranced by this simple human who speaks so surely of God.
“The only time I have known God is in another world,” the lady says softly. Sam and Dean are giving each other significant glances now, and Castiel has spent enough time with them and among humans to know that speaking of other worlds is considered unrealistic, childish, insane. But Castiel is not limited by human knowledge, and it seems that this woman also knows more.
“I am searching for my Father to ask why he allows this apocalypse to move forward, and to implore him not to let my brothers and sisters bring themselves to ruin. If you return to the place where you walk with him, please tell him that.”
“I won’t be going back,” she says. “I outgrew that place long ago. And in my experience, if God wants to take something, to destroy something, there is nothing any of us can do about it. And,” she adds, voice growing slightly rough, “I’ve only known one person who could call upon God and expect him to answer.”
“Who?” Castiel asks, and when she holds silent, again, more urgently. “Please tell me who this one is who is so beloved of my Father.”
“Beloved...yes,” the lady says with a tiny sound that could be a sort of laughter. “She is gone now, and I think that perhaps God left earth when she did.” She raises her eyes from where they have been fixated on her clenched fists, and offers Castiel her hand.
“I am sorry that I cannot help you with your search, Castiel. Good luck finding your Father, and with your apocalypse.”
Cas shakes her hand then raises his in a brief, silent blessing before stepping off the porch and down the street. Nodding at the woman, Sam and Dean follow after him.
“What a bust,” Dean says. “Did the God-amulet even do anything?”
“No,” Castiel admits, touching it gently, frowning. It had not warmed at all, but as he walks away from the woman who had walked with God, he feels it grow a little colder.
In her house, Susan Pevensie kneels, raises her face to the ceiling, and prays.
Where in the Worlds is Carmen Sandiego God? [I'm really bad at titles, okay? The fic is not as lol-tastic as this might lead you to believe]
Supernatural/Narnia
850 words
The door is plain, white paint smudged and trimmed with years of dirt and the brass doorknob tired from long use. This street that Castiel has brought them to is quiet; the air sighs, unimpressed, as they appear.
“Where are we?” Sam asks, checking his phone. “I’ve got no service.”
“Cas, I swear, if you’ve zapped us to Canada again -”
“Not Canada,” the angel cuts Dean’s complaint short and ineffectual. “England.”
Dean throws his hands up and walks a quick circle around the tiny porch, scanning the street.
“Why the hell are we in England, Cas? There’s an apocalypse back home, you know.” But Castiel has already moved forward to knock on the door. He feels his fist connecting with the lifeless wood, knuckles fitting into the invisible imprint of many hands before it. This place is not a fraction as ancient as the others he has been visiting, but all the same he experiences the same rush of yearning hope as when he stood in the waters of the Ganges. Any space can be sacred, he remembers, and knocks once more.
The woman who comes out of the house is very old; she steps slowly and cautiously down onto the porch, and her hands pulling the door shut behind her are mapped by deep wrinkles and their river-valley veins. For all this, when she speaks her voice is strong, soft but certain.
“Good morning, gentleman.” She looks each of them in the eye by turn, lingering upon Castiel. “May I help you?”
“Ma’am,” Dean begins, no clue why Cas has brought them to her, “we’re with the American government -”
“My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord, and I am searching for my Father. Have you seen him here?” Part of Castiel, the part that knows humans and knows how disconcerting he can be, recoils from such blunt inquiry, but his search has drawn him here, and he cannot help but speak to this woman as he would any divinity. Dean sighs loudly and turns away.
“What he means,” Sam begins a little frantically, but the woman interrupts him gently, still staring straight at Castiel.
“Oh,” she says. “No, he isn’t here.”
Dean and Sam sputter, gaping in the background as Castiel draws closer to the woman.
“Cas, let’s go,” Dean says.
“Don’t,” Sam tries. “You’ll scare her.”
“No,” Castiel replies, “I do not think this is a person who is scared by much. She has walked with my Father; I can see it on her.” The tiny, elderly woman has been quietly letting them argue, but at this she opens her mouth, pauses, then forges ahead.
“I don’t think...” She shakes her head slightly. “I don’t think that your father has been on this world in a long time.”
“Where is he then, if not on earth nor in heaven?” Castiel asks, entranced by this simple human who speaks so surely of God.
“The only time I have known God is in another world,” the lady says softly. Sam and Dean are giving each other significant glances now, and Castiel has spent enough time with them and among humans to know that speaking of other worlds is considered unrealistic, childish, insane. But Castiel is not limited by human knowledge, and it seems that this woman also knows more.
“I am searching for my Father to ask why he allows this apocalypse to move forward, and to implore him not to let my brothers and sisters bring themselves to ruin. If you return to the place where you walk with him, please tell him that.”
“I won’t be going back,” she says. “I outgrew that place long ago. And in my experience, if God wants to take something, to destroy something, there is nothing any of us can do about it. And,” she adds, voice growing slightly rough, “I’ve only known one person who could call upon God and expect him to answer.”
“Who?” Castiel asks, and when she holds silent, again, more urgently. “Please tell me who this one is who is so beloved of my Father.”
“Beloved...yes,” the lady says with a tiny sound that could be a sort of laughter. “She is gone now, and I think that perhaps God left earth when she did.” She raises her eyes from where they have been fixated on her clenched fists, and offers Castiel her hand.
“I am sorry that I cannot help you with your search, Castiel. Good luck finding your Father, and with your apocalypse.”
Cas shakes her hand then raises his in a brief, silent blessing before stepping off the porch and down the street. Nodding at the woman, Sam and Dean follow after him.
“What a bust,” Dean says. “Did the God-amulet even do anything?”
“No,” Castiel admits, touching it gently, frowning. It had not warmed at all, but as he walks away from the woman who had walked with God, he feels it grow a little colder.
In her house, Susan Pevensie kneels, raises her face to the ceiling, and prays.