HP/SPN: Touched by an Angel (Harry/Castiel)
Title: Touched by an Angel (XXVIII)
Author: nilitara
Fandom: HP, SPN
Rating: PG
Charaters: Harry, Castiel
Summary: Harry is trying to make sense of what's going on as if feels his life slipping away.
For: crossovers100
Prompt: 030. Death.
Disclaimer: The characters are the property of their respective creator. I own nothing.
Touched by an Angel - Main entry
030. Death.
Harry was feeling as if his head was full of cotton. He could only see a blur of images, nothing really clear, hear sounds that evidently belonged to a war zone, all around him. It took him back to his time at Hogwarts except… except it seemed worse. The war was one of a greater importance, even though they were once again standing in a field, far away from any civilization, from anything else. It was a good thing, though, it was the only way no bystanders would be injured.
He was on the ground, either sitting down or maybe lying down. Yes, he was lying down, that had to be it. Because he could see the sky above him. Barely, there was so much smoke and fire… like a rain of fire. Yet, he could see through it all. It was a nice night, he mused distractedly. There was no clouds, no rain, just an endless sky filled with an infinity of stars. He could see them
Instinctively, his eyes moved to see his own star, the star he had decided to claim at the end of his fifth year. Sirius. Every time he had needed some guidance after his godfather’s death, he had looked up in the sky to find the dog star and had talked to it, as if he was talking to the man himself. It had been nice. It had been as if Sirius had never left and now, he could feel himself do it once again.
He was wondering how he had ended up there. Oh, it wasn’t any kind of existential question. He wasn’t asking himself about why he was on Earth, or even why he was in the midst of a battle. No, he was wondering the reason he was lying down there, when he could clearly hear the fight still raging beside him. No, not beside him. It was strange, minutes ago it seemed that his ears were filled with screams and drumming and fighting but now it was as if the sounds were coming from far away in the distance.
Had the battle moved?
He could feel his eyes beginning to close but he fought against the exhaustion. It wasn’t the time to go to sleep. Yet, he was lying down. Why was he lying down? He was trying to remember but he could only see flashes behind his eyes, flashes of monsters’ faces, flashes of parrying move, flashes of spell he, himself had used against his opponents, flashes of metal, the weapons used by some of their enemies.
He was feeling light. It was as if his body had no more mass, wasn’t weighting anything. He couldn’t even feel it anymore, he realized distantly. It was as if he was in a dream. There was no pain but his mind was telling him that he must have been in pain at some point because it was the only reason he would be lying there instead of fighting with the rest of them. Yet, no, there was nothing.
Another flashes and he suddenly remembered the blade, the sharpest one he had ever seen, as sharp as the one he knew Ruby had used once or twice. In should have hurt, Harry told himself as he remembered it slashing his flesh, tearing his body apart. He should have been feeling the wounds but he didn’t.
He mustered the strength to move his hand from the ground to his stomach and, while there was to hurting, he could feel the blood coating his hand, see the redness seeing through his finger as he lifted them in front of his eyes.
Oh. That would explain it, then.
He was bleeding and quite a lot by the look of it. He had a feeling he should be scared but he wasn’t. he wasn’t feeling anything but a sort of peace which, considering the circumstances and the war raging close by, was strange and a very bad sign, he realized.
The last time he had died, it had been immediate. He hadn’t felt a thing, had just seen a flash of green light and them, he was dead. This time, though, he could feel his life slipping away from him. It was bad, very bad but it didn’t hurt. It was as if he was feeling asleep, just as his father had told him when he had used the Stone. He had been right.
He closed his eyes, only for a second, but when he opened them again, everything had changed. It was bright, so bright. He didn’t really understand because it was still nighttime and he could still see the battlefield and the soldiers with their weapon but it was as if there was a screen in front of it, a filter. It was like a window he could see through but were an image was painted on.
The window showed a sunny place, a place that was becoming clearer, until he could make out what it was exactly.
King Cross.
He could see King Cross, not the way it had been when he had boarded on the Hogwarts express to go to school, but as it had been when he had talked to Dumbledore for the very last time. In that second, he knew.
He was on the verge of dying.