Unexpected Destinies Chapter 95
Title: Unexpected Destinies
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: up to and including Exile on Main St., AU from the end of season 5
Warnings: AU, slash
Word Count: 2,682
Summary: Michael and Dean deliver Castiel into the Healer's care.
PAST
Vaguely Dean was aware that they were in Heaven when they arrived somewhere new filled with angels, but it was a distant awareness made insignificant by the broken and precious burden Michael held in their arms. The flight had clearly caused Castiel great agony despite how gentle Michael had been and his lover was unable to contain all of his pain though he knew his angel well enough to know that he'd tried and that only made things worse for him. If Castiel sounded this bad despite all of his best efforts then how much was it really hurting his lover? Luckily the Healers needed no more prompting other than their sudden appearance as they sprang into action at once.
Instead of crowding around them as human paramedics might have, the Healers made room so that Michael was able to approach and lower Castiel carefully onto what looked more like a padded altar than a bed but Dean guessed that was the purpose it served. It made sense that it didn't much resemble a bed as angels had no use for those while an altar would be something far more familiar to them. Not to mention the fact that they'd be constantly praying to their Father to step in and aid their injured sibling. At this very moment he knew that he'd drop to his own knees and pray as well if he believed that it could possibly aid Castiel's recovery.
Dean had been so focused on his lover that while he'd noticed the other angels around them, he hadn't actually noticed them. At least not properly. Therefore it was with a start that he suddenly realized that with the exception of himself and Castiel, none of them were human. Or rather, none of them were currently in a human vessel. Instead they were all as Lucifer had been when he'd seen the devil in his cage, nothing but unrestrained Grace in all of its bright, shiny and shimmering glory. Everywhere he looked Grace shifted and rippled, faces ranging from humanoid to the extremes of the animal and the mythical, though almost all of them were static, completely unlike the rapidly shifting and morphing of Lucifer's enraged form. He chose to take it as a good thing, a sign that these angels were far more calm and in control than the devil had been even if they were now faced with an unexpected medical emergency situation.
The first time that one of his angels had mentioned the Healers it had caught Dean completely by surprise. Yes he'd known by that point that there were different classes of angels, the Seraph and Virtues among them, but the fact that there were Healers was not something that he'd ever really considered or expected. Angels had seemed so incredibly impervious to almost everything that he'd assumed on some level that they would have no need for doctors and the like. After all, the vast majority of angels that he'd seen be hurt in some way had seemed to take care of themselves without any outside assistance. So much for assumptions.
After having only ever seen angels in vessels with the one glaring exception of Lucifer in his cage while performing the Rite of Contressa with Michael, it threw Dean for a loop to see so many of them in their true forms even though he really should have expected it what with his currently being in Heaven and all.
"Their lack of a vessel is the reason why I tended to Castiel myself instead of summoning help," Michael stated, clearly having heard enough of his thoughts to be able to follow his line of thinking. "It would have taken them far longer to find their vessels and obtain the necessary permission to take them then it did for me to stabilize Castiel enough for transport."
"Oh."
He hadn't really given the matter much thought, his attention focused elsewhere for good reason. But it made sense to Dean and part of him also approved of the fact that the archangel had acted in such a manner that less people had needed to become aware of the very real existence of angels or the Apocalypse that was about to restart around them. While he was definitely a big fan of people being properly protected and not being vulnerable, he was also totally for them never learning the truth about what was out there simply because once someone's eyes had been opened, they could never go back to their old life. At least not completely. Just knowing what went bump in the night tended to have a dramatic effect on people and their ease of mind. No, he'd much rather that as many people as possible remained ignorant and, most importantly, innocent of the evil and darkness out there to which they were mostly helpless.
Not to mention the fact that the amateurs who tried to do something to help others generally ended up only getting themselves and others killed in the process.
"Michael," one of the healers suddenly said, stepping forwards. "Castiel has been severely injured, to the extent where we truly require Raphael's expertise in these matters."
"Yes, of course, Miniel," Michael replied. "I shall go relieve him so he can come here at once. Please keep me informed of Castiel's progress when you have the time."
"Whoa, wait, what?" Dean demanded, not liking what he was hearing, not at all. "No! We can't go, Cas needs us!"
"Of course, Brother," Miniel promised.
"At the moment he needs Raphael more, Little One," Michael stated, stretching his many wings and taking flight.
"No!" Dean screamed, surging forwards to try and make the archangel turn around. "We can't leave him, he's hurt! Just call Raphael."
"The cage must not be left without proper protection and with Simiel free that means that there must be an archangel present at all times, otherwise the others standing guard as exposed to unnecessary risks. You know this, Little One."
"Screw the cage and screw Lucifer!" Dean snarled, furious as he started to struggle in earnest. "I don't give a crap about that. Cas is hurt, damnit! Turn back."
"You do not mean that."
"Like hell I don't!"
"Dean-"
"What the fuck does it matter anyway?" Dean demanded. "He'll be out within a week anyway, that's what you said the other day. Who cares if he gets out a few days earlier?"
"You of all people should know how much damage my brother is capable of wrecking in a very short amount of time."
"You said he'd be weak!"
"Being weak is not the same as being unable to act," Michael replied. "If anything what we did to him with the Rite of Contressa will have infuriated him even more than simply being locked back up in his cage did and trust me, Little One, he was already unbelievably enraged with you for that particular triumph of yours."
"Turn back. Now."
"No."
Although on some level Dean hadn't truly been expecting any other reply, the single word, the single denial of his demand, was like a bucket of ice water. It managed to freeze him both physically as well as all the way down to his very core. It was horror, dread and agony all rolled into one sharp, hard syllable. It was the dreaded horror from before the temporary halt they'd managed to wrestle the Apocalypse to and the main theme from his nightmares since the day Zachariah had told him that he was Michael's vessel in his father's old storage locker. It was the soul wrenching fear of being taken and made into nothing more than a helpless puppet within his own mind, having absolutely no control over his meatsuit and what it did while an archangel called the shots and did stuff he'd never dream of doing not to mention not being at all what he wanted to do at this particular point in time.
Now, just like before when he'd awakened after Michael had taken him that first time or when the archangel had started to rifle through his memories looking for those with himself and Castiel, Dean found his struggles to be more or less futile. Oh he was giving it his all despite that, needing to get back to his lover and do whatever he could to help his angel, but it seemed to do jack shit. The ease with which Michael seemed to be able to block his attempts to regain some control over his own meatsuit merely served to wind him up even more and made him that much more determined to wrest power back from the archangel so he could return to his lover's side where he belonged.
"Dean, please, do not do this," Michael said just as he lost his connection with his meatsuit entirely and was left trapped in the Grace light of his own mind. "You have to see that we must do this. We-"
"Back! Take us back now."
"I cannot leave the cage undefended."
"Fine, you go back but leave me with Cas."
"Castiel is in Heaven at the moment, you cannot go there-"
"So kill me and then send me up there."
"Little One!"
The shock and reproach in the reply were entirely lost on Dean, instead all he heard was the clear denial in those two little words. It was all he needed to know to persist in his struggles. If Michael wouldn't take them back and the archangel outright refused to ensure that he'd be able to be at Castiel's side, then he had to take matters into his own hands. Which he would, just as soon as he was able to regain control over his own meatsuit, no way was he letting something like this stand in his way of being there when his lover needed him most. It was what allowed him to continue lashing out even as Michael's Grace seemed to constrict around him, slowly but surely restraining his flailing arms and legs and pinning them in place against the rest of his body.
Dean was only half aware of the wild, animalistic sounds escaping his lips but he couldn't bring himself to care. He kept fighting and tried desperately to ignore the worry and anguish he could feel coming from his friend along the bond that they currently shared as angel and vessel. He didn't care what Michael was feeling at the moment, he just need Castiel, his Cas. All he could see before his eyes was his lover's tortured and mangled body as it had been, lying on the cold warehouse floor ravaged by the Holy oil and fire so badly that he wasn't sure his angel would ever fully recover. And now, instead of allowing him to remain by Castiel's side so that he could monitor his lover's recovery and the work of the Healers, Michael was forcibly taking him away against his will to babysit a brother that was bound to break free any day now on his own. It was stupid and pointless and not what he wanted to do!
The memories of the warehouse did remind Dean of how they'd gotten there in the first place and he was already reaching for the bond he shared with his lover before he'd consciously made the decision. The instinctive nature of the action startled him, but he let it slide, wanting and needing the connection with Castiel far too badly to question anything that made his ability to obtain it any easier. It took longer than before, probably due to a combination of the fact that he was fighting Michael's hold on him and the fact that his friend wasn't actively trying to help him this time, but he managed it nonetheless. He gave a small cry of joy as the essence of Castiel flooded over and through him, but then it was followed swiftly by the unbearable, all-consuming pain that he'd felt before and his cry choked off, strangled.
"No, Little One, you must not," Michael interjected and suddenly the connection was simply gone.
The abrupt loss and the reminder of exactly how much agony his lover was in made Dean lose whatever restraint and grasp on sanity he had left and with a snarl he began throwing himself at the archangel's hold on him. He wasn't entirely sure what he was capable of here as he was trapped within his own mind, but based on what Michael had said before, he more or less was his soul right now. Sure, he still seemed to be what he was like in his meatsuit, but that had more to do with the fact that his mind and soul were unable to let go of that image of himself than the fact that it was any true representation of who and what he was right now. He felt something flare within him and the hold on him seemed to weaken, but only briefly before he was fully immobilized once more but he continued to strain against it.
"Little One, please, stop," Michael's true voice begged, echoing all around him in that odd way which seemed to only happen here in his own head. It figured that his mind had some fucked up acoustics. "Please, Dean."
The words and tone of voice, the gentle restraint he felt all around him and the wash off he was getting of the archangel's own emotions combined to overwhelm Dean and he sobbed involuntarily, his resistance fading away with his anger as suddenly as they'd flared up and all he was left with were fear, desperation and helplessness. The fists he'd used to pound against Michael and his Grace had lost their tension while he wasn't paying attention and were now instead clutching almost desperately at the archangel who'd appeared before him. Not allowing himself to think about it for even a second, he buried his face into Michael's neck and hung on for dear life as his wayward emotions burst out of him uncontrollably. This new loss of control scared the crap out of him as it had never before happened to him as far back as he could remember though he felt like it was something one might do with a parent under more normal circumstances.
"Shh, hush, Little One," Michael soothed, whispering in his ear and running gentle hands up and down his back. "I know you wish to be with your mate, but this is truly the best way to help him, I promise."
Dean felt utterly drained now and hiccupped against the archangel's shoulder, hands tightening further into veritable death grips on Michael's clothing. Or rather the mental representation of Deirdre's clothing.
"Cas," was all Dean managed to force out, utterly miserable.
"When he is more fully healed and you have regained enough control, you can re-establish the direct connection you share with him," Michael promised.
"You blocked it," Dean accused though it was without any true heat.
Between the archangel's own roiling emotions and the gentle way his soul was being cradled and stroked, Dean found that most of his true ire had vanished leaving him instead with the more heavy burden of fear and worry.
"Feeling what Castiel does at the moment will not do you any good and will only serve to torture you. In addition you are not fully in control of yourself and it will not help Castiel to feel your anguish and despair. He would only attempt to leave the Healers to come find you."
The words sent a little shock of horror through Dean as he knew they were true. If his lover thought that he was in any danger or simply in need of help, then Castiel would abandon all else, including his own health, to come to him. He still couldn't understand what possessed the poor, stupid fool to see so much in him, but he wasn't going to allow it to interfere with what his angel needed even if it meant not being directly connected with Castiel just now.
A.N.: Just a quick heads up, I've got some guests coming over, so my writing time will probably be limited until after the weekend.
Chapter 96
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: up to and including Exile on Main St., AU from the end of season 5
Warnings: AU, slash
Word Count: 2,682
Summary: Michael and Dean deliver Castiel into the Healer's care.
PAST
Vaguely Dean was aware that they were in Heaven when they arrived somewhere new filled with angels, but it was a distant awareness made insignificant by the broken and precious burden Michael held in their arms. The flight had clearly caused Castiel great agony despite how gentle Michael had been and his lover was unable to contain all of his pain though he knew his angel well enough to know that he'd tried and that only made things worse for him. If Castiel sounded this bad despite all of his best efforts then how much was it really hurting his lover? Luckily the Healers needed no more prompting other than their sudden appearance as they sprang into action at once.
Instead of crowding around them as human paramedics might have, the Healers made room so that Michael was able to approach and lower Castiel carefully onto what looked more like a padded altar than a bed but Dean guessed that was the purpose it served. It made sense that it didn't much resemble a bed as angels had no use for those while an altar would be something far more familiar to them. Not to mention the fact that they'd be constantly praying to their Father to step in and aid their injured sibling. At this very moment he knew that he'd drop to his own knees and pray as well if he believed that it could possibly aid Castiel's recovery.
Dean had been so focused on his lover that while he'd noticed the other angels around them, he hadn't actually noticed them. At least not properly. Therefore it was with a start that he suddenly realized that with the exception of himself and Castiel, none of them were human. Or rather, none of them were currently in a human vessel. Instead they were all as Lucifer had been when he'd seen the devil in his cage, nothing but unrestrained Grace in all of its bright, shiny and shimmering glory. Everywhere he looked Grace shifted and rippled, faces ranging from humanoid to the extremes of the animal and the mythical, though almost all of them were static, completely unlike the rapidly shifting and morphing of Lucifer's enraged form. He chose to take it as a good thing, a sign that these angels were far more calm and in control than the devil had been even if they were now faced with an unexpected medical emergency situation.
The first time that one of his angels had mentioned the Healers it had caught Dean completely by surprise. Yes he'd known by that point that there were different classes of angels, the Seraph and Virtues among them, but the fact that there were Healers was not something that he'd ever really considered or expected. Angels had seemed so incredibly impervious to almost everything that he'd assumed on some level that they would have no need for doctors and the like. After all, the vast majority of angels that he'd seen be hurt in some way had seemed to take care of themselves without any outside assistance. So much for assumptions.
After having only ever seen angels in vessels with the one glaring exception of Lucifer in his cage while performing the Rite of Contressa with Michael, it threw Dean for a loop to see so many of them in their true forms even though he really should have expected it what with his currently being in Heaven and all.
"Their lack of a vessel is the reason why I tended to Castiel myself instead of summoning help," Michael stated, clearly having heard enough of his thoughts to be able to follow his line of thinking. "It would have taken them far longer to find their vessels and obtain the necessary permission to take them then it did for me to stabilize Castiel enough for transport."
"Oh."
He hadn't really given the matter much thought, his attention focused elsewhere for good reason. But it made sense to Dean and part of him also approved of the fact that the archangel had acted in such a manner that less people had needed to become aware of the very real existence of angels or the Apocalypse that was about to restart around them. While he was definitely a big fan of people being properly protected and not being vulnerable, he was also totally for them never learning the truth about what was out there simply because once someone's eyes had been opened, they could never go back to their old life. At least not completely. Just knowing what went bump in the night tended to have a dramatic effect on people and their ease of mind. No, he'd much rather that as many people as possible remained ignorant and, most importantly, innocent of the evil and darkness out there to which they were mostly helpless.
Not to mention the fact that the amateurs who tried to do something to help others generally ended up only getting themselves and others killed in the process.
"Michael," one of the healers suddenly said, stepping forwards. "Castiel has been severely injured, to the extent where we truly require Raphael's expertise in these matters."
"Yes, of course, Miniel," Michael replied. "I shall go relieve him so he can come here at once. Please keep me informed of Castiel's progress when you have the time."
"Whoa, wait, what?" Dean demanded, not liking what he was hearing, not at all. "No! We can't go, Cas needs us!"
"Of course, Brother," Miniel promised.
"At the moment he needs Raphael more, Little One," Michael stated, stretching his many wings and taking flight.
"No!" Dean screamed, surging forwards to try and make the archangel turn around. "We can't leave him, he's hurt! Just call Raphael."
"The cage must not be left without proper protection and with Simiel free that means that there must be an archangel present at all times, otherwise the others standing guard as exposed to unnecessary risks. You know this, Little One."
"Screw the cage and screw Lucifer!" Dean snarled, furious as he started to struggle in earnest. "I don't give a crap about that. Cas is hurt, damnit! Turn back."
"You do not mean that."
"Like hell I don't!"
"Dean-"
"What the fuck does it matter anyway?" Dean demanded. "He'll be out within a week anyway, that's what you said the other day. Who cares if he gets out a few days earlier?"
"You of all people should know how much damage my brother is capable of wrecking in a very short amount of time."
"You said he'd be weak!"
"Being weak is not the same as being unable to act," Michael replied. "If anything what we did to him with the Rite of Contressa will have infuriated him even more than simply being locked back up in his cage did and trust me, Little One, he was already unbelievably enraged with you for that particular triumph of yours."
"Turn back. Now."
"No."
Although on some level Dean hadn't truly been expecting any other reply, the single word, the single denial of his demand, was like a bucket of ice water. It managed to freeze him both physically as well as all the way down to his very core. It was horror, dread and agony all rolled into one sharp, hard syllable. It was the dreaded horror from before the temporary halt they'd managed to wrestle the Apocalypse to and the main theme from his nightmares since the day Zachariah had told him that he was Michael's vessel in his father's old storage locker. It was the soul wrenching fear of being taken and made into nothing more than a helpless puppet within his own mind, having absolutely no control over his meatsuit and what it did while an archangel called the shots and did stuff he'd never dream of doing not to mention not being at all what he wanted to do at this particular point in time.
Now, just like before when he'd awakened after Michael had taken him that first time or when the archangel had started to rifle through his memories looking for those with himself and Castiel, Dean found his struggles to be more or less futile. Oh he was giving it his all despite that, needing to get back to his lover and do whatever he could to help his angel, but it seemed to do jack shit. The ease with which Michael seemed to be able to block his attempts to regain some control over his own meatsuit merely served to wind him up even more and made him that much more determined to wrest power back from the archangel so he could return to his lover's side where he belonged.
"Dean, please, do not do this," Michael said just as he lost his connection with his meatsuit entirely and was left trapped in the Grace light of his own mind. "You have to see that we must do this. We-"
"Back! Take us back now."
"I cannot leave the cage undefended."
"Fine, you go back but leave me with Cas."
"Castiel is in Heaven at the moment, you cannot go there-"
"So kill me and then send me up there."
"Little One!"
The shock and reproach in the reply were entirely lost on Dean, instead all he heard was the clear denial in those two little words. It was all he needed to know to persist in his struggles. If Michael wouldn't take them back and the archangel outright refused to ensure that he'd be able to be at Castiel's side, then he had to take matters into his own hands. Which he would, just as soon as he was able to regain control over his own meatsuit, no way was he letting something like this stand in his way of being there when his lover needed him most. It was what allowed him to continue lashing out even as Michael's Grace seemed to constrict around him, slowly but surely restraining his flailing arms and legs and pinning them in place against the rest of his body.
Dean was only half aware of the wild, animalistic sounds escaping his lips but he couldn't bring himself to care. He kept fighting and tried desperately to ignore the worry and anguish he could feel coming from his friend along the bond that they currently shared as angel and vessel. He didn't care what Michael was feeling at the moment, he just need Castiel, his Cas. All he could see before his eyes was his lover's tortured and mangled body as it had been, lying on the cold warehouse floor ravaged by the Holy oil and fire so badly that he wasn't sure his angel would ever fully recover. And now, instead of allowing him to remain by Castiel's side so that he could monitor his lover's recovery and the work of the Healers, Michael was forcibly taking him away against his will to babysit a brother that was bound to break free any day now on his own. It was stupid and pointless and not what he wanted to do!
The memories of the warehouse did remind Dean of how they'd gotten there in the first place and he was already reaching for the bond he shared with his lover before he'd consciously made the decision. The instinctive nature of the action startled him, but he let it slide, wanting and needing the connection with Castiel far too badly to question anything that made his ability to obtain it any easier. It took longer than before, probably due to a combination of the fact that he was fighting Michael's hold on him and the fact that his friend wasn't actively trying to help him this time, but he managed it nonetheless. He gave a small cry of joy as the essence of Castiel flooded over and through him, but then it was followed swiftly by the unbearable, all-consuming pain that he'd felt before and his cry choked off, strangled.
"No, Little One, you must not," Michael interjected and suddenly the connection was simply gone.
The abrupt loss and the reminder of exactly how much agony his lover was in made Dean lose whatever restraint and grasp on sanity he had left and with a snarl he began throwing himself at the archangel's hold on him. He wasn't entirely sure what he was capable of here as he was trapped within his own mind, but based on what Michael had said before, he more or less was his soul right now. Sure, he still seemed to be what he was like in his meatsuit, but that had more to do with the fact that his mind and soul were unable to let go of that image of himself than the fact that it was any true representation of who and what he was right now. He felt something flare within him and the hold on him seemed to weaken, but only briefly before he was fully immobilized once more but he continued to strain against it.
"Little One, please, stop," Michael's true voice begged, echoing all around him in that odd way which seemed to only happen here in his own head. It figured that his mind had some fucked up acoustics. "Please, Dean."
The words and tone of voice, the gentle restraint he felt all around him and the wash off he was getting of the archangel's own emotions combined to overwhelm Dean and he sobbed involuntarily, his resistance fading away with his anger as suddenly as they'd flared up and all he was left with were fear, desperation and helplessness. The fists he'd used to pound against Michael and his Grace had lost their tension while he wasn't paying attention and were now instead clutching almost desperately at the archangel who'd appeared before him. Not allowing himself to think about it for even a second, he buried his face into Michael's neck and hung on for dear life as his wayward emotions burst out of him uncontrollably. This new loss of control scared the crap out of him as it had never before happened to him as far back as he could remember though he felt like it was something one might do with a parent under more normal circumstances.
"Shh, hush, Little One," Michael soothed, whispering in his ear and running gentle hands up and down his back. "I know you wish to be with your mate, but this is truly the best way to help him, I promise."
Dean felt utterly drained now and hiccupped against the archangel's shoulder, hands tightening further into veritable death grips on Michael's clothing. Or rather the mental representation of Deirdre's clothing.
"Cas," was all Dean managed to force out, utterly miserable.
"When he is more fully healed and you have regained enough control, you can re-establish the direct connection you share with him," Michael promised.
"You blocked it," Dean accused though it was without any true heat.
Between the archangel's own roiling emotions and the gentle way his soul was being cradled and stroked, Dean found that most of his true ire had vanished leaving him instead with the more heavy burden of fear and worry.
"Feeling what Castiel does at the moment will not do you any good and will only serve to torture you. In addition you are not fully in control of yourself and it will not help Castiel to feel your anguish and despair. He would only attempt to leave the Healers to come find you."
The words sent a little shock of horror through Dean as he knew they were true. If his lover thought that he was in any danger or simply in need of help, then Castiel would abandon all else, including his own health, to come to him. He still couldn't understand what possessed the poor, stupid fool to see so much in him, but he wasn't going to allow it to interfere with what his angel needed even if it meant not being directly connected with Castiel just now.
A.N.: Just a quick heads up, I've got some guests coming over, so my writing time will probably be limited until after the weekend.
Chapter 96