[and then shall that wicked be revealed] Part IV - epilogue
Title: and then shall that wicked be revealed 4/4
Fandoms: Supernatural/Doctor Who/Bioshock; SUPERWHOSHOCK
Summary: Castiel's gone missing, and finding one wayward angel in all of space and time is a bit like finding a needle in a haystack. Good thing he left a message behind-now there's only the matter of figuring out what this mysterious "Rapture" is. In which the splicers have the phone box, the Doctor has an angel for a BFF, Castiel uses a Little Sister for a temporary vessel, and everything’s really about family in the end.
The interior of the TARDIS is the best thing Dean has seen in weeks. He slides down to the floor, still clutching Cas to his chest, and laughs when long brown hair half out of its ponytail tickles his nose. Castiel looks up at him, relieved and concerned in equal measures, eyes still bright with pain. Dean laughs and laughs, and holds Cas tight, his shoulders shaking.
Sam looks at him like he’s gone crazy, and the Doctor is warily creeping around the controls as the TARDIS groans and thrashes around the vortex.
Dean laughs and presses a kiss to the wall next to his head, because she’s the most lovely thing he’s ever seen, and it’s funny, it really is, because he’s sure as hell not afraid of flying anymore.
Masha Lutz’s hair looks odd in the sunlight-the gray of her skin somber rather than horrifying, the yellow glow of her eyes soft rather than eerie.
There’s nothing to be done with the bloodstained dress, but it’s apparently horrifying enough that River takes one look at the form he is in and pulls Castiel to the side. She bathes him, setting him down in a jacuzzi sized bathtub the TARDIS pulls out of nowhere and scrubs at his ankles and between his toes until all the blood and grime has been washed away. She washes Castiel’s hair, tugging the ribbon out of it and kneading shampoo into Castiel’s scalp until the smell is gone. Afterwards, she takes him to the first wardrobe and doesn’t even listen to Castiel when he protests that really, he’s utterly fine.
When she marches him back into the control room, Dean does a double take and Sam laughs himself hoarse in the hallway. The trousers fit oddly, but Castiel assumes it’s because they’re from the 1920s rather than because there’s an issue with the body he’s in. The shirt is crisp, and clings to Masha’s frame loosely-but it’s the miniature tie around his neck that is probably causing Sam’s laughter. It isn’t quite the suit and trenchcoat that he’d grown accustomed to, but it’s close enough that Castiel feels at ease, with Masha’s feet shoved into tiny loafers and an ill fitting suit wrapped around his skin.
When the Doctor sees him, he smiles softly, and immediately goes back into the wardrobe. They listen to him rummage for a few minutes before he emerges, smiling triumphantly, a pair of tiny braces in his hands.
He fastidiously clips them into place, snapping the elastic over Castiel’s shoulders once they’re secure. He grins some more, and finally Dean interrupts with a snort. “You’re corrupting him with suspenders? Really?”
Castiel looks over to him and grins, because he learned quickly that in this form, it terrifies Dean. Perhaps Dean’s sense of humor is finally rubbing off on him, because he finds it extremely amusing. “Jimmy Novak wore suspenders, Dean.”
As Dean splutters, River cocks her head at him. “Really?” she breathes, dragging the syllables, intrigue bleeding into her tone.
“Not your kind of suspenders,” Sam laughs. “Braces-Jimmy Novak wore braces, not a garter belt.” Sam grins at her, taking a sip of the tea that she presses into his hands.
“Oh English, you wonderful language,” Dean says, rolling his eyes skyward.
The Doctor strokes a hand across Castiel’s cheek to get his attention, still crouched to his level, nearly sitting on the floor. “How’s she doing?” he asks.
Castiel probes inwards and flinches at what he sees. “She is not well. Her body will not hold up much longer, I fear.”
Dean glances away from bickering with River and Sam, looking concerned. “But your body-”
The Doctor rolls his eyes at Castiel and speaks without turning to face Dean. “What exactly are you inside of right now, Dean Winchester?” he asks, tone patient, used to the humans having to take some time to play catch up.
Dean’s eyes go wide and Castiel smiles. “I told you,” he points out sagely. “We have all the time we could possibly want.”
Being back in Jimmy’s skin is truly like coming home.
The first thing he does is kiss Dean.
He’s been waiting long enough.
The second thing he does is eradicate the worm, ridding the girl of the demon blood in her system before she even wakes fully, slumped to the ground in Castiel’s miniature suit. They watch as her skin blushes pink, holding their breaths as the Doctor does his best to telepathically remove the majority of her mental conditioning. The cracks in her mind mend, and as they do so, her will becomes stronger.
When Masha finally opens her eyes, they are blue and curious.
“Who are you?” she asks, head cocked to one side-gaze sharp.
“We have ourselves a mini-Castiel,” River giggles, Sam joining her after a few seconds of scrutinizing the child. Castiel is not sure of how to feel about this, and judging by his face, neither does Dean. The Doctor just looks at her fondly though, bending down to her level the same way he had with Castiel. “That we do,” he whispers, playfully tousling the girls hair.
She giggles.
It isn’t easy, and it sure as hell isn’t perfect. For weeks, Masha won’t step foot outside of the TARDIS, curling up on cots with Castiel to sleep. The mental conditioning is slow to fade from her mind, sloughing away like dead skin as the months pass. Her first outing is to Bobby’s, where Castiel and the Doctor hold her hands as they walk between all the cars. At first, she’s shy around Bobby, hiding behind Castiel’s knees when he gets too close. She acts the same way with Amy and Rory, and it takes some time before she starts to climb into Grandpa Bobby’s lap for storytime, or comfortable enough around Amy to tug on her orange hair.
Raising her isn’t the easiest, especially with a family this big.
When she gets older, Masha will steal the TARDIS a bit too often for comfort and come back weeks later with a years growth of hair spilling out of her ponytail and her nails chipped, grease streaked across her face and glasses slightly askew. When the Doctor asks where she’s been, she’ll shrug and ask him how his visit was with Papa Dean and Daddy Cas. She’ll be a right pain in the ass, but she’ll be clever about it-the Doctor’s smarts and the Winchester ability to get herself into trouble. Luckily enough, she also picked up River’s ability to get herself in and out of trouble faster than one can blink. She’ll wear ill fitting suits, crooked ties, and suspenders for as long as she knows how to run, though she trades out the loafers for a pair of sneakers the day she turns thirteen.
While she’s young she’ll spend weekends with the Winchesters, reluctantly letting Sam feed her salad and take her to get her first pair of glasses-learning how to properly care for a car with Dean, tucked under the Impala with him, and later, helping him polish the knives-and with Castiel? Well, with Castiel she learns languages, fluent in Enochian by ten years and in half a dozen other human languages by the time she’s twelve. He takes her flying, and she can’t see his wings, but she has vague memories of his Grace, burning brightly in that terrible place.
With the Ponds, she does normal little kid things, parks and feeding ducks and helping Auntie Amy tinker with a new perfume. Uncle Rory tells her stories of the Doctor and the adventures that they’d had before she came to them, and she giggles when he tickles her during the scary parts.
It isn’t the perfect fairytale ending, not the way that her childhood is half hazy memories of roses and ivy and angels sleeping on marble floors. Mama River still isn’t home enough and the Doctor still gets them into too much trouble. It’s Winchester luck, he always told her, that knack for getting into trouble. She won’t judge them for it, because they’re family, and as far as she’s concerned, they’re just as much her parents as River and the Doctor are. She’s a Winchester just as much as she is a Pond or a Song, just as she once was a Lutz, before they stole her away from the necropolis beneath the ocean.
When she is eleven, she changes her name to Toni, because Masha Lutz died in a graveyard of memories in 1948. On paper, she is Toni Winchester-Song, born on March 25th, 2001 in Lawrence, Kansas. Her birth certificate has no biological mother or father listed, because she has no way of making society accept that she has two mothers and five fathers, one of which is an alien.
When she is twenty-two, Castiel finds God, and introduces Him to her as Grandpa.
Predictably, He spoils her.
Sometimes her family are thieves, sometimes they’re liars. Sometimes they’re such hypocrites that she wants to explode, and sometimes they aren’t there when she needs them. But they are her family, perfect in their imperfection, and she loves them.
Endings are never really the end in her experience. Life goes on, and with it, so does the story.
Just maybe not quite this one.
FIN~
Fandoms: Supernatural/Doctor Who/Bioshock; SUPERWHOSHOCK
Summary: Castiel's gone missing, and finding one wayward angel in all of space and time is a bit like finding a needle in a haystack. Good thing he left a message behind-now there's only the matter of figuring out what this mysterious "Rapture" is. In which the splicers have the phone box, the Doctor has an angel for a BFF, Castiel uses a Little Sister for a temporary vessel, and everything’s really about family in the end.
The interior of the TARDIS is the best thing Dean has seen in weeks. He slides down to the floor, still clutching Cas to his chest, and laughs when long brown hair half out of its ponytail tickles his nose. Castiel looks up at him, relieved and concerned in equal measures, eyes still bright with pain. Dean laughs and laughs, and holds Cas tight, his shoulders shaking.
Sam looks at him like he’s gone crazy, and the Doctor is warily creeping around the controls as the TARDIS groans and thrashes around the vortex.
Dean laughs and presses a kiss to the wall next to his head, because she’s the most lovely thing he’s ever seen, and it’s funny, it really is, because he’s sure as hell not afraid of flying anymore.
Masha Lutz’s hair looks odd in the sunlight-the gray of her skin somber rather than horrifying, the yellow glow of her eyes soft rather than eerie.
There’s nothing to be done with the bloodstained dress, but it’s apparently horrifying enough that River takes one look at the form he is in and pulls Castiel to the side. She bathes him, setting him down in a jacuzzi sized bathtub the TARDIS pulls out of nowhere and scrubs at his ankles and between his toes until all the blood and grime has been washed away. She washes Castiel’s hair, tugging the ribbon out of it and kneading shampoo into Castiel’s scalp until the smell is gone. Afterwards, she takes him to the first wardrobe and doesn’t even listen to Castiel when he protests that really, he’s utterly fine.
When she marches him back into the control room, Dean does a double take and Sam laughs himself hoarse in the hallway. The trousers fit oddly, but Castiel assumes it’s because they’re from the 1920s rather than because there’s an issue with the body he’s in. The shirt is crisp, and clings to Masha’s frame loosely-but it’s the miniature tie around his neck that is probably causing Sam’s laughter. It isn’t quite the suit and trenchcoat that he’d grown accustomed to, but it’s close enough that Castiel feels at ease, with Masha’s feet shoved into tiny loafers and an ill fitting suit wrapped around his skin.
When the Doctor sees him, he smiles softly, and immediately goes back into the wardrobe. They listen to him rummage for a few minutes before he emerges, smiling triumphantly, a pair of tiny braces in his hands.
He fastidiously clips them into place, snapping the elastic over Castiel’s shoulders once they’re secure. He grins some more, and finally Dean interrupts with a snort. “You’re corrupting him with suspenders? Really?”
Castiel looks over to him and grins, because he learned quickly that in this form, it terrifies Dean. Perhaps Dean’s sense of humor is finally rubbing off on him, because he finds it extremely amusing. “Jimmy Novak wore suspenders, Dean.”
As Dean splutters, River cocks her head at him. “Really?” she breathes, dragging the syllables, intrigue bleeding into her tone.
“Not your kind of suspenders,” Sam laughs. “Braces-Jimmy Novak wore braces, not a garter belt.” Sam grins at her, taking a sip of the tea that she presses into his hands.
“Oh English, you wonderful language,” Dean says, rolling his eyes skyward.
The Doctor strokes a hand across Castiel’s cheek to get his attention, still crouched to his level, nearly sitting on the floor. “How’s she doing?” he asks.
Castiel probes inwards and flinches at what he sees. “She is not well. Her body will not hold up much longer, I fear.”
Dean glances away from bickering with River and Sam, looking concerned. “But your body-”
The Doctor rolls his eyes at Castiel and speaks without turning to face Dean. “What exactly are you inside of right now, Dean Winchester?” he asks, tone patient, used to the humans having to take some time to play catch up.
Dean’s eyes go wide and Castiel smiles. “I told you,” he points out sagely. “We have all the time we could possibly want.”
Being back in Jimmy’s skin is truly like coming home.
The first thing he does is kiss Dean.
He’s been waiting long enough.
The second thing he does is eradicate the worm, ridding the girl of the demon blood in her system before she even wakes fully, slumped to the ground in Castiel’s miniature suit. They watch as her skin blushes pink, holding their breaths as the Doctor does his best to telepathically remove the majority of her mental conditioning. The cracks in her mind mend, and as they do so, her will becomes stronger.
When Masha finally opens her eyes, they are blue and curious.
“Who are you?” she asks, head cocked to one side-gaze sharp.
“We have ourselves a mini-Castiel,” River giggles, Sam joining her after a few seconds of scrutinizing the child. Castiel is not sure of how to feel about this, and judging by his face, neither does Dean. The Doctor just looks at her fondly though, bending down to her level the same way he had with Castiel. “That we do,” he whispers, playfully tousling the girls hair.
She giggles.
It isn’t easy, and it sure as hell isn’t perfect. For weeks, Masha won’t step foot outside of the TARDIS, curling up on cots with Castiel to sleep. The mental conditioning is slow to fade from her mind, sloughing away like dead skin as the months pass. Her first outing is to Bobby’s, where Castiel and the Doctor hold her hands as they walk between all the cars. At first, she’s shy around Bobby, hiding behind Castiel’s knees when he gets too close. She acts the same way with Amy and Rory, and it takes some time before she starts to climb into Grandpa Bobby’s lap for storytime, or comfortable enough around Amy to tug on her orange hair.
Raising her isn’t the easiest, especially with a family this big.
When she gets older, Masha will steal the TARDIS a bit too often for comfort and come back weeks later with a years growth of hair spilling out of her ponytail and her nails chipped, grease streaked across her face and glasses slightly askew. When the Doctor asks where she’s been, she’ll shrug and ask him how his visit was with Papa Dean and Daddy Cas. She’ll be a right pain in the ass, but she’ll be clever about it-the Doctor’s smarts and the Winchester ability to get herself into trouble. Luckily enough, she also picked up River’s ability to get herself in and out of trouble faster than one can blink. She’ll wear ill fitting suits, crooked ties, and suspenders for as long as she knows how to run, though she trades out the loafers for a pair of sneakers the day she turns thirteen.
While she’s young she’ll spend weekends with the Winchesters, reluctantly letting Sam feed her salad and take her to get her first pair of glasses-learning how to properly care for a car with Dean, tucked under the Impala with him, and later, helping him polish the knives-and with Castiel? Well, with Castiel she learns languages, fluent in Enochian by ten years and in half a dozen other human languages by the time she’s twelve. He takes her flying, and she can’t see his wings, but she has vague memories of his Grace, burning brightly in that terrible place.
With the Ponds, she does normal little kid things, parks and feeding ducks and helping Auntie Amy tinker with a new perfume. Uncle Rory tells her stories of the Doctor and the adventures that they’d had before she came to them, and she giggles when he tickles her during the scary parts.
It isn’t the perfect fairytale ending, not the way that her childhood is half hazy memories of roses and ivy and angels sleeping on marble floors. Mama River still isn’t home enough and the Doctor still gets them into too much trouble. It’s Winchester luck, he always told her, that knack for getting into trouble. She won’t judge them for it, because they’re family, and as far as she’s concerned, they’re just as much her parents as River and the Doctor are. She’s a Winchester just as much as she is a Pond or a Song, just as she once was a Lutz, before they stole her away from the necropolis beneath the ocean.
When she is eleven, she changes her name to Toni, because Masha Lutz died in a graveyard of memories in 1948. On paper, she is Toni Winchester-Song, born on March 25th, 2001 in Lawrence, Kansas. Her birth certificate has no biological mother or father listed, because she has no way of making society accept that she has two mothers and five fathers, one of which is an alien.
When she is twenty-two, Castiel finds God, and introduces Him to her as Grandpa.
Predictably, He spoils her.
Sometimes her family are thieves, sometimes they’re liars. Sometimes they’re such hypocrites that she wants to explode, and sometimes they aren’t there when she needs them. But they are her family, perfect in their imperfection, and she loves them.
Endings are never really the end in her experience. Life goes on, and with it, so does the story.
Just maybe not quite this one.
FIN~