[DCBB-FIC] Castiel Rising; NC-17; The Beginning
The Beginning
Castiel had lived for a very long time-formed before the notion of ‘time’ had even existed. He’d seen the stars form and given a few of them names. He’d felt solar winds rustle the feathers on his four wings. He’d swam in oceans of magma, flown through the vacuum of space, and dozed as he drifted light-years through it. He watched the first creature heave itself out of Earth’s ocean, and felt pity as it gasped helplessly, and was awed as it dragged itself back into the water.
Castiel had seen everything there was to see in the universe. But nothing had quite touched him like the sight of two tiny, hairy scavengers skittering over the bones of a once-powerful tyrannosaurus rex, now fallen after Father had decided enough was enough and ended their reign.
He bared the teeth of his Alioramus head, snorting, and rested it on the top of the head he’d made to mimic his Father’s. He stared awhile longer, both pairs of eyes locked onto the two little beasts fighting over a beetle that had crawled from the eye socket of the dead creature’s skull. He couldn’t help but be offended on the tyrannosaurus’s behalf, and wondered if sending a gust of wind their way was something he could get away with.
“Careful, brother,” Yahoel said, landing beside Castiel. “Father has plans for one of those Purgatorius.”
Castiel turned dinosaur eyes on his brother and kept his Godface straight ahead, black wings spreading slightly. “Did he happen to mention which one?” Castiel asked, Alioramus eyes twitching between Yahoel’s small silver eyes on his egg-shaped Godface and the even smaller ones in his Dacentrurus face beside it.
Yahoel’s Godface remained impassive, unmoved, but the beady eyes of his Dacentrurus head narrowed. “You’re upset,” he said.
Castiel’s Godface frowned, and he turned his Alioramus face away. “It’s allowed,” he said, and raised his wings defensively. Yahoel laughed, and Castiel grit both sets of teeth.
“Castiel, this is good day!” Yahoel said, reaching out and touching the back of Castiel’s white hand. “Today, God’s plans grow closer to fruition.”
Castiel stared at the tiny, victorious creature gnawing on the shiny beetle and sighed. “Father’s plans are always moving closer,” he said, and looked into the dusky sky as he heard the tell-tale flapping of more brothers approaching, accompanied by a soft tugging on his grace. He closed his eyes when he spotted the familiar violet wings and exhaled when Balthazar landed behind him.
“Oh, what’s wrong, Cassie?” Balthazar chirped, tickling his fingers into Castiel’s upper set of wings. Castiel whirled around, a high-pitched squawk escaping his Alioramus head and a small smile forcing its way onto his Godface. The smile morphed into a frown the moment he spotted Balthazar’s second face-the once-Cryptoclidus was sprouting fur, and the tip of its nose was slowly darkening to match the color of the creatures darting around in the dirt. Balthazar’s Godface broke into a wide smile-so oddly expressive, so utterly Balthazar. “Did Father take away your toys?”
Castiel scowled at him. “They weren’t toys, Balthazar. And they weren’t mine.”
Balthazar smacked him with his lower left wing, still grinning. “Cheer up! Sulking isn’t going to bring them back. Father does as Father wants. We’ve just got to move on,” he said, tapping the dark spot on his second head where a twitchy, wet nose would soon be. He reached out, grasping Castiel wrist. “Come on, Zachariah’s going to try and sprout a third face.”
“What?” Yahoel asked, his beige wings spreading wide. “Raphael gave him an order to stop the last time he tried that.”
Balthazar’s wings quivered as he turned both faces to him. “He’d bothered Raphael so much about it that he finally let Zachariah do it again.”
Yahoel sighed, wings flaring out. “He’s a fool,” he said, and darted into the sky. Balthazar turned expectant vividly bright green eyes on Castiel, tugging him once more.
Castiel smiled, and slowly pulled his hand free. “I’ll be there soon,” he said, and looked back at the skeleton. “I just need some time.”
Balthazar scoffed, and Castiel could hear him spreading his wings again. “Well. It’s your loss,” he said, and flew off with a gust of wind. Castiel looked back with both faces, following the color of Balthazar’s wings into the sky. He turned away once Balthazar had all but disappeared from sight, sighing, and his wings slumped as he looked over the landscape. Another tiny, furry creature scurried from under a rock a few yards away, and Castiel glared at it.
“I preferred the dinosaurs,” he said to nothing in particular, wings flapping in agitation.
“They were grand, weren’t they?”
Castiel flinched, turning both heads around, and stared, wide-eyed, as Lucifer crouched down beside the bone pile. His six pure white wings were slightly open, and he was bright even for Castiel’s eyes. Lucifer looked up at him, golden eyes soft and friendly-he had no second face, none of the archangels did anymore, not after Gabriel started the tradition. He rose to his feet, smiling.
“Castiel, right?” he asked. Castiel nodded, stunned to silence; of all the archangels, Gabriel was the one to remember an angel’s name, and Lucifer the least. Lucifer, though, smiled at Castiel and tilted his head slightly. “You were the one who almost stepped on the primordial fish.”
Castiel closed his eyes, but his Alioramus mouth let loose a low rumbling noise. “I…” he started saying, voice rough. He cleared his throat and opened his eyes, meeting Lucifer’s amused gaze. He felt his wings rise. “I had only been observing,” he grumbled. “Yahoel overreacted.”
Lucifer smiled a little wider and nodded. “He gets that from following Michael around,” he said, and walked forward. He looked over the sandy area, where once had been a forest of trees and fields filled with life. Castiel exhaled, swallowing, and shook his head.
“I don’t understand,” Castiel finally admitted, narrowing his eyes. Lucifer remained silent, and he steeled himself to continue. “They fought and lived for so long. Adapted to this world, made it their home.” He stared, grace pulsing with the injustice of it all. “Is that what’s destined for us?” he asked, turning to Lucifer. “Will Father grow bored of us, too?”
Lucifer let out a soft laugh, wing reaching out and brushing against Castiel’s, white feathers against black. “Father made us to be perfect,” Lucifer said, and Castiel turned to meet his gaze. Lucifer swept his arm over the desert, saying, “These things were made to evolve, change. And evolution is just a toy of God.” He stepped forward, over the bones, and Castiel followed without hesitation. Lucifer looked back, folding his six wings down to see him better. “Do you see this world now?”
Castiel frowned, looking around. “Yes,” he said, narrowing both sets of his eyes. Lucifer tilted his head to the side.
“It’s about evolution,” he said, his thin lips lifting into a smile. “God has to constantly change this world, how it works, how it reacts, to change the creatures on it.” He crouched, and Castiel watched as he touched a wilting plant. “Evolution is, in the end, useless, because the environment will constantly change to outlast the creatures, and the creatures will be forced to try and catch up.” He stood up and turned back to Castiel. “It never ends, because neither of them can reach perfection.” He smirked, gesturing to himself. “Us.”
Castiel frowned, tilting his head. “Why us?”
Lucifer smiled at him. “Because we have purpose besides just existing,” he said. “We are to love Him, worship Him, and do His Will.” He raised an eyebrow at Castiel. “And that is something no creature of evolution can do.”
Castiel’s eyes widened. He was perfect. He had been made by God, for God. It was foolish to think something like the dung-eating creature scuffling in the dirt could ever replace him.
Castiel lifted his gaze to Lucifer and smiled. “Thank you,” he said, shaking out his wings. Lucifer nodded, walking towards him.
“Anything for my brothers,” Lucifer said. Then he grinned, eyes lifting to Castiel’s Alioramus head, and Castiel snorted through its nose at him. He looked back at Castiel’s Godface. “The other angels all have their… ‘second face’ on the same head as the face of our Father,” he said, tilting his own head. “Why do you have two separate heads?”
Castiel frowned. “So I can see everything God has made.”
Lucifer’s smile grew even brighter. “Castiel,” he said, “I like you.”
-----
Walking the world with Lucifer was an entirely new adventure. Exploring the universe alone or with a group of his brothers had been quiet, enjoyable, but not at all stimulating-angels were meant to agree, to work together as one force. Archangels, though, were separate. Individuals. And Castiel felt like he was learning things by traveling with Lucifer. It was… amazing.
Until the primates started to truly come into their own. It was like Lucifer could sense that they were favored. Unlike other creatures, these learned to use tools, sharpen stones, to wonder. They were growing intelligent, and learning to change the world around them, make it adapt to their wants. To make fire. To speak.
Lucifer hated them with a passion only outdone by his love for Father. Castiel believed Lucifer never recovered from the shock of seeing their Father’s face slowly being formed onto an imperfect creature. That these animals, who’d formed themselves from things that had flopped their way out of the ocean and eaten bugs, could be the great ‘plan’ that the angels still whispered to each other about. That they could be as great as angels.
Nothing lasts, though, and everything comes crashing down.
Castiel had been learning the body of his newest vessel, a young man whose great-grandfather had accepted a grace-oath with Castiel, binding his bloodline to Castiel in exchange for their entrance into Paradise. Castiel invoked his oath and the boy had easily and happily given his body over. Castiel had only started flexing his wings (only one set, the other had to be curled inside his vessel for his bloodline could not support the second pair) when he felt Lucifer’s grace approaching.
“Lucifer!” Castiel called, turning around as the archangel stumbled to a stop. Lucifer’s eyes were wide when he looked back, all six wings outstretched. The light of his grace glowed through the eyes of his vessel as he reached out and grabbed hold of Castiel’s arm. Castiel wrapped his vessel’s tiny hands around Lucifer’s larger arm, wings wide, terror gripping him. “Lucifer, what’s wrong?”
Lucifer stared at him, panting, and then tore away, wings lashing out. “These… beasts are sinful and wretched,” he spat, glaring back at Castiel. “They are violent, lustful, uncontrolled, dirty, and small.”
“Lucifer?” Castiel stepped closer, wary. Lucifer buried his face in his hands, wings arching up as he nearly bent over in his grief.
“Father has given us archangels revelation,” he whispered, so softly that Castiel would not have heard him were he human. “He has told us to love the humans, Castiel.” He lifted his head, eyes narrow. “To love them more that we love Him.”
“No,” Castiel said, immediately. He felt himself instinctually try to follow God’s Word, to obey and do as He commanded as he had for all of existence. For the first time, though, Castiel’s grace simply would not feel how God had wanted it to. It was wrong.
Lucifer watched him, eyes narrowing. “Did you hear me?” he asked, stepping forward. Castiel stared back at him, smiling. Lucifer gasped and darted forward with a snap of his great white wings, clutching Castiel’s vessel’s shoulders with bone-breaking force. The grace behind his eyes flared golden, and Castiel could see the joy through his heartbreak. “It’s God’s Will for you to love humans more than him, Castiel.”
Castiel smiled wider and brushed his two black wings against Lucifer’s middle pair. “I understand,” he said, “but I cannot.”
Lucifer shuddered and wrapped himself around Castiel, wings curling close. Castiel leaned against him, resting his head in the curve of Lucifer’s neck. “Castiel,” Lucifer whispered, stroking the hair on his vessel. “I thought… How can you resist? How can you disobey?”
“It’s not right,” Castiel said simply.
“Of course,” Lucifer said, laughter in his voice. He pulled back, catching Castiel’s gaze. His face was scrunched, and Castiel frowned at him.
“Is there more?” he asked. Lucifer looked away, wings curling closer to himself. “What else?”
“I-” Lucifer’s mouth snapped shut, and he slid away from Castiel. “I argued. With Father.”
Castiel’s wings flared. “Lucifer!” he gasped, and Lucifer closed his eyes.
“I told Him that there was nothing that could make me love humans more than Him,” he said, slowly. “That it was wrong to force such a perversion on the angels.” He shook his head. “I’ve been exiled.”
Castiel couldn’t help the noise that forced itself out of him, pained and despairing. He stepped forward, trying to catch Lucifer’s gaze. “What will you do?”
Lucifer swallowed, eyes wide, and he looked to the sky. “There’s only one thing I can do.” He inhaled, wings quivering as he spread them wide. “I have to make Him see.” He paused, looking over at Castiel. He extended his hand. “Will you,” he paused, staring. “Will you come with me? Follow me?”
Castiel didn’t hesitate. “Of course,” he said, and took Lucifer’s hand.
-----
“He can’t see it,” Lucifer said as they hovered over the town. Lucifer’s wide eyes scanned the people, the houses, heaving breaths for lungs that didn’t need the air. “He can’t see beyond His own face, and that He forged them. He can’t see how soiled they are.”
Castiel soared beside him, watching him. “Lucifer, what are you looking for?”
Lucifer’s eyes stilled, wings moving just enough to keep him in the air. He turned to Castiel, mouth twisting into a small smile. “An example,” he said softly, and spun around and dropped like a stone.
Castiel followed after, but never reached the ground before Lucifer met him halfway, carrying a limp woman in his arms. He held her out to Castiel, like a human child showing off a doll. Castiel moved back a few inches, staring at her. “Who is she?”
“She’s perfect,” was all Lucifer said, and took off like a dart through the sky. Castiel followed, dread stirring in his grace.
He followed Lucifer to a small hut on the outskirts of town, and landed within it, beside him. Castiel frowned once he could truly see the insides, taking in the small clay statue of a human body with a goat head and the incense bowl in front of it. He flinched back, wings fluttering, and turned to Lucifer. “This,” Castiel began, softly, fear and anger tickling the nerves on his vessel’s arms, “is the temple of a false god.”
Lucifer smiled, pleased with himself. “It is,” he said, and lifted the woman slightly, “and it’s hers.” He walked forward, looking down at the clay statue and the table set out for offerings. “It’s especially funny: this particular false god doesn’t exist,” he said, and flicked a hand out. The statue, the incense, the bowl-everything atop the table flew off, smashing against the side of the wall. Lucifer then set the woman in their place. “Make an example of a woman and desecrate the temple of her false idol all at once.” He turned to Castiel, smiling. “Father will be pleased when He finally sees.”
Castiel stayed in the corner of the small hut, curling his wings closer to his back. “What are you going to do? What are you planning?”
Lucifer looked down at the woman, brushing her dark hair from her face. “Do you know what a soul is, Castiel?”
Castiel frowned, looking down at the woman, and nodded. “I do.”
“It’s something God had to actually give humans,” Lucifer said. “You can’t evolve a soul.” He stared hard at the woman, lifting his hand and flexing his fingers. “Without it, there’s nothing redeemable.”
Castiel watched him, mouth thinning. “Can you remove a soul?”
Lucifer glanced back at him, and then huffed. “Of course you can,” he said. He set his hand on the woman’s chest and inhaled. “Just like this.”
Lucifer pushed his hand against her body, and the woman jerked, her eyes snapping open and a scream tearing from her lips. Lucifer merely pushed her down with his free hand, and Castiel watched as his grace sliced into the human, moving her flesh without tearing, manipulating her body to reach for the glow of a human’s core.
“Do you know why?” Lucifer snarled to the woman, staring at her face as he pushed his arm deeper inside. The woman’s eyes were sightless from pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. Lucifer sneered. “You’ve sinned, human,” he said. “You’ve sinned and now shall be given your punishment.”
The woman thrashed against him, striking at his arms and kicking her legs. Blood oozed from her mouth, and she coughed and sputtered and choked. Castiel watched her weep as Lucifer finally touched her soul, sending flares of yellow-gold light up his arm. Lucifer smirked, wrapping his fist around it and squeezing.
“You don’t want to worship your God and Father?” he murmured, and Castiel could barely hear him above the woman’s shrieks. Lucifer nodded. “Then you are not worthy of His love, His mercy, His face,” he hissed. “But mostly,” Lucifer tugged on her soul, “you are not worthy of this.”
With a pull, Lucifer tore the soul from the woman’s body, flaring light and noise and pure power that Castiel could feel his grace drinking in, gaining power, growing brighter. He gasped, feeling his vessel’s soul flutter within him at the sensation, and he soothed it. He blinked, trying to regain his senses, and saw Lucifer holding an orb of pure energy in his hand. He looked at Castiel and exhaled.
“We must go,” he said, and darted from the room with a flap of his wings. Castiel lingered, staring at the woman’s body. She breathed, blinking, and then sat up. She turned her head, looking straight at Castiel, and smiled. It was colder than any smile Castiel had seen Raphael give the angels, eyes blanker than the blind humans he would sometimes pass in his travels. The woman pushed herself to her feet, the smile falling from her lips, and she walked by him and through the door.
Castiel had never seen something so empty. It was wrong. Everything was wrong. The universe had gone wrong. He took off after Lucifer, shaken, afraid, torn. Was there anything right anymore?
He followed Lucifer’s grace to an abandoned well, far from the town. Castiel touched down just inside the well and saw Lucifer immediately, the soul washing him in a strange blue light inside the pitch-black darkness. Lucifer looked up, fingers hovering over the orb of light, and blinked.
“Castiel,” he said, stunned. “You came.”
Castiel stared at him, looking from the orb to Lucifer’s face. “I don’t know what’s right anymore, Lucifer,” he said. “Maybe nothing is.”
Lucifer nodded, mouth pinched. “How true,” he said, staring at his hands. “Sometimes you must choose to the best thing. Not the right thing.”
“I know that what God wants of my brothers, of myself,” Castiel began, stepping forward. “It’s wrong. It’s not fair.” He stared at Lucifer’s hands, steeling himself. “I want to be selfish.”
Lucifer lifted his eyes, and kept Castiel’s gaze. “Then it’s not about right and wrong,” he said. He presses a finger to the soul, and it flashes green. “It’s about proving we are better than them,” he said breathlessly. “It’s about survival.”
Castiel watched as Lucifer peeled the layers of the human soul back, like a flower blossoming. Watched him pull pieces from it and toss them aside. Watched Lucifer dig out its very humanity. He fed off the energy the soul would flare out whenever it would change colors and collapse tighter in on itself.
“Her name is Lilith,” Lucifer said after the soul had collapsed to the size of a pebble and turned into a pale violet color. Castiel stared at it, frowning.
“Is it really human anymore?” he asked. Lucifer picked the soul up between two fingers and stared at it.
“Not really,” he admitted, smirking a little. Castiel’s furrowed his vessel’s brow when Lucifer looked at him, and Lucifer just shook his head. “Don’t you see?” he said, walking to Castiel, and held out the soul. Castiel stepped back and Lucifer snorted, rolling it back into his palm. “Father wants evolution. Adaptation. Change.” He closed his hand around the soul. “Well, let’s show Him the future for His children.”
And he squeezed.
The pulse that exploded from Lucifer’s hand knocked Castiel into the wall, and, instead of empowering Castiel, it burned. The energy was different, sinister, stinging his grace, and he clamped his eyes shut and gasped, twitching, wings snapping wide open as he struggled to beat it away from him. When he reopened his eyes, Lucifer was standing in the middle of the well, staring at the black, dusty cloud that lingered there. His hand was wide open, and the cloud slipped around his fingers, brushing at the clothes Lucifer’s vessel was wearing.
The black cloud of dust, Castiel realized, was the soul. He could feel its sentience, its existence, in his grace, but everything was wrong with it. Like walking sin, it was the opposite of standing in Heaven, of hearing his brothers sing.
“Lucifer,” Castiel whispered, shaking his head. Lucifer smiled wider.
“This is the next stage,” Lucifer murmured. “This is what humanity will come to.”
Castiel stared, but was jolted when he heard a hissing noise, like crackling fire, but deeper. The cloud shifted, drawing closer, and a form solidified in the smoke. Castiel went still, recognizing it as the face of the soul’s body, but there was something terribly wrong with it. She looked like she’d been rotting-her skin melting off her face, hanging from her exposed jawbone. Her nose was missing, and the hair on one side of her head was all gone, along with most of the skin. Her eyes, though, were still there. Except, instead of the shocked-wide brown eyes, in their place were pure white balls. She stared at Lucifer, who had drawn away from her.
“Father?” was what crackled from her mouth. Lucifer’s grace flared bright gold and he lashed forward with his wings, making the creature cower back.
“Don’t call me that,” Lucifer snarled. “Never say my name.”
The creature crackled, drawing in on itself, its rotting face shattering into more dust. Lucifer drew himself taller, stepping forward, and the creature whipped into the light, to the entrance of the well. He gestured out, narrowing his eyes, and raised his chin. “Go do as your instincts tell you,” he ordered, and the creature went utterly still.
“Yes,” she hissed, and then took off, racing across the clear sky as a single black cloud.
Castiel stared after it, eyes wide. “What have we done?” he whispered.
Lucifer was quiet for a long while, watching the creature disappear into the distance. “What was needed,” Lucifer said, softly. Castiel frowned, turning to look at him. Lucifer shook his head, a bitter smile crossing his face. “Why do I feel like this is what I was supposed to do? That this was expected of me?”
Castiel shook his head. “Father wouldn’t do that, Lucifer.”
“Wouldn’t he?” Lucifer shot back, raising an eyebrow. “He commanded that all angels were to love these filthy mud monkeys.” He scoffed. “Maybe he manipulated me into doing this.”
“No, brother.”
Castiel cowered back, recognizing that voice instantly. Lucifer whirled around, white wings snapping wide. “Michael,” he growled, eyes narrow.
Michael stepped forward from the shadows, all six of his bronze wings folded against his white skin. His red eyes were narrow, and he never acknowledged Castiel in his march forward. “Lucifer,” he started, firm, merciless, “it was your own pride that led you to this.”
Lucifer tore himself out of his vessel’s body, and the man dropped lifelessly to the floor. “Pride?!” he snarled, six white wings flaring open. His gold eyes glow brighter with rage. “This isn’t pride! It’s common sense!” The walls of the well rattled as Lucifer beat his wings, the gust wiping sand across Castiel’s face. “Did you see what the thing became?”
Michael tilted his head to the side. “I saw the thing that created it,” he said, and Lucifer gasped. Michael stepped forward. “Father knows your sin, Lucifer, and He has passed judgment.”
Lucifer’s wings quivered. His face went blank. “Yes?”
Michael stared back at him. “Solitary imprisonment.”
With choked-off noise, Lucifer’s eyes widened. “Brother,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Brother, no.”
“God’s Word is law,” Michael said, but Castiel could see the way his wings quivered, how his voice wavered.
Lucifer couldn’t. “I see,” Lucifer said, wings spreading wide. His faced hardened. “But I refused His orders once already, Michael.” He smiled, sad, quiet. “I will do so again.”
“Lucifer!” Michael called out just as Lucifer soared into the air, and became nothing more than a white blur against the blue skies. Michael stood still, bronze wings half-unfolded, before turning his head to look at Castiel. “You. Come here.”
Castiel inhaled, steadying himself, and stepped forward. “Michael,” he said, voice steadier than he’d expected. He slid free from is vessel, and felt the boy fall to the ground, sleeping. He spread all four of his wings, stretched the neck of his second head, blinked his Alioramus eyes.
Michael stared at him for a moment. “You are Castiel,” he said-not a question. Castiel merely nodded and Michael focused his gaze on the walls of the well. “What you and Lucifer did here…” He stilled, raising his head to the sky. “I don’t know what God will do with you.”
Castiel curled his wings closer to himself, fear gripping his grace, but he nodded. “I understand.”
Michael looked back at him, and Castiel could see the pain in his expression. Not for Castiel, never for an angel, but for Lucifer. Castiel wondered if he looked the same. “Why?” Michael asked. “What was it all for?”
Castiel narrowed his Alioramus eyes, looking away, but kept his Godface straight on. “For us,” he said. “For our brothers.” He frowned, looking down. “It wasn’t right,” he murmured. “Nothing was right.”
-----
Castiel had helped start a war in Heaven. He could feel when his brothers and sister died in combat, even detained as he was in Heaven's prison, wings bound with holy chains to the walls. That was almost the extent of what he knew, but he'd gained the worst information from Balthazar's too-brief and increasingly rare visits: Michael and Raphael's forces outnumbered Lucifer's one hundred to one, Gabriel had fled Heaven to avoid the bloodshed, and God, their Father, had left them to their battle.
Castiel had ruined Paradise, and he wasn't allowed to fight for it. Given the chance, Castiel would have led the charge beside Lucifer. Instead, he waited for the songs of his brothers and sister to signal Lucifer's inevitable defeat. Even an archangel could not go against God and expect to win. What had Castiel expected to come of this?
Pride, Michael’s voice would whisper in the back of Castiel’s mind. Pride that he, a mere angel, could stand before his Father and convince him to change his mind.
When the songs did come, echoing in the chamber and in his grace, Castiel had wept. Not only for Lucifer, nor the brothers he’d lost in the fight, nor what was to become of himself, but for his brothers who were still alive. He wept because everything had changed. He wept because the world wasn’t fair.
Yahoel was the angel they sent to bring him out of the prison. Neither of them spoke as the chains were undone and the shackles were unlocked. Castiel found he didn’t mind-he was in no mood for a scolding.
He wasn’t in the mood for much of anything.
Yahoel led him through Heaven, to the garden where all the angels of Heaven stood waiting. A platform had been materialized beneath the greatest tree in the garden, and standing on it were Michael and Raphael, like executioners eager to see Castiel judged, to hear him beg for mercy. Castiel looked forward to disappointing them.
Castiel walked up the platform himself, stretching his wings. Both of his heads scanned over the crowd, and he couldn’t help the relieved exhale when he spotted Balthazar’s violet wings in the spectrum of his siblings. He stood straighter, turning to Michael and staring.
“What is to become of me?” Castiel asked. He was surprised by how much colder Michael looked. How dead he seemed.
“That depends,” Michael said, glancing into the vivid blue sky. “Our merciful Father,” he started, and Castiel could hear an edge of anger under his voice, “has given you the chance to repent your actions against Him, to decry Lucifer’s actions against our Father’s children, and to swear your undying loyalty and obedience to God’s Word forever.”
Castiel frowned, staring into the crowd of his brothers. “What happened to those who allied with Lucifer?” he asked, turning to Michael and Raphael again.
Raphael’s violet eyes narrowed at him, his silver wings flaring out. “Several repented and stand before you. Azazel,” he paused, mouth thinning. “He tore his own grace out, and cursed himself and his bloodline to damnation. However,” Raphael drawled, “most of them were executed.”
Castiel’s wings flinched. “What?” he gasped, shaking his heads. “Why?”
“Castiel,” Michael started, nearly growling at him, and Castiel looked to him again. Michael’s head tilted slightly. “Do you understand what you helped unleash on the world?” Castiel stared blankly at him, and Michael shook his head. “Pure sin in sentient form. In the first week, it converted fourteen souls. Made them like it is.”
Castiel closed his eyes. “I hadn’t known.”
“We lost three brothers fighting them,” Michael continued. “They are… powerful. And nearly unstoppable. We were forced to banish these demons into Hell.”
Castiel’s eyes snapped open. “Hell was made to hold and release human souls who’d sinned,” he said. “It will never hold something as powerful as you say these demons are.”
Raphael nodded. “God remade Hell,” he said. “It’s easy to enter, but impossible to escape.”
“Nothing is impossible,” Michael instantly replied, and Raphael looked away.
Castiel’s eyes widened. “Lucifer is there.”
Michael lifted his head, eyes narrowing. “There is nothing you can do to free him, Castiel,” he said firmly.
“I know,” Castiel said back. He was just an angel, after all. An angel who could think for himself, but just an angel nonetheless.
But Lucifer was his brother, and he was alone.
“Brothers,” Castiel called, turning to his fellow angels, “what Lucifer did was wrong. If you’ve seen it, you’d know that without having to hear me say it.” He paused, drawing his courage, and glared. “But I cannot pledge myself to God’s Will.”
The crowd went still, and Michael and Raphael seemed stunned. Castiel could see flashes of Balthazar’s violet wings in the group, though, and could hear Balthazar’s cry of, “Cassie! What are you doing?!”
Castiel spread his wings. “I’m sorry,” he said, and the ground beneath his feet rumbled, and the sky darkened overhead. He gritted his teeth. “I do not hate humanity, but I do not love them. Not more than God, and not more than Lucifer.” He smiled, catching Balthazar’s eyes. “I can’t abandon him.”
With the image of Balthazar’s wide-eyed face in his mind, Castiel fell backward, through the shifting ground of Heaven and towards Earth, and his flapped his wings harder, falling faster. He could feel the separation between Earth and Hell approaching, could almost feel Lucifer’s grace again. He pulled his wings in close to himself and covered his faces with his arms as he crashed into the Earth, and through the veil.
Hell has no sky, was the first thing Castiel thought as he regained his bearings. Hell has no up, no down. Castiel spun around, hovering in the thick, humid air, and looked over the landscape. Castiel was over an enormous rocky cavern full of sizzling water, or possibly acid. He could see several figures inside it, screaming and writhing and begging for help. Castiel merely looked up, spotting the only entrance or exit to the pit-a round tunnel leading straight up. With several quick flaps of his wings, Castiel shot to the tunnel and to freedom.
Except for the sudden gust of wind that nearly blasted him into the lake below.
Castiel caught himself several lengths away from the liquid, but close enough for him to easily see the boiling flesh on the faces of the souls trapped within it. He shuddered, turning away, and tried again to fly to the tunnel. He was met with the same amount of success.
It was then that Castiel learned the only rule of Hell: adaptation is key. There may have been no sky, no ground, no sense of direction, but there was fire, and ice, and wind. It took Castiel years to get free of the boiling lake room, for him to learn how large he could grow and still fit in the tunnels, for his hands to strengthen and sharpen into claws that could grip the stone walls and pull himself free. It took far less time for Castiel to rid himself of his feathers-they were torn from his wings constantly by the sudden gusts of wind-and only a little longer for his skin to harden into black scales for protection from the heat and stone.
No matter the change, though, no matter what Castiel abandoned from his old self and took onto his new self, he never forgot why he did it. Lucifer would have called the changes ‘imperfections’. Castiel called them necessities.
Even with these necessary alterations to his form, it still took Castiel four centuries to find his way through the mazes of Hell, fighting creatures he’d never seen before, healing from Hell’s multiple ways of inflicting torture on its occupants. Four hundred years of crushing loneliness, hatred, anger, regret, and love. Four hundred years in Hell.
But nothing could compare to the feeling when he saw Lucifer’s cage, hovering in a pit of fire and wind. Castiel powered through the gusts on pure joy, ignoring how his muscles screamed in pain. He crashed into the glowing golden bars, winding his tail through them, and curled himself over the surprisingly small prison.
He rested his Alioramus-like head on the cage, pressing his Godface-hidden beneath his chin, along the underside of his snake-like neck-closer and opening his eyes. He could see Lucifer within, staring at him with wide, shocked eyes. Eyes still golden, wings still white as mountaintops-Castiel let out a soft sob.
“Lucifer,” he rasped, voice ruined from so long in disuse.
Lucifer’s wings snapped wide, though, and he shot upwards. His small hands touched Castiel’s Godface, and they were so cold, painful on his flesh. Castiel bore it, though, bore it gladly, and wished he could touch his brother back-he could feel him quivering. “Castiel?” Lucifer whispered, and he nodded. Lucifer let loose a broken noise, and rested his head against Castiel’s cheek, just a cold as his hands. “You came.”
“I couldn’t leave you here alone,” Castiel said. The winds whipped at him harder, and nearly pulled him loose. “Lucifer,” he whimpered.
Lucifer stared at him, eyes wide. “Look what you’ve done to yourself.”
“I had to,” Castiel said, gripping the bars tighter as the wind pulled harder. He grunted, and Lucifer shook his head.
“You won’t be able to hold on,” Lucifer said, staring, hands still touching Castiel’s face.
Castiel narrowed his eyes at him. “I’ll always come back,” he said. “I swear it.”
Lucifer dug his fingers into the soft skin of Castiel’s face. “Don’t go yet, please.”
“Brother,” Castiel gasped as the wind yanked him free, and sent him spiraling across the fiery plains.
It didn’t stop there, though, and kept pushing him through tunnel after tunnel, moving Castiel so quickly that he barely caught flashes of rooms he passed. Finally, it let him free and sent him tumbling. The floor beneath him was sharp, stinging, stabbing him when he fell on it, and Castiel curled in to protect his faces until he finally stilled, but the pain didn’t stop when he did. Castiel opened his eyes, slowly, and let out a small whimper.
Castiel was covered in short spikes, lining his arms, piercing his abdomen, lancing straight through his feet, each as long as a human’s sword. Every nerve Castiel had felt aflame, and as he tried pulling some out, the spikes caught in his hands would slide deeper through, or stab into the other parts of his flesh. And every surface in the room was covered in those spikes-every movement sent more into his skin. Worse yet were his wings-the white membranes torn, bleeding-they would never carry him out of there.
Every room was a puzzle of pain, usually with one single entrance or exit. And with only one way out, across the pit of spikes and up another spiked wall, Castiel had no option but to pull the spikes from his wings and sit in the pit until his wounds on them healed. It was about time, Castiel would later think as he rested above the spike cavern. Hell knew that what Castiel wanted was to get to Lucifer as quickly as possible. So it would slow him down anyway it could.
But it wouldn’t stop him. It couldn’t. Castiel had made a promise to his brother. He had sworn it.
Lucifer was all he had left.
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