True Places
>>True Places
TITLE: True Places
AUTHOR:ultraviolet9a
SPOILER: none. It’s set vaguely after the end of SPN season 4.
GENRE: Gen. Crossover with Angel the series.
CHARACTERS: Angel, Castiel
SUMMARY: The world doesn’t end the way they expected.
RATING: PG-13
FEEDBACK: Dude…duh.
DISCLAIMER: Don’t own. Dammit. The profit I’m making is solely in my head.
BETA: by stratospherically sparkly pdragon76
Wandering re-establishes the original harmony
which once existed between man and the universe.
~Anatole France
The world doesn’t end the way they expected. It’s more blurry for one thing. And there’s a lot of waste land where they are standing. A lot of emptiness, like a prior state of innocence. The wasteland reminds Angel of Hell. The emptiness reminds Castiel of Heaven.
“Your name is Angel,” Castiel says, tilting his head towards him.
“Yes.”
“You are a vampire.”
“Yes. You?”
“I am an angel of the Lord. But you may call me Castiel.”
They stand like that for a while, watching the empty wasteland unfold around them. The world shimmers with unsteady borders, and they watch, hands hidden in the pockets of their long coats.
“You think we are the sole survivors?” Angel asks after a while.
“No,” Castiel says. “God wouldn’t let that happen.”
“God is a piece of shit,” Angel replies. “I wouldn’t rely on His mercy, nor His mysterious ways.”
Castiel winces. Angel looks around him, kicks some dirt, then picks up his bloodied sword.
“You’re bleeding,” Castiel says, looking at the deep gash on Angel’s face.
“I’m used to it.”
He starts walking then, the slow tired steps of a lost battle. The sky is flaming red in the distance. After a few steps, he turns his head back to Castiel.
“You coming, Cas?”
Castiel starts walking.
.:::.
Sunlight doesn’t hurt him, which should be odd. But then again, this is no normal sunlight. It is not stark, nor fuzzy. It is…faded. Drained. Different. Everything seems different.
“Maybe dimensions have bled into each other,” Angel says. “Maybe the rules have changed.”
Castiel says “Yes.”
He doesn’t talk much. He seems too focused. And for an angel, he doesn’t seem to have many superpowers going on, Angel thinks. But then again, neither does he.
They walk on old, faded roads. There is a forest on one side, but the trees seem to be made of charcoal. When Angel touches a branch, the whole tree crumbles and falls and Angel takes a step back, soul in his throat. Everything I touch turns to ashes.
“You didn’t touch this”, Castiel says.
Angel frowns.
“You heard me?”
“Yes. But I can no longer….” Castiel bends at his knees, sits on his haunches, elbows on his thighs. His face is turned to the ground, hair sticking out as unruly as the charcoal trees.
“You can no longer what?”
“I can no longer hear my brothers. Any of them. Him.”
“You mean God?”
“No.” And then Castiel’s face is staring at Angel and his eyes are fierce. “Why did you call God a piece of excrement?”
“He made me kill my son. He allowed my friends to die. You know what that’s like, feeling the knife slicing through your son’s flesh like a knife through butter?”
“God killed his own son. In a lot of religions, anyway,” Castiel adds.
“You don’t sound certain.”
“I’ve been having…doubts. Maybe these doubts…” Castiel stands up, gestures around him. Angel lays a hand on his shoulder.
“No, Cas,” he says. “You didn’t touch this either.”
They keep moving.
.:::.
Time has bled here. The constellations above them are strange, grotesque; the world around them an indelicate patchwork of dryness and crumbled buildings. They find shelter in one of them.
“So this Dean guy, you raised him from Hell? Well, shit.” Angel says. “Mine was less personal. I just woke up naked on a floor after 500 years.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Castiel replies, “you were out of my jurisdiction.”
Angel flicks a piece of rubble from his thigh.
“I never thought the Apocalypse would be so quiet. Makes me almost miss Spike.”
“Spike?”
“Spike is… Spike is to me what Dean is to you. Sort of,” Angel says after a while. “Oh, there was hate and blood and fists and fangs and fu…”
“Fornication?” Castiel asks. He sounds almost hopeful.
“Yeah. Well. We’re vampires. Anything goes.”
“Angels as well,” Castiel says. “Once we decide to shed our grace.”
He lifts his gaze to the sky.
“I wish I could hear my brothers.” Then his eyes focus on his companion. “Do you hear your demon?”
“Yes. I keep him in a cage in my mind. Sometimes the burden is so heavy it makes me gasp.”
“But do you hear him now?”
Angel shakes his head. “Not since the Apocalypse. Things… things seem different.”
Castiel nods.
“I kept my grace flowing through me,” he says. “But it isn’t any lighter, Angel. Just because we are angels, the grace isn’t any lighter.”
They wait for daylight. And neither of them says how they can hear blood running through them now. How they can hear a heartbeat.
.:::.
They cannot keep count of time. Nor geography. The rules have changed. The world lacks consistency, but there is no hunger, nor thirst, just weariness. A barren, empty world devoid of everything but them. And it’s funny, funny really how being human bled into them. Now. When they no longer asked for it.
“Maybe this is limbo,” Angel says.
“Maybe this is Hell. My Hell,” Castiel replies. “What if God is dead?”
“Then he had better luck than he deserves.”
“You never believed in him, did you, Angel?”
“Oh, I believed. But no more. No more. I’ve seen what faith does to people.”
“And now I have seen, too.” There are tears in Castiel’s eyes. He drops on his knees, arches his neck back, opens his arms like an offering. “Oh Lord, why have you forsaken me?”
He weeps. After a while Angel takes him by the hand and pulls him up, pulls him to walk towards a lightning-riddled horizon.
This is a world where angels fear to tread. Where demons fear to tread. But they are no longer either.
“Where are we going?” Castiel says, stopping on his tracks. “What is the point?”
Angel turns to him. “If this is Hell, there must be a way out. If this isn’t Hell, there must be a place to go to. There must be someone left but us. And we’re going to find them. And if not, well, we’re human. Food or no food, eventually we’ll die.”
Castiel cocks his head to the side, scrunches his eyes.
“You have faith, Angel.” He sounds surprised. Angel shakes his head.
“This is not faith. This is hope. We don’t need no god for that. Come on, Cas.”
Castiel starts walking.
-The End.
It is not down in any map; true places never are.
~Herman Melville
It is not because angels are holier than men or devils that makes them angels, but because they do not expect holiness from one another, but from God alone. ~William Blake
TITLE: True Places
AUTHOR:ultraviolet9a
SPOILER: none. It’s set vaguely after the end of SPN season 4.
GENRE: Gen. Crossover with Angel the series.
CHARACTERS: Angel, Castiel
SUMMARY: The world doesn’t end the way they expected.
RATING: PG-13
FEEDBACK: Dude…duh.
DISCLAIMER: Don’t own. Dammit. The profit I’m making is solely in my head.
BETA: by stratospherically sparkly pdragon76
Wandering re-establishes the original harmony
which once existed between man and the universe.
~Anatole France
The world doesn’t end the way they expected. It’s more blurry for one thing. And there’s a lot of waste land where they are standing. A lot of emptiness, like a prior state of innocence. The wasteland reminds Angel of Hell. The emptiness reminds Castiel of Heaven.
“Your name is Angel,” Castiel says, tilting his head towards him.
“Yes.”
“You are a vampire.”
“Yes. You?”
“I am an angel of the Lord. But you may call me Castiel.”
They stand like that for a while, watching the empty wasteland unfold around them. The world shimmers with unsteady borders, and they watch, hands hidden in the pockets of their long coats.
“You think we are the sole survivors?” Angel asks after a while.
“No,” Castiel says. “God wouldn’t let that happen.”
“God is a piece of shit,” Angel replies. “I wouldn’t rely on His mercy, nor His mysterious ways.”
Castiel winces. Angel looks around him, kicks some dirt, then picks up his bloodied sword.
“You’re bleeding,” Castiel says, looking at the deep gash on Angel’s face.
“I’m used to it.”
He starts walking then, the slow tired steps of a lost battle. The sky is flaming red in the distance. After a few steps, he turns his head back to Castiel.
“You coming, Cas?”
Castiel starts walking.
.:::.
Sunlight doesn’t hurt him, which should be odd. But then again, this is no normal sunlight. It is not stark, nor fuzzy. It is…faded. Drained. Different. Everything seems different.
“Maybe dimensions have bled into each other,” Angel says. “Maybe the rules have changed.”
Castiel says “Yes.”
He doesn’t talk much. He seems too focused. And for an angel, he doesn’t seem to have many superpowers going on, Angel thinks. But then again, neither does he.
They walk on old, faded roads. There is a forest on one side, but the trees seem to be made of charcoal. When Angel touches a branch, the whole tree crumbles and falls and Angel takes a step back, soul in his throat. Everything I touch turns to ashes.
“You didn’t touch this”, Castiel says.
Angel frowns.
“You heard me?”
“Yes. But I can no longer….” Castiel bends at his knees, sits on his haunches, elbows on his thighs. His face is turned to the ground, hair sticking out as unruly as the charcoal trees.
“You can no longer what?”
“I can no longer hear my brothers. Any of them. Him.”
“You mean God?”
“No.” And then Castiel’s face is staring at Angel and his eyes are fierce. “Why did you call God a piece of excrement?”
“He made me kill my son. He allowed my friends to die. You know what that’s like, feeling the knife slicing through your son’s flesh like a knife through butter?”
“God killed his own son. In a lot of religions, anyway,” Castiel adds.
“You don’t sound certain.”
“I’ve been having…doubts. Maybe these doubts…” Castiel stands up, gestures around him. Angel lays a hand on his shoulder.
“No, Cas,” he says. “You didn’t touch this either.”
They keep moving.
.:::.
Time has bled here. The constellations above them are strange, grotesque; the world around them an indelicate patchwork of dryness and crumbled buildings. They find shelter in one of them.
“So this Dean guy, you raised him from Hell? Well, shit.” Angel says. “Mine was less personal. I just woke up naked on a floor after 500 years.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Castiel replies, “you were out of my jurisdiction.”
Angel flicks a piece of rubble from his thigh.
“I never thought the Apocalypse would be so quiet. Makes me almost miss Spike.”
“Spike?”
“Spike is… Spike is to me what Dean is to you. Sort of,” Angel says after a while. “Oh, there was hate and blood and fists and fangs and fu…”
“Fornication?” Castiel asks. He sounds almost hopeful.
“Yeah. Well. We’re vampires. Anything goes.”
“Angels as well,” Castiel says. “Once we decide to shed our grace.”
He lifts his gaze to the sky.
“I wish I could hear my brothers.” Then his eyes focus on his companion. “Do you hear your demon?”
“Yes. I keep him in a cage in my mind. Sometimes the burden is so heavy it makes me gasp.”
“But do you hear him now?”
Angel shakes his head. “Not since the Apocalypse. Things… things seem different.”
Castiel nods.
“I kept my grace flowing through me,” he says. “But it isn’t any lighter, Angel. Just because we are angels, the grace isn’t any lighter.”
They wait for daylight. And neither of them says how they can hear blood running through them now. How they can hear a heartbeat.
.:::.
They cannot keep count of time. Nor geography. The rules have changed. The world lacks consistency, but there is no hunger, nor thirst, just weariness. A barren, empty world devoid of everything but them. And it’s funny, funny really how being human bled into them. Now. When they no longer asked for it.
“Maybe this is limbo,” Angel says.
“Maybe this is Hell. My Hell,” Castiel replies. “What if God is dead?”
“Then he had better luck than he deserves.”
“You never believed in him, did you, Angel?”
“Oh, I believed. But no more. No more. I’ve seen what faith does to people.”
“And now I have seen, too.” There are tears in Castiel’s eyes. He drops on his knees, arches his neck back, opens his arms like an offering. “Oh Lord, why have you forsaken me?”
He weeps. After a while Angel takes him by the hand and pulls him up, pulls him to walk towards a lightning-riddled horizon.
This is a world where angels fear to tread. Where demons fear to tread. But they are no longer either.
“Where are we going?” Castiel says, stopping on his tracks. “What is the point?”
Angel turns to him. “If this is Hell, there must be a way out. If this isn’t Hell, there must be a place to go to. There must be someone left but us. And we’re going to find them. And if not, well, we’re human. Food or no food, eventually we’ll die.”
Castiel cocks his head to the side, scrunches his eyes.
“You have faith, Angel.” He sounds surprised. Angel shakes his head.
“This is not faith. This is hope. We don’t need no god for that. Come on, Cas.”
Castiel starts walking.
-The End.
It is not down in any map; true places never are.
~Herman Melville
It is not because angels are holier than men or devils that makes them angels, but because they do not expect holiness from one another, but from God alone. ~William Blake