In These Waters, Part VIII
As it turned out, the castle Somerled had mentioned appeared to be…well…an ordinary castle surrounded by a stone wall. It sat on a cliff, surrounded by rocks and the ocean. It was incredibly large, but it looked abandoned.
“This is the place?” Dean asked skeptically.
“It is,” Somerled replied. “We keep it enchanted so that it appears empty. That way no mortals are likely to happen upon it. This area is particularly superstitious. They believe the old place to be haunted.” For a moment, Somerled’s grin grew dark. “They believe a great evil resides in these walls.”
After Somerled had secured his horses in the nearby forest, he led Dean to a gate in the wall. Once he was through to the castle’s courtyard, Dean could hardly believe his eyes.
There were trees laden with fruits, bright flowers that seemed to sparkle, and the grass was the deepest shade of green that Dean had ever seen. He stopped walking to take it all in. Somerled looked at him in amusement.
“Honestly,” he remarked, “one would think you had never been on castle grounds before.”
Dean scowled. “I haven’t.”
Somerled chuckled. “If you choose to believe so, that is your right, I suppose.” He proceeded to the castle doors then paused. When he turned to look at Dean expectantly, Dean rolled his eyes and followed suit.
Somerled threw the doors open and headed down the nearest hall. Dean had to move brusquely to keep up with the mysterious hedgehog.
As they moved further down the hall, Dean could hear angry voices.
“My Lord, I would never dare to disobey you!” the first voice said. “I am only voicing my concerns. My only loyalty is to you.”
“If your loyalty is to me, then how do you dare to stand there and say such things?” demanded the second voice.
“I worry for you! You have wasted - wasted - so many centuries chasing after him to atone for what you believe you did wrong. He could go through many life cycles and never even remember you. Yet you cling to him so desperately!”
The sound of something being thrown against a wall precluded the second voice bellowing, “I cling to him as only a soul mate would! I do not cling to him out of some absurd sense of barrenness! He would have done the same for me. And I would not have to do it had I not made mistakes. It is my duty to return his soul to him!”
“…You are not obligated to do this anymore. It is okay to let him alone.”
Somerled wasted no time in making their presence known. He charged through the door to their right and led Dean into the room where the voices were coming from.
“My Lord, I have found him,” he announced.
Inside the room were two men: one was ordinary looking enough, but the other one…he was dressed in a dark vest and slacks, which were also normal enough, but his skin… It was bright blue and when he turned to look at them, Dean’s breath caught in his chest. The man had bright blue eyes to match his skin. And the way they stared at Dean…they were so familiar. It was as if they had done this a thousand times.
“Dean,” the man said, his voice breaking. He made to move toward Dean, hand extended as if he we going to touch him - but at the last second, he stopped. He faltered, hand falling to rest at his side, a sad look forming in his eyes.
“I know you, don’t I?” Dean asked.
“We were…acquainted, yes. You know me.”
“If I know you, why don’t I know your name?”
The man smiled patiently. “You know my name. That’s the one thing I can always count on. You never truly forget it.”
Dean looked at the man wearily. There was definitely something about him…It was there, in the back of his mind, but it was fleeting. Every time he got close to it, it slipped through his fingers.
The man began to laugh.
“What’s so damn funny, Cas?” Dean demanded. The name slipped so easily out of his mouth, he almost didn’t notice that he had said it at all. There it was again - something, in the back of his mind, fleeting - it was like being in a dream. He could hear himself panting out that name. Breathless, lustful, heady: “Cas.”
“There you are. I am Castiel,” the man said, nodding his head. “God of the Seas.”
Dean’s eyes grew wide. A God? Gods were unheard of these days. No one had seen any sort of God since the 1800s. It was rumored that now and then reincarnated Gods would appear; that was the closest they’d ever gotten to seeing one.
“You’re a…a God?” Dean asked skeptically. Castiel nodded.
“I can see the disbelief on your face,” he said. “I’m sure it must be strange to hear me state it so plainly. I am the only one left on this planet. My Father resides in Heaven. The others have left.”
“You’re all alone?”
“Well…I do have two loyal friends. They seem to have the misfortune of being stuck with me for eternity.” He chuckled softly as he shook his head.
Somerled bowed his head somberly and responded, “It has never been a misfortune, King of Oceans. It has only been an honor.”
Castiel smiled at his friend. “And this,” he said, indicating the steam punk guy beside him, “is Samandriel.” Samandriel nodded stiffly at him.
Somerled quipped, “Perhaps we should leave the two of you to speak with one another. Samandriel let us depart to the kitchen. We can have a go at those pancakes you keep talking about.”
Castiel closed the door after his servants left. He held onto the door for a moment, his back to Dean. Dean watched as the God's back moved up and down, the motions of a heavy sigh. Finally he turned to Dean and motioned for him to sit down.
“I have not seen you in many centuries,” he commented as he sat down next to Dean.
“Your friend said the same thing,” Dean replied. The blue-skinned God observed him quietly. Dean cleared his throat. “How do we know each other?”
“We were lovers once.” Castiel said it simply, without reserve. Dean wasn’t sure how to respond. “My lover’s soul is reincarnated every century. I have made it my mission to find him and restore his soul fully to him. Inside of you is part of his soul. You are, partially, the one I have been searching for. When I reunite you with the rest of your soul, you will be complete.”
“I feel pretty complete right now.”
“You usually do. You have, most often, led a normal life. The common factor in every life is that you are always searching for a way to the ocean. I would wager that in this life, in this day and age, you work closely by the ocean.”
“How did you know that?”
“It’s just a guess.” Castiel’s eyes sparkled in bemusement. “You once spent an entire lifetime searching for Oceanus.”
“Oceanus…the Titan?”
“Yes. Older civilizations believed that Oceanus was a Titan that was the embodiment of the ocean’s power. They weren’t entirely wrong.”
Dean sat quietly, trying to let it all sink in.
“You said you’re the only God left,” he said after some time. “What did you mean when you said the rest left? How does a God just…leave?”
For the first time since their meeting, Castiel began to look uncomfortable. “It’s an unpleasant process.”
When Castiel did not explain further, Dean took it as a cue to let the matter drop for the time being. Instead, he went on to ask, “How long has your -- have I been stuck in a cycle of reincarnation? Am I going to be this way forever?”
“It has been far too long,” Castiel replied sadly. “I have existed even longer than you. “
Even longer? Dean wondered. How old was this guy?
“I take it you’re pretty old then. You look good for an old man.”
Castiel laughed, head thrown back in amusement. When he stopped laughing, he looked at Dean once more. “You’re taking this well,” he said thoughtfully.
“Seeing is believing, right? I’m sitting in a castle by the sea. A few hours ago, I was at a bar. If I hadn’t been there to see it, I might not believe it. But we’re sitting here. It’s real, right?”
“I certainly hope so.”
---
In the kitchen, Samandriel sat on the counter, watching Somerled procure a batch of pancakes. He sat with his arms crossed and a pout on his face.
“Oh come now,” Somerled said suddenly, back to Samandriel. “Stop your pouting. Why do you object so strongly to his happiness?”
“Is that what you perceive me to be? An objector to his happiness?”
Somerled shrugged as he flipped the pancakes. “I am only noting that your behavior is peculiar. You’ve never had an issue with it before.”
Samandriel said nothing. He did not trust Somerled. Had not trusted him in a long time. He had started to wonder if he ever should have.
Instead of voicing any of these thoughts, Samandriel pursed his lips. He was certain there was a reason they had been unable to find Dean’s soul over the last several centuries. His soul had to have been held somewhere. If Castiel were no so consumed with grief, Samandriel was certain he would also have found it most curious.
He would have to bring it to Dean’s attention. This was not their Dean - not fully - but it was worth an attempt.
---
“Explain something to me,” Dean said. He turned to face Castiel fully. “Where is my soul now?”
“Ah...in Purgatory. The God of Hell carries the charge of ferrying your soul back to this world when I call upon it.”
“And how do you go about calling upon it?”
“There is a ritual we perform. It calls upon your lost soul...beckons it, you could say. The underworld ruler is forced to bring your soul to the brinks of the area where the ritual is being performed. He isn’t allowed on this plane so he cannot stay long. He delivers the soul to the area then departs.”
“Why isn’t he allowed here?”
Castiel got that uncomfortable look on his face again. It was mixed with a little pain, as though it hurt him to remember. “When my Father expelled the remaining Gods from his Kingdom, he damned Iblis to Hell. Iblis vowed to corrupt every human that crossed his path, in retaliation. He is sometimes permitted to move freely throughout the lower realms but he is never allowed here. It is his punishment.”
“Expelled? Why were the Gods expelled?”
“Because of you. Because of us.” Castiel was suddenly unable to look at him. Instead he gazed at the ground.
Dean wanted to know more. Wanted to ask why it made Castiel look so sad. But there was a sudden knock at the door.
“My Lord,” said Samandriel through the door. “Somerled requests your counsel. He wishes to go over the ritual materials.”
“Yes, of course,” Castiel called back. He pulled himself away from Dean’s side and headed to the door. “Feel free to keep Dean company,” he said to Samandriel as he left the room. Samandriel took Castiel’s abandoned seat.
The two men stared at one another for a while before Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. He got the distinct feeling that this one was not a fan of his.
Samandriel had intense eyes that seemed to see through him. It made Dean feel more than a little exposed.
“Dude, did I do something to rub you the wrong way?” he demanded to know. “You’re giving me mega stink eyes.”
Samandriel sat back in his chair and observed Dean. “I wish to speak to you about something of a personal nature,” he said after a while.
“Okay…go for it.”
Once more, Samandriel took a moment before saying anything. He seemed to be considering his words very carefully.
“There is a taxing ritual that my Lord must perform in order to restore you to your former glory,” he said. “I have never before had any reason to doubt it. It was a punishment bestowed upon him by his Father. We do not question it. However, this time I find certain things…quite intriguing.”
“Such as?”
“As they have already said to you, you were lost for quite some time. I find that most peculiar. I find it peculiar because Iblis is the one charged with ensuring souls go where they need to go. So why was yours lost for so long?”
“I get the feeling you think it was done menacingly.”
“Correct.” Samandriel tapped his fingers against his knee nervously. “But…I cannot tell Castiel that. You may have heard us arguing as you got here. He thinks I am undermining his authority. I am only worried about him. I fear that he cannot see the situation’s suspicious circumstance because he is so happy to have you back.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“I would like your assistance in researching an alternative ritual. We have used the same one for many years. But I fear it may be tainted now.”
Samandriel’s eyes were shining with fierce intent. Dean nodded his head slowly.
“Sure thing,” he said. “Let me know whenever you need me. Anything to avoid hurting myself, right?”
With a secret smile on his face, Samandriel took his leave.
---
As the days progressed, Dean felt more and more certain that Castiel was someone who knew him to the depths of his being. He knew everything there was to know.
The only thing about Castiel that Dean found himself unwilling to go near was his pet, Bahamut.
Bahamut was a shark one thousand feet in length. He was massive, a missile made of muscle and teeth. His lilac skin was marred with red scars and ritualistic markings. Castiel had said that the reasons for the markings were so that no innocent people would happen upon him. The markings guided him in his adventures so that he steered clear of mortals.
When Castiel asked why Dean was so afraid of Bahamut, Dean had responded gruffly, “’M not afraid. I just…I don’t trust sharks, okay?”
“You have never feared Bahamut before.”
“Yeah well, I bet my family had never been in a camping accident before either.” When Castiel looked confused, Dean continued. “When I was ten years old, my dad took my brother and me fishing. Sammy…he loved to go fishin’. We’d ride out in our little dingy every chance we got.”
Dean’s eyes became bright as he went on. “We took our aunt Ellen with us and our cousin Jo. She was the best. Always gave Sammy and me a run for our money. Anyway, uh…the last day of our trip, we wanted to get in one more fishing expedition. We were on the boat when something - something flipped us over.”
“Some thing?”
“Yeah, well, the cops said it was a miscalculation. An error in judgment. Said my old man didn’t do a good enough job of keeping us away from some rocks that sent us flying upside down. But when I was in the water…I swear I saw a shark out there.” As Dean admitted it, his face began to redden. “I know it’s dumb. It’s just the exaggerated memories of a little boy but…it always stuck with me.”
Castiel placed a hand reassuringly on Dean’s shoulder. “Was everyone alright?” he asked.
Dean shook his head. “Nah. I was the only one who made it. Everyone else…they were trapped under the boat. But the current scooped me up. I was spared.”
His tone became bitter, his expression grew hard. Castiel realized he was no longer accustomed to how Dean needed to be comforted. He noted the way Dean’s arms were crossed, protectively.
After pushing his uncertainty aside, he lunged forward and pulled Dean into an embrace. He found that Dean did not fight him. Instead, Dean sighed and rested his head against Castiel’s shoulder.
They stood that way for a long time, neither one wanting to break it up.
As Castiel took in the feel of his lost lover’s body, it occurred to him that this life cycle had certainly been as rough as ever. But when he walked with Dean later, and Dean recounted the stories of how exquisite his mother was, Castiel discovered one marvelous detail about Dean’s life this time around: Finally, after centuries, he was able to know the loving touch of a mother’s hand all his life.
---
The more Dean looked into the ritual, the more uneasy he became. Samandriel was definitely onto something. And the more he learned about the Gods, the happier he was that they were leaving Castiel out of this for the time being. Dean had started to mention how uncomfortable he was with the ritual a few days prior, but Castiel had seem preoccupied. Dean supposed it was for the best since this seemed to be sketchy research.
These Gods were ruthless. And if the stories were true, Castiel was as ruthless as the rest. He served his Ruler’s purpose without question. He had spent several centuries as the smiting dog, apparently. (Smiting Dog being a nickname Dean had come up with on his own, thank you very much.) Rule breaking was taken seriously. He didn’t want to imagine what would happen to Cas if anyone found out the Sea God was trying to find an out of the ordinary way to bring Dean’s soul back.
Now and then Dean would come across a historical account that stirred something in his memory. He could see fleeting images or catch phantom scents, but he couldn’t grasp onto it long enough to really figure it out. He grew so frustrated that he stopped trying altogether and left the book worming to Samandriel.
And Samandriel was nothing if not a fountain of reassurance.
“I’m sure you find this frustrating but I have learned a lot,” he said one day. “I was never certain before that you were still…you. But when I see your eyes scrunched in concentration, I can tell that it really does stir up something for you. It must be maddening.”
“Well gee, thanks pal.”
---
It was during breakfast one morning that Somerled said to Castiel, as he stuffed a forkful of egg into his mouth, “My Lord, does it strike you as odd that Samandriel and Dean are spending an awful lot of time together?”
“Of course not,” was Castiel’s response. “If Samandriel can help drudge up any memories, all the better.”
“Yes, of course,” Somerled assented. He gave his fork a long lick before continuing. “It’s just…I thought I heard Samandriel advising our reincarnated Lord on the best way to stall for more time. It sounded as though he was looking to postpone the bringing back of Dean’s soul.”
Castiel stood up suddenly, sending his plate flying across the table. “He said what?”
“It was only a snippet of conversation. It is entirely possible that I misunderstood Samandriel’s intentions.”
Castiel stalked out of the dining room. He intended to find out what Samandriel’s intentions were.
Samandriel resided in the highest room in the castle. It was dark and quiet in there, with a big window that he liked to sit in front of. He would watch the waters in the distance and, sometimes, he would even push the window open so he could hear the crash of the waves against the rocks.
He was sitting on his window ledge when he heard rapidly approaching footsteps. He stowed away the book he had been reading. Titled Quid Pro Soul, it was full of detailed accounts on how soul trading worked. He was so close to finding out where Dean’s soul had been. So close.
The last entry he had been reading had said:
To guarantee that a soul be hidden, something must first be given. Quid Pro Quo. Those of the Underworld are happy to make deals for the right price. Have you offered a high enough price?