A Demon, An Angel, And A God-King Meet In The Afterlife: Chapter 2
Ratings, disclaimer, etc with Chapter 1
The massive pillars and paving stones disappeared, and a dingy little bed, rickety nightstand and an old TV set materialized in the middle of the shop. Castiel guessed that the holding cell conformed to the setting that its occupants were most comfortable in, and it almost made him laugh that after all his millennia of existence outside the human plane he was most comfortable in a place that reeked of humanity. Although, according to Death, Castiel was now not "entirely not-human," whatever that had meant. It was a question he'd have to save for the Horseman's return.
The demon named Anyanka was taking deep breaths, her eyes closed, pulling her arms up to her chest as she inhaled, swinging them away from her body as she exhaled. "It's okay," she seemed to be talking to herself. "This isn't scary at all. Being dead isn't that bad. Everything's okay." She took another deep breath and opened her eyes, and saw Castiel watching her curiously.
"What's your deal?" Anyanka asked, a bit too demanding to be conversational.
"What do you mean?" Castiel said, regarding her warily. Anyanka seemed harmless enough, but she was still a monster.
"You know I'm a demon. Illyria's a god or a king or whatever. What are you?"
"I'm an angel," Castiel answered, after a second adding, "of the Lord." He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge.
"Oh." Anya nodded, seemingly impressed. Then her brow furrowed. "So I'm stuck with a killer angel whose happy place is an ugly motel room with-" she approached the bed, examining the coin-operated mechanism attached to it. "- 'Magic Fingers.' Is that a masturbation aid?"
Castiel glared at Anyanka. He decided he didn't like her.
"And I'm stuck with a demon," he answered coldly.
"Hey, I died saving the world, dickface." Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I'm a demon with a shot at heaven. But you're an angel on the steps of hell. I think that's everything we need to know about each other."
Castiel didn't see the self-satisfied grin on Anyanka's face as she turned away from him, nor the way she mouthed "Burn!" to herself as she walked to the back of the shop.
She was right, of course. Castiel had no business looking down on her. He had killed scores of people over the past months, and would be responsible for the deaths of hundreds more, assuming that the Leviathan had escaped - which was the only explanation for how he ended up dead. So really he was no better than a demon in that respect.
Castiel couldn't remember ever hating himself so much.
***
Illyria had never felt so trapped, and since she had spent her entire life after resurrection feeling trapped, that was saying something. The courtroom was grand, all glossy marble and gilt, befitting the trial of one such as her. But the walls were made of more than marble, and they penned Illyria in. But what made Illyria feel caged most of all were the three beings who sat before her. The tribunal.
In the centre was one of the new gods, in a human form he fashioned for his own use, one that looked weak and unassuming. To his right was the Mother, stuck in a human shell, like Illyria was. Though not as old as Illyria, she was the eldest of the three, and had given birth to many a race of creatures. Illyria could respect her. And to the god's left-
"A measly demon," she sneered. "No more than the grime under my nails. Why do you sit with my judges?"
"I am one of your judges, darling," he answered smugly. "You've got the God of Heaven," he pointed to the new god, "Mother of Purgatory," he gestured towards the Mother, "and me. King of Hell."
"A usurper." The demon's eyes narrowed. Illyria continued, "Devious and cunning, no real power about you at all. The other two are babes as gods, but they are at least creators, they can shape worlds to their will. You scramble to control your realm. I would crush you under my heel by accident; you aren't worth the effort of deliberate movement."
The demon did his best to remain composed, but Illyria saw the cracks - his blinking too rapid, the line of his mouth too hard. She recognized the look in his eye - he was threatened, knowing a real leader when he saw one. Illyria smiled.
"Right..." the demon said, keeping his tone light and easy. He turned and hunched towards the god, saying in an agitated whisper, "Look, I don't care what you two decide to do with her, just keep the bitch the hell away from Hell!"
"Yeah, I-I get that." The god didn't take his eyes off older god before him. He leaned forward. "Illyria, I was hoping you could tell us how you feel about your time living among humans."
Illyria cocked her head, thinking the question strange. Then she remembered. "Yes, the humans are your pets, aren't they?" She stepped closer to the bench. "You must be a cruel god. Your children's lives are petty and meaningless, filled with sorrow and longing. A benificent god would wipe them off the planet."
The god sighed and forced a tight smile across his face. "Alrighty then." He fixed Illyria with his gaze, and she was surprised that she found it unsettling. "Winifred Burkle," he said, "we'd like to speak to you now."
"You cannot speak to her," Illyria protested, a bit too much, "I burned her out of this shell."
The god ignored her. "Come on Winifred, don't be shy."
Illyria felt herself fading into blackness.
***
Anya sat on the floor at the back of the Magic Box, reading one of Giles' books. Naturally, it was boring. But she had to do something to keep her mind of the fact that she didn't know whether her friends had made it out of Sunnydale alive, and that, oh yeah, she was dead.
Anya was considering making nice with Castiel just to have someone to talk to, when a shadow fell over the page. Speak of the angel, she thought.
"I'd like to apologize for my behaviour," he said, abashed.
Anya closed the book and looked up at him expectantly.
"I'm sorry for snapping at you and using your demonic nature as an insult."
Anya nodded. "As you should be."
Castiel continued to stand there, awkwardly. Anya sighed and gave him a conciliatory smile. "Pull up some floor."
Castiel furrowed his brow and cocked his head as if he didn't know what she meant. Anya patted the ground next to her, and Castiel nodded in understanding. He sat down next to her, his posture stiff and formal.
"So, angel, eh? What's that like?"
***
Anyanka was curious. This, Castiel could understand. The persistence of her questions, however, he had less sympathy for.
He had barely finished attempting to explain how time works in heaven, when she asked, "Do angels watch people have sex?"
It was a strange question, but he answered honestly, "Not deliberately."
"So you do watch."
"If we're assigned to watch over an individual, or over human events, then we watch them."
"Do you watch people when they're pooping?"
Castiel sighed, wondering how many times he would have to repeat himself. "If that's what we're assigned to do-"
"Do you get off on it?"
Castiel gaped at the demon woman's nerve. "Angels do not 'get off'."
Anyanka raised her eyebrows. "You don't have sex at all?"
Castiel looked away from her inquisitive stare. The conversation was getting into uncomfortably familiar territory. "Not typically."
"So you can, but you don't."
"Anyanka-"
"Call me Anya."
"Anya..."
Castiel was close to walking away and doing his best to ignore her. But then he'd be alone with his guilt and his memories, with nothing to do but anticipate having to answer for his crimes. Anya's company was at least preferable to that.
"Why don't you tell me something about yourself?"
Anya beamed. "Thanks for asking!"
***
"Winifred, do you know what's happening?" the man who reminded Fred of a lost puppy asked.
It was mostly a blur, but Fred remembered... pain and blackness.
"Illyria - took me. And..." Fred dug around in her consciousness, felt Illyria still there, and found snatches of memory, of fighting and coming apart at the seams. "... and now she's dead. I'm dead." She looked searchingly at the three people in front of her. "So where am I?"
"Well, Winifred-"
"Fred. Please."
The puppy-like man smiled kindly. "Fred. You can call me Chuck. I'm God."
"Wha...?" Fred's face went blank with shock.
Chuck gestured to a stout man with thinning hair on his left. "This is Crowley, he's... well, basically the devil."
"King of Hell, thank you," Crowley corrected affibly.
Chuck rolled his eyes and pointed to a dark-haired girl on his right. "And this is Eve."
"The Eve?" Fred asked.
"Not the one you're thinking of sweetie. I'm the mother of what you call monsters."
"Oh."
"Take a second," Chuck offered.
"Thanks." Fred smiled weakly and took a calming breath.
After a moment, Chuck started to explain, "Now that Illyria's dead, we need to figure out what to do with her. Your soul is fused to her," he spoke slowly and carefully, "So she can't go back to The Well. She's too powerful for Hell, and, she'd probably wreak havoc in Heaven."
"I could take her," Eve cut in.
"Are you out of your bleeding mind?!" Crowley practically roared.
"I think we'd get along," Eve responded calmly. "Besides, I thought you said you don't care what we do with her?"
"I'll care when she breaks out of Purgatory with an army of monsters behind her, and starts swarming over the rest of us!"
"Yeah..." Chuck licked his lips thoughtfully. "I... I really don't think that's a good idea, Eve."
"Thank you," Crowley huffed. "Two against one, love," he added, with a glare at Eve, whose only reply was to cross her arms and purse her lips.
"Which means," Chuck went on, "that the remaining options are destroying both of you entirely-"
"Exactly, only reasonable conclusion- wait options? As in plural?"
"Or," Chuck did his best to ignore Crowley's interruption, "I was thinking we could give you a measure of control over Illyria. Make it so you could hold her down. Then, maybe at the end of your natural life, she'd be more aclimatized to humans, and maybe-"
"And maybe, what? Be ready for heaven?"
"Yeah, Crowley, exactly," Chuck snapped, losing patience with his colleague.
"Oh my god..." Crowley muttered. "Not you, obviously," he added, with a sideways glance at Chuck.
Chuck turned his attention back to Fred. "I wanted to know how you felt about that."
Fred nodded. It was several minutes until she spoke. "How much control?"
"Some." There was a forced brightness to Chuck's tone. Crowley rolled his eyes. "We've never done this before," Chuck admitted, "so I can't say exactly, but I think, enough for you to live more or less normally."
Fred grimaced. It didn't seem like much of a plan. "I don't like the sound of that, Chuck."
"Great!" Crowley exclaimed. "Good, there is one other sane person in this courtroom."
Chuck looked so let down, that Fred continued to explain, "What if I'm not strong enough? And what if she gets angry at being trapped? I don't want anyone else hurt because of her. And I really don't want anyone hurt because of me."
Chuck gave a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry there's no other way. You belong in heaven, Fred."
Chapter 3
The massive pillars and paving stones disappeared, and a dingy little bed, rickety nightstand and an old TV set materialized in the middle of the shop. Castiel guessed that the holding cell conformed to the setting that its occupants were most comfortable in, and it almost made him laugh that after all his millennia of existence outside the human plane he was most comfortable in a place that reeked of humanity. Although, according to Death, Castiel was now not "entirely not-human," whatever that had meant. It was a question he'd have to save for the Horseman's return.
The demon named Anyanka was taking deep breaths, her eyes closed, pulling her arms up to her chest as she inhaled, swinging them away from her body as she exhaled. "It's okay," she seemed to be talking to herself. "This isn't scary at all. Being dead isn't that bad. Everything's okay." She took another deep breath and opened her eyes, and saw Castiel watching her curiously.
"What's your deal?" Anyanka asked, a bit too demanding to be conversational.
"What do you mean?" Castiel said, regarding her warily. Anyanka seemed harmless enough, but she was still a monster.
"You know I'm a demon. Illyria's a god or a king or whatever. What are you?"
"I'm an angel," Castiel answered, after a second adding, "of the Lord." He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge.
"Oh." Anya nodded, seemingly impressed. Then her brow furrowed. "So I'm stuck with a killer angel whose happy place is an ugly motel room with-" she approached the bed, examining the coin-operated mechanism attached to it. "- 'Magic Fingers.' Is that a masturbation aid?"
Castiel glared at Anyanka. He decided he didn't like her.
"And I'm stuck with a demon," he answered coldly.
"Hey, I died saving the world, dickface." Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I'm a demon with a shot at heaven. But you're an angel on the steps of hell. I think that's everything we need to know about each other."
Castiel didn't see the self-satisfied grin on Anyanka's face as she turned away from him, nor the way she mouthed "Burn!" to herself as she walked to the back of the shop.
She was right, of course. Castiel had no business looking down on her. He had killed scores of people over the past months, and would be responsible for the deaths of hundreds more, assuming that the Leviathan had escaped - which was the only explanation for how he ended up dead. So really he was no better than a demon in that respect.
Castiel couldn't remember ever hating himself so much.
***
Illyria had never felt so trapped, and since she had spent her entire life after resurrection feeling trapped, that was saying something. The courtroom was grand, all glossy marble and gilt, befitting the trial of one such as her. But the walls were made of more than marble, and they penned Illyria in. But what made Illyria feel caged most of all were the three beings who sat before her. The tribunal.
In the centre was one of the new gods, in a human form he fashioned for his own use, one that looked weak and unassuming. To his right was the Mother, stuck in a human shell, like Illyria was. Though not as old as Illyria, she was the eldest of the three, and had given birth to many a race of creatures. Illyria could respect her. And to the god's left-
"A measly demon," she sneered. "No more than the grime under my nails. Why do you sit with my judges?"
"I am one of your judges, darling," he answered smugly. "You've got the God of Heaven," he pointed to the new god, "Mother of Purgatory," he gestured towards the Mother, "and me. King of Hell."
"A usurper." The demon's eyes narrowed. Illyria continued, "Devious and cunning, no real power about you at all. The other two are babes as gods, but they are at least creators, they can shape worlds to their will. You scramble to control your realm. I would crush you under my heel by accident; you aren't worth the effort of deliberate movement."
The demon did his best to remain composed, but Illyria saw the cracks - his blinking too rapid, the line of his mouth too hard. She recognized the look in his eye - he was threatened, knowing a real leader when he saw one. Illyria smiled.
"Right..." the demon said, keeping his tone light and easy. He turned and hunched towards the god, saying in an agitated whisper, "Look, I don't care what you two decide to do with her, just keep the bitch the hell away from Hell!"
"Yeah, I-I get that." The god didn't take his eyes off older god before him. He leaned forward. "Illyria, I was hoping you could tell us how you feel about your time living among humans."
Illyria cocked her head, thinking the question strange. Then she remembered. "Yes, the humans are your pets, aren't they?" She stepped closer to the bench. "You must be a cruel god. Your children's lives are petty and meaningless, filled with sorrow and longing. A benificent god would wipe them off the planet."
The god sighed and forced a tight smile across his face. "Alrighty then." He fixed Illyria with his gaze, and she was surprised that she found it unsettling. "Winifred Burkle," he said, "we'd like to speak to you now."
"You cannot speak to her," Illyria protested, a bit too much, "I burned her out of this shell."
The god ignored her. "Come on Winifred, don't be shy."
Illyria felt herself fading into blackness.
***
Anya sat on the floor at the back of the Magic Box, reading one of Giles' books. Naturally, it was boring. But she had to do something to keep her mind of the fact that she didn't know whether her friends had made it out of Sunnydale alive, and that, oh yeah, she was dead.
Anya was considering making nice with Castiel just to have someone to talk to, when a shadow fell over the page. Speak of the angel, she thought.
"I'd like to apologize for my behaviour," he said, abashed.
Anya closed the book and looked up at him expectantly.
"I'm sorry for snapping at you and using your demonic nature as an insult."
Anya nodded. "As you should be."
Castiel continued to stand there, awkwardly. Anya sighed and gave him a conciliatory smile. "Pull up some floor."
Castiel furrowed his brow and cocked his head as if he didn't know what she meant. Anya patted the ground next to her, and Castiel nodded in understanding. He sat down next to her, his posture stiff and formal.
"So, angel, eh? What's that like?"
***
Anyanka was curious. This, Castiel could understand. The persistence of her questions, however, he had less sympathy for.
He had barely finished attempting to explain how time works in heaven, when she asked, "Do angels watch people have sex?"
It was a strange question, but he answered honestly, "Not deliberately."
"So you do watch."
"If we're assigned to watch over an individual, or over human events, then we watch them."
"Do you watch people when they're pooping?"
Castiel sighed, wondering how many times he would have to repeat himself. "If that's what we're assigned to do-"
"Do you get off on it?"
Castiel gaped at the demon woman's nerve. "Angels do not 'get off'."
Anyanka raised her eyebrows. "You don't have sex at all?"
Castiel looked away from her inquisitive stare. The conversation was getting into uncomfortably familiar territory. "Not typically."
"So you can, but you don't."
"Anyanka-"
"Call me Anya."
"Anya..."
Castiel was close to walking away and doing his best to ignore her. But then he'd be alone with his guilt and his memories, with nothing to do but anticipate having to answer for his crimes. Anya's company was at least preferable to that.
"Why don't you tell me something about yourself?"
Anya beamed. "Thanks for asking!"
***
"Winifred, do you know what's happening?" the man who reminded Fred of a lost puppy asked.
It was mostly a blur, but Fred remembered... pain and blackness.
"Illyria - took me. And..." Fred dug around in her consciousness, felt Illyria still there, and found snatches of memory, of fighting and coming apart at the seams. "... and now she's dead. I'm dead." She looked searchingly at the three people in front of her. "So where am I?"
"Well, Winifred-"
"Fred. Please."
The puppy-like man smiled kindly. "Fred. You can call me Chuck. I'm God."
"Wha...?" Fred's face went blank with shock.
Chuck gestured to a stout man with thinning hair on his left. "This is Crowley, he's... well, basically the devil."
"King of Hell, thank you," Crowley corrected affibly.
Chuck rolled his eyes and pointed to a dark-haired girl on his right. "And this is Eve."
"The Eve?" Fred asked.
"Not the one you're thinking of sweetie. I'm the mother of what you call monsters."
"Oh."
"Take a second," Chuck offered.
"Thanks." Fred smiled weakly and took a calming breath.
After a moment, Chuck started to explain, "Now that Illyria's dead, we need to figure out what to do with her. Your soul is fused to her," he spoke slowly and carefully, "So she can't go back to The Well. She's too powerful for Hell, and, she'd probably wreak havoc in Heaven."
"I could take her," Eve cut in.
"Are you out of your bleeding mind?!" Crowley practically roared.
"I think we'd get along," Eve responded calmly. "Besides, I thought you said you don't care what we do with her?"
"I'll care when she breaks out of Purgatory with an army of monsters behind her, and starts swarming over the rest of us!"
"Yeah..." Chuck licked his lips thoughtfully. "I... I really don't think that's a good idea, Eve."
"Thank you," Crowley huffed. "Two against one, love," he added, with a glare at Eve, whose only reply was to cross her arms and purse her lips.
"Which means," Chuck went on, "that the remaining options are destroying both of you entirely-"
"Exactly, only reasonable conclusion- wait options? As in plural?"
"Or," Chuck did his best to ignore Crowley's interruption, "I was thinking we could give you a measure of control over Illyria. Make it so you could hold her down. Then, maybe at the end of your natural life, she'd be more aclimatized to humans, and maybe-"
"And maybe, what? Be ready for heaven?"
"Yeah, Crowley, exactly," Chuck snapped, losing patience with his colleague.
"Oh my god..." Crowley muttered. "Not you, obviously," he added, with a sideways glance at Chuck.
Chuck turned his attention back to Fred. "I wanted to know how you felt about that."
Fred nodded. It was several minutes until she spoke. "How much control?"
"Some." There was a forced brightness to Chuck's tone. Crowley rolled his eyes. "We've never done this before," Chuck admitted, "so I can't say exactly, but I think, enough for you to live more or less normally."
Fred grimaced. It didn't seem like much of a plan. "I don't like the sound of that, Chuck."
"Great!" Crowley exclaimed. "Good, there is one other sane person in this courtroom."
Chuck looked so let down, that Fred continued to explain, "What if I'm not strong enough? And what if she gets angry at being trapped? I don't want anyone else hurt because of her. And I really don't want anyone hurt because of me."
Chuck gave a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry there's no other way. You belong in heaven, Fred."
Chapter 3