A Demon, An Angel, And A God-King Meet In The Afterlife: Chapter 5
Ratings, disclaimer, etc with Chapter 1
Previously: Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
Castiel lay on his back, missing people, as he tried to make out the peak of the ceiling of Illyria's temple . Illyria had discovered the television set, and was watching show about doctors, thankfully leaving Castiel to try to ignore her oppressive presence as much as was possible in a tiny room that was half-filled with a statue of her.
Castiel tried to escape to his memories from the millions of years when things were simple. But of the brothers and sisters he shared those times with, most were gone, and too many by his own hand. Anna, Balthazar, Rachel, even Uriel - he missed them all. And he missed the sense of certainty and purpose that they shared. Part of him felt like that had been robbed from them, but of course he knew now that the certainty had always been a lie. There was no comfort in those memories.
So Castiel's thoughts returned to Dean, as they always did. Dean was the switch that turned something on in Castiel, that challenged him to see and think differently, and awoke emotions that he never knew he could feel. Cas missed the trust that they shared, so different from that between him and his siblings, because it was so hard earned. And easily lost. He missed the way Dean spoke with his soul through his eyes, so that when he met his gaze everything inside Dean was as visible as when Castiel first found his soul in Hell. And Cas missed Sam, poor Sam, trying so hard to do the right thing, and always falling prey to the worst evils along the way. Including me. He missed fighting alongside the brothers, the comraderie, the sense of purpose that was different because it was a purpose that Cas had discovered for himself.
Castiel wished that he had been able to find Dean without the Apocalypse hovering over them, that they had been able to share some genuine happiness. As it was, even his best memories were tinged with darkness. Castiel knew he had to enjoy them while he could. In Hell, the memories would be ripped from him, melted down and reforged into weapons of torture.
"This drama is very instructive about the workings of human relationships," came Illyria's voice from the foot of the bed. "I wish I had discovered it when it would have been of more use to me."
Castiel said nothing. He thought of Dean's eyes again. Crowley could go hang himself.
He heard the television being shut off. Illyria entered his line of sight, standing over him. "It illustrated how love interfered in the lives and work of human healers."
Thinking of Dean was painful, but Castiel couldn't bring himself to push the man from his mind. Dean changed him. He was the fissure in Castiel's grace. And whether Cas had acted to protect him or impress him, he couldn't honestly say, but everything was because of him.
"Love is a weakness," Castiel said, understanding what Illyria was getting at.
"Do you agree now?"
Castiel shrugged. He really didn't know anymore.
Something seemed to catch Illyria's attention, and she walked around to the other side of the bed.
Illyria had a way of driving Castiel's thoughts to the most painful and troubling conclusions, then coralling them there. He found himself missing Anya. She could be grating and invasive, but there was a brightness to her personality that Castiel appreciated. He wished for her company.
Castiel heard the clinking of coins. Then the bed started vibrating, and Illyria lay down next to him. Castiel couldn't be bothered to move.
After a minute, Illyria spoke. "I fail to understand how magic is involved in this device."
"There isn't any," Castiel explained with disinterest. "It's an idiom."
"Then how are fingers incorperated?"
"They aren't."
There was silence, except for the hum of the vibrating bed, as lllyria absorbed this information.
"The name of the device is a lie," Illyria commented indignantly.
"So it would seem."
The bed hummed and vibrated on.
"It provides a pleasant sensation nonetheless."
Castiel didn't reply.
In his peripheral vision, he saw the walls of the room expanding outward. He got off the bed as Illyria did the same.
Death had returned with Anya, who wore a resigned expression on her tear-stained face.
"The Powers That Be will take a few hours to deliberate," Death told them. "You will be informed of their decisions in due time." Before anyone could ask for more information, he vanished.
Anya walked wearily over to the round table that had rematerialized when her shop had been added back to the environment of the holding cell, and slumped into a chair. An anemic-looking houseplant on the table top caught her attention.
"Who put that there?" Her voice was light and tired-sounding.
"It's Castiel's," Illyria said. "Talking to it made me happy, so I made it stay."
Castiel noticed that, unlike the previous times when the three of them had been in the holding cell together, there were fewer pillars and his motel bed and TV set remained. Those must have made Illyria happy too.
Anya nodded weakly. She looked as wilted as the plant.
It surprised Castiel to see her this way. He had expected at least one of them to be granted entry into Heaven, and Anya seemed the most likely of the three. He went to the table and sat next to her.
"What happened?" he asked softly.
Anya shrugged and shook he head. "I really don't know." Anya made a poor attempt at a smile, before biting her lip and blinking back tears.
Illyria stood next to Anya, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
***
Anya told Castiel and Illyria about her trial.
"Your distress is unwarranted," Illyria said as soon as she was finished. "If none of the Powers are agreed on your fate it may yet be better than Castiel's or mine." Anya's eyebrows arched in surprise. "You should be comforted," Illyria added.
Anya turned to the angel. "What'd they say to you?"
Castiel's eyes roamed the room, looking anywhere except the source of the question. Illyria noticed that he did this whenever he didn't want to talk about something. "Crowley and Eve agreed that I should be in Hell," he muttered.
"Oh, Cas..."
"But Illyria has a point." He looked Anya in the eye. "They haven't decided on you yet. And you bravely made the right choices. My father will surely argue that you have a place in heaven."
Illyria wondered at Castiel's pronouncement on the intentions of his father, it went against all she knew and observed about the new god.
"Why do you say that?" she asked.
Castiel turned to face Illyria, brow furrowed in confusion. "Because it's true," he said plainly.
Illyria tried to read his expression. "Are you lying or deluded?"
Castiel was glaring at her now. "Neither," he said, his voice dropping to a growl.
"Why would he care about Anya's fate? Your father is a cold and distant god who allows his children to suffer and die without his intervention or even the blessing of his presence."
Castiel rose to his feet. His face was a foot and a half from hers. "You're wrong about him."
"Uh... guys?" Anya tried to interject.
Illyria ignored her. She was studying the angel's face. His loyalty to his father was what Illyria would have expected from a soldier of one of the Old Ones. But the Old Ones were deserving. Castiel was a warrior of the highest order, everything about his demenor told her this, as well as the fact that Illyria had found some common footing with him. The way that he made himself subserviant to a lesser god, even after that god had cast him to his enemies, repulsed her.
"A true god would not have allowed you to come to this," Illyria said.
"You speak of something which you know nothing about."
Illyria thought she saw the air ripple around Castiel's head and shoulders. She noticed he adjusted his stance, as though readying to throw a punch. Very well. She had craved violence earlier, and now it seemed like her wish would be fulfilled.
"Guys? Could you just... cool down?" Anya said with a note of distress.
Illyria took several steps away from Castiel, but only so she could size him up.
The angel was weaker than Illyria, but experienced, and thanks to their earlier altercation he had a sense of the kind of strength he was up against. He would be wary of making the first move. Illyria tried to circle around him.
"I was a true god. My subjects knew me. They trembled under my wrath and felt ecstasy at my joy."
Castiel tracked Illyria's movements, turning to face her. For the first time since she met him, Illyria saw shadows and light refracted in the air around Castiel. The edges of wings, and the faces of wild beasts next to that of the man.
Illyria felt the thrill of approaching battle rising in her chest. This would be an easy fight, but not unsatisfying.
"You don't deserve oblivion." There was a wild gleam in Castiel's eyes, and his voice reverberated through the stone of Illyria's temple. "You deserve Hell."
"Both of you, stop and breath, okay?" Anya said.
Illyria's lips curled into a smile. Vindictive in victory with more power than he could command. She understood. "You're not speaking to me at all, but to yourself. It's plain on your face."
Anya shouted something about calming down, but neither Castiel nor Illyria paid her any mind as they circled each other.
"Maybe you're just as much a monster as I am," Castiel said, voice full of loathing.
This fight would be better than Illyria first anticipated. Because for the angel, it was deeply personal.
Illyria stopped pacing and faced her opponent full-on, deliberately openning herself up to attack.
"You wish to fight me, Angel of the Lord?"
Castiel lowered his head, and took a defensive stance. He wasn't taking her bait.
"Angel of the weak and careless god?"
Castiel came at Illyria swinging. She dodged easily, caught him in the jaw with one blow and knocked him down with another.
Castiel rolled when he hit the ground, and he was back on his feet and coming at Illyria again sooner than she expected. He ducked her next swing, and landed a fist in Illyria's solar plexus.
A worthy opponent after all.
A smile spread across Illyria's face.
***
Lunatics. I'm stuck in the waiting room to the afterlife with lunatics, Anya thought, watching the fight play out.
Illyria was clearly superior in strength and skill, and Anya winced, seeing her punch Castiel in the gut and the kick him in the head. Cas had endurance, though, rebounding quickly and unexpected sending Illyria flying into the wall.
"Okay, great, now that's out of your system-" Anya tried, but Illyria was alread back on her feet, and circling Cas again.
"Can't you two just hug it out?"
Apparently not, because another storm of feet and fists erupted between the angel and the god-king. This one ended with Illyria knocking Cas through one of the pillars, and a chunk of it landing on top of him.
"Ouch," Anya said.
She was thinking, Well, at least it's over, when Castiel rose from the rubble, shakey but raising his fists, fixing Illyria with a determined glare.
"Okay, that's enough!" Anya shouted, striding over and inserting herself between the combatants. "STOP! Just stop it!"
Illyria gave Anya a murderous look, and Anya almost bolted before she remembered that she couldn't be killed again.
"What are you two doing?"
She turned to Cas. His gaze was unfocused and he was swaying on his feet. There was blood all over his face and jacket.
"You're going to Hell. You don't think you're going to be punished enough there?"
Castiel blinked and looked like he was trying to figure out which of the three Anyas he was seeing was the real one.
She turned back to Illyria. "And you! You're going to stop existing in a few hours and you're picking fights?"
"I take great pleasure in combat," Illyria said.
"Okay," Anya searched for a response. "Well... I don't want to spend my last few hours before going god-knows-where watching the two of you spray each other's blood all over my fake store!"
Castiel said nothing, staring at the floor in way that could be interpreted as either ashamed or concussed.
Illyria was unfazed. She looked past Anya to her opponent. "Shall we continue?"
Anya just huffed and shook her head. She decided to see if the fake store had any of fake Giles' whiskey hidden under the fake counter.
As she was digging around under the counter, Anya felt tears welling up in her eyes. Crowley convinced Eve that she was his, she was certain. She only had a few hours left to enjoy anything at all, and they were going to be miserable. She stopped and closed her eyes. We won, Anya told herself, repeating it over and over. Her friends were successful, the world was safe, her death meant something. We won.
She found the bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass. When she straightened up, Cas was there. The surprise made Anya jump and shout something incoherent.
Castiel was no longer bloodied, and had a puppy-dog look on his face. "I'm sorry for upsetting you."
He seemed sincere. And the puppy-dog face was appealing. But Anya couldn't get over the way Cas had kept throwing himself at Illyria's fists, especially when she put it together with what the god-king told him before they started going at it. You're not speaking to me at all, but to yourself.
Anya shook her head. "You have issues," she told him.
Cas shrugged in acknowledgement.
Still, better to spend her time with some head-case angel than alone.
"Apology accepted," Anya said, pouring herself a drink. "You want some?"
Cas answered with a weary, "Very much so."
Anya poured a glass for Castiel. He knocked it back immediately and indicated that he'd like some more. When he did the same thing again, Anya just passed him the bottle. "I don't think it's gonna get any emptier," she said. She noticed that the pillar Castiel had flown through just a few minutes ago had repaired itself.
Anya heard Illyria turn on the Magic Fingers, as she watched Cas down the bottle like a hobo with something to forget. Yeah, he definitely has issues.
***
Illyria seemed content to lie on the vibrating bed watching whatever was on TV, which was fine with Castiel because it made it easy for him and Anya to avoid her. The two of them sat at the table with the small house plant, drinking from a bottomless bottle of whiskey. Castiel felt the start of a nice happy buzz, and the comforting numbness of alcohol spreading through his system made it easy to push away thoughts of Heaven and Hell.
"You never told me about your prostitute friends," Anya said.
Cas looked at her askance. Then he remembered. "No," he smiled. "My friends are hunters."
Anya scrunched up her nose. "They stay in crummy motels and shoot animals in the woods?"
"They hunt monsters."
"Oh, like the Scoobies!"
"Who?"
"My friends."
It seemed ages since Anya had told Castiel her life story, before both their trials. But he remembered. "Yes! But that's all they do. None of your jobs or school or settling down. It's a way of life."
"Do they get paid?" Anya asked with great interest.
"No."
Anya rolled her eyes, and finished her glass of whiskey. "Of course not."
She set her glass on the table, and Castiel filled it up again, then took a hearty swig from the bottle himself. As long as he didn't think too hard about what was happening, Castiel could imagine that he was just having a good time, sharing friendly conversation with an aimiable vengeance demon.
"So motels make you happy?"
"Yes," Castiel said firmly.
"What else makes you happy, Cas?" Anya's speech was starting to slur.
Castiel recalled how he felt when he first returned to Heaven after the Apocalypse was averted. "Saving the world."
Anya looked profoundly unimpressed. "Well, obviously, Captain Obvious. I mean things like... closing out the cash register and counting your money, or ice cream, or winning the Game of Life."
"Oh..." Castiel thought he knew what she was getting at. Things that were specific to him. "Seeing my friend smile?" he tried.
"Yes, like that."
"Sunny Tuesdays in the park."
"Good!" Anya said encouragingly.
"Um... this makes me happy," he lifted the bottle of whiskey.
Anya laughed. "Clearly."
"And..." He seemed to be running out of answers. "I'm happy that there is someone brave and good and friendly here for me to spend my time with."
"Oh, Cas..." Anya gave him a watery smile, pressing one hand to her chest, and putting the other on his knee, as a friendly gesture. It felt nice. "I'm glad you're here too. I mean, I'm not glad that you're dead, or-"
"I know what you mean," Cas said reassuringly.
"Now I'm getting weepy. And anxious. The whiskey was supposed to stop that!"
There were indeed tears in Anya's eyes, and her brow crinkled with worry. It made Castiel feel sorry he had said anything at all.
"We need to talk about something else," she said with urgency.
Castiel was wary of hitting on the wrong subject again. "What should we talk about?" he asked seriously.
"I don't know. Tell me a story."
"What kind of story?"
"Just make it a happy one."
***
Illyria was disappointed in her companions. She had begun to feel some kinship with them, only to discover that they were beneath her after all. Castiel's lack of pride was perplexing and repellant, as was Anya's aversion to violence. Illyria reminded herself that mighty rulers ruled alone. But, now she was dead, and ruled over nothing.
She flipped through the television channels. Nothing good was on.
The "magic fingers" device stopped shaking the bed, allowing Illyria to better hear the conversation that Castiel and Anya were having several feet away. He was relating his story about the two brothers, but it was different from the one he told Illyria. Everyone was more noble and made better decisions, and in this version, the brothers had an angel friend.
Curious, Illyria turned off the TV, and joined Castiel and Anya. Anya nodded in acknowledgement as Illyria sat cross-legged on the table top. Castiel glanced at her uneasily, then continued with his story.
"Sam toppled over the ledge with Micheal in his arms."
"Oh no!" Anya cried, and her distress was genuine. "You said this was a happy story!"
"I'm not finished! Dean dove forward and grabbed Sam's hand, and Sam held on Adam. So it was only Lucifer and Micheal who fell into the Cage."
This was definitely not what happened, according to Castiel's earlier telling. And it was inconsistent with his explanation of how angelic vessels worked. But he continued on with his tale before Illyria could question these developments, and she was curious as to how it would turn out.
"Dean held tightly onto Sam, and kept him from falling, but he wasn't strong enough to pull him up. Then Bobby woke up, and he saw Dean trying to save his brother, so he went and helped. But they were both tired and didn't have the strength to lift Sam and Adam over the edge."
Anya nodded excitedly, listening with rapt attention.
"Then, their angel friend came back from where Lucifer had sent him, and he saw what trouble they were in. So he grabbed on to Sam, and raised him... no, wait... they all saved Sam and Adam together."
Illyria realized that Castiel was changing actual events to achieve some sort of effect, though she didn't know to what end.
"And they stood in the field, happy that everyone was alive and that the world was saved."
Anya smiled tearily. Illyria expected the story to end there, but it didn't.
Castiel continued, "Sam and Dean embraced, and said they loved each other, and that each was the best brother that anyone could wish for. They hugged Bobby, and told him, 'Bobby, you are like a father to us, and we love you.' And Bobby said, 'I love you idjits like my sons.'" He affected an accent and gruff demeanor for Bobby's voice.
"Then Sam and Dean remembered that Adam was alone. So they embraced him as well, and said, 'Adam, you are our little brother. We want you to make your home with us.' And Adam said he would. And the four of them decided that they would get a big house with Jo and Ellen where they could all live, and be happy, and hunt monsters as a family."
Illyria wondered what the point of this denument was. It was lengthy and added nothing to the plot. Anya seemed to be enjoying, though.
"Then Sam and Dean remembered their angel friend. They thanked him for his help, and Dean asked him to stay. The angel said, 'I'm sorry, but there is work for me in Heaven.' The brothers understood, but they made the angel promise to join them for dinner every Sunday.
"So the angel returned to Heaven, where he fixed everything that was wrong. And he kept his promise to the brothers. The end."
"It was a beautiful story, Cas," Anya said, wiping tears from her eyes. "These are happy tears."
Illyria considered questioning Castiel about the story. However, he and Anya were more or less ignoring Illyria's presence, and she sensed that they were still angry with her, however unjustly, for her earlier fight with Castiel. She decided to remain aloof.
"I wish I hadn't told you all my stories now," Anya was saying to the angel.
"You can tell me one of them again."
"A happy one, right?"
Anya thought for a moment, then began telling a story about a Vampire Slayer and her friends' fight against Glorificus. Illyria listened intently, for Glorificus was famed for her cruelty and insanity. She was disappointed when the Slayer defeated the god with an ordinary sword and an inane quip, and the battle bizzarely transformed into Anya's wedding.
"No! A double wedding! Because Willow and Tara used their magic to make it so gay people could get married. And Willow said she liked using her magic for good like that, so she promised that she would only ever use her magic for good. And Tara said, "I love you Willow," and Willow said, "I love you too." And Giles said that he was very proud of all of them and that he would never leave them, but that he would give Anya his shop anyways. And everyone told Dawn that they loved her, and Dawn said, "I know. I am secure in my self-image and not a klepto." And Spike said, "I am going to be a good vampire-"
Illyria was startled at the mention of a familiar name, and Anya's attempt at an accent like her pet's, and interrupted. "You know a vampire named Spike?"
"Yeah."
"I know this Spike."
Anya waved her hand dismissively. "I bet every third vampire thinks, 'ooh Spike's a cool name, I'm going to call myself Spike now!'" Anya took a sip of whiskey. "Anyways...
"Spike said, 'I am going to be a good vampire. I love you Buffy, but not in a creepy way.' And Buffy said, 'Okay! I am alive, and happy that I'm alive!' and her mom said, 'Me too!' And Xander..." Anya fished the whiskey in her glass "Xander said that he loved Anya and that he would never leave her. And Anya loved them all. The end."
"I liked that story, Anya," Castiel said, "That was a good story."
Illyria realized that his earnestness came from intoxication, but she was still incredulous at the pronouncement. "But there was little plot and Glorificus was defeated far too easily."
Castiel grumbled something.
Anya turned to her. "Do you have any stories, Illyria?" She had the sense that the friendliness in the vengeance demon's voice was forced
"Happy," Castiel qualified.
"Yes, it has to be a happy story," Anya agreed.
That was easy enough. "I was a god-"
"Not about how your joy was the ecstasy of your subjects."
Illyria gave Castiel a withering glare for daring to interrupt her, but he seemed impervious. She considered. Her time in the human world had been defined by sadness. She reflected on the stories Anya and Castiel told, especially the differences in the angel's story and it's inconsistencies. Things going right where they had been wrong before. She realized that, like pointing out the errors in one's thinking, that this was another form of comfort. Illyria wondered if it was effective. She began.
"My Qwa'ha Xahn was dying, and I saved him. I ripped the human soul out of my being, and gave her back to him. Then he said he would stay with me."
Castiel blinked and his eyes focused on Illyria, as though he just realized now the implications of Illyria's human shell.
"The haze of grief lifted from the human's friends when they realized what had happened, and they praised the day that the great Illyria came into their lives. My Qwa'ha Xahn taught me to walk in the world, and he loved me. Spike was a good pet, we frequently sparred without interruption-"
Illyria took the opportunity to glare significantly at Anya.
"- and he loved me. And their leader won all his battles easily, and with no loss of life. And he loved me as well. They all did."
Castiel and Anya stared blankly at Illyria.
"The end."
Her audience still didn't react, and Illyria felt no comfort. Perhaps she had done something wrong.
"Was I supposed to refer to myself in the third person?"
"No, it was a good..." Anya reached across the table and clapped a hand on Illyria's knee. "... good try." She gave her an encouraging pat. "And that's what matters."
"Very enlightening," Castiel commented, his voice heavy with significance and drunkeness.
Illyria was about to demand to know what he was implying, when Anya poured a drink and slid it across the table to her. A peace offering.
She raised the glass to her face and sniffed it. "This is foul poison."
"Gets the job done, though," said Castiel.
Illyria felt she had enough of these two. They had been angry at her for reasons she did not understand, and though they were flawed, pathetic beings, they still dared to patronize and mock her.
"You drink to forget, yet your end draws inexorably nearer," Illyria said, reminding them that though they were all in the same situation, she was the only one brave enough to face her impending fate with her faculties intact.
Castiel rolled his eyes at her. "You breed with the mouth of a goat." He kept a straight face for about two seconds, and then broke down giggling.
Anya stared at him, then snorted and laughed.
Chapter 6
Previously: Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
Castiel lay on his back, missing people, as he tried to make out the peak of the ceiling of Illyria's temple . Illyria had discovered the television set, and was watching show about doctors, thankfully leaving Castiel to try to ignore her oppressive presence as much as was possible in a tiny room that was half-filled with a statue of her.
Castiel tried to escape to his memories from the millions of years when things were simple. But of the brothers and sisters he shared those times with, most were gone, and too many by his own hand. Anna, Balthazar, Rachel, even Uriel - he missed them all. And he missed the sense of certainty and purpose that they shared. Part of him felt like that had been robbed from them, but of course he knew now that the certainty had always been a lie. There was no comfort in those memories.
So Castiel's thoughts returned to Dean, as they always did. Dean was the switch that turned something on in Castiel, that challenged him to see and think differently, and awoke emotions that he never knew he could feel. Cas missed the trust that they shared, so different from that between him and his siblings, because it was so hard earned. And easily lost. He missed the way Dean spoke with his soul through his eyes, so that when he met his gaze everything inside Dean was as visible as when Castiel first found his soul in Hell. And Cas missed Sam, poor Sam, trying so hard to do the right thing, and always falling prey to the worst evils along the way. Including me. He missed fighting alongside the brothers, the comraderie, the sense of purpose that was different because it was a purpose that Cas had discovered for himself.
Castiel wished that he had been able to find Dean without the Apocalypse hovering over them, that they had been able to share some genuine happiness. As it was, even his best memories were tinged with darkness. Castiel knew he had to enjoy them while he could. In Hell, the memories would be ripped from him, melted down and reforged into weapons of torture.
"This drama is very instructive about the workings of human relationships," came Illyria's voice from the foot of the bed. "I wish I had discovered it when it would have been of more use to me."
Castiel said nothing. He thought of Dean's eyes again. Crowley could go hang himself.
He heard the television being shut off. Illyria entered his line of sight, standing over him. "It illustrated how love interfered in the lives and work of human healers."
Thinking of Dean was painful, but Castiel couldn't bring himself to push the man from his mind. Dean changed him. He was the fissure in Castiel's grace. And whether Cas had acted to protect him or impress him, he couldn't honestly say, but everything was because of him.
"Love is a weakness," Castiel said, understanding what Illyria was getting at.
"Do you agree now?"
Castiel shrugged. He really didn't know anymore.
Something seemed to catch Illyria's attention, and she walked around to the other side of the bed.
Illyria had a way of driving Castiel's thoughts to the most painful and troubling conclusions, then coralling them there. He found himself missing Anya. She could be grating and invasive, but there was a brightness to her personality that Castiel appreciated. He wished for her company.
Castiel heard the clinking of coins. Then the bed started vibrating, and Illyria lay down next to him. Castiel couldn't be bothered to move.
After a minute, Illyria spoke. "I fail to understand how magic is involved in this device."
"There isn't any," Castiel explained with disinterest. "It's an idiom."
"Then how are fingers incorperated?"
"They aren't."
There was silence, except for the hum of the vibrating bed, as lllyria absorbed this information.
"The name of the device is a lie," Illyria commented indignantly.
"So it would seem."
The bed hummed and vibrated on.
"It provides a pleasant sensation nonetheless."
Castiel didn't reply.
In his peripheral vision, he saw the walls of the room expanding outward. He got off the bed as Illyria did the same.
Death had returned with Anya, who wore a resigned expression on her tear-stained face.
"The Powers That Be will take a few hours to deliberate," Death told them. "You will be informed of their decisions in due time." Before anyone could ask for more information, he vanished.
Anya walked wearily over to the round table that had rematerialized when her shop had been added back to the environment of the holding cell, and slumped into a chair. An anemic-looking houseplant on the table top caught her attention.
"Who put that there?" Her voice was light and tired-sounding.
"It's Castiel's," Illyria said. "Talking to it made me happy, so I made it stay."
Castiel noticed that, unlike the previous times when the three of them had been in the holding cell together, there were fewer pillars and his motel bed and TV set remained. Those must have made Illyria happy too.
Anya nodded weakly. She looked as wilted as the plant.
It surprised Castiel to see her this way. He had expected at least one of them to be granted entry into Heaven, and Anya seemed the most likely of the three. He went to the table and sat next to her.
"What happened?" he asked softly.
Anya shrugged and shook he head. "I really don't know." Anya made a poor attempt at a smile, before biting her lip and blinking back tears.
Illyria stood next to Anya, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
***
Anya told Castiel and Illyria about her trial.
"Your distress is unwarranted," Illyria said as soon as she was finished. "If none of the Powers are agreed on your fate it may yet be better than Castiel's or mine." Anya's eyebrows arched in surprise. "You should be comforted," Illyria added.
Anya turned to the angel. "What'd they say to you?"
Castiel's eyes roamed the room, looking anywhere except the source of the question. Illyria noticed that he did this whenever he didn't want to talk about something. "Crowley and Eve agreed that I should be in Hell," he muttered.
"Oh, Cas..."
"But Illyria has a point." He looked Anya in the eye. "They haven't decided on you yet. And you bravely made the right choices. My father will surely argue that you have a place in heaven."
Illyria wondered at Castiel's pronouncement on the intentions of his father, it went against all she knew and observed about the new god.
"Why do you say that?" she asked.
Castiel turned to face Illyria, brow furrowed in confusion. "Because it's true," he said plainly.
Illyria tried to read his expression. "Are you lying or deluded?"
Castiel was glaring at her now. "Neither," he said, his voice dropping to a growl.
"Why would he care about Anya's fate? Your father is a cold and distant god who allows his children to suffer and die without his intervention or even the blessing of his presence."
Castiel rose to his feet. His face was a foot and a half from hers. "You're wrong about him."
"Uh... guys?" Anya tried to interject.
Illyria ignored her. She was studying the angel's face. His loyalty to his father was what Illyria would have expected from a soldier of one of the Old Ones. But the Old Ones were deserving. Castiel was a warrior of the highest order, everything about his demenor told her this, as well as the fact that Illyria had found some common footing with him. The way that he made himself subserviant to a lesser god, even after that god had cast him to his enemies, repulsed her.
"A true god would not have allowed you to come to this," Illyria said.
"You speak of something which you know nothing about."
Illyria thought she saw the air ripple around Castiel's head and shoulders. She noticed he adjusted his stance, as though readying to throw a punch. Very well. She had craved violence earlier, and now it seemed like her wish would be fulfilled.
"Guys? Could you just... cool down?" Anya said with a note of distress.
Illyria took several steps away from Castiel, but only so she could size him up.
The angel was weaker than Illyria, but experienced, and thanks to their earlier altercation he had a sense of the kind of strength he was up against. He would be wary of making the first move. Illyria tried to circle around him.
"I was a true god. My subjects knew me. They trembled under my wrath and felt ecstasy at my joy."
Castiel tracked Illyria's movements, turning to face her. For the first time since she met him, Illyria saw shadows and light refracted in the air around Castiel. The edges of wings, and the faces of wild beasts next to that of the man.
Illyria felt the thrill of approaching battle rising in her chest. This would be an easy fight, but not unsatisfying.
"You don't deserve oblivion." There was a wild gleam in Castiel's eyes, and his voice reverberated through the stone of Illyria's temple. "You deserve Hell."
"Both of you, stop and breath, okay?" Anya said.
Illyria's lips curled into a smile. Vindictive in victory with more power than he could command. She understood. "You're not speaking to me at all, but to yourself. It's plain on your face."
Anya shouted something about calming down, but neither Castiel nor Illyria paid her any mind as they circled each other.
"Maybe you're just as much a monster as I am," Castiel said, voice full of loathing.
This fight would be better than Illyria first anticipated. Because for the angel, it was deeply personal.
Illyria stopped pacing and faced her opponent full-on, deliberately openning herself up to attack.
"You wish to fight me, Angel of the Lord?"
Castiel lowered his head, and took a defensive stance. He wasn't taking her bait.
"Angel of the weak and careless god?"
Castiel came at Illyria swinging. She dodged easily, caught him in the jaw with one blow and knocked him down with another.
Castiel rolled when he hit the ground, and he was back on his feet and coming at Illyria again sooner than she expected. He ducked her next swing, and landed a fist in Illyria's solar plexus.
A worthy opponent after all.
A smile spread across Illyria's face.
***
Lunatics. I'm stuck in the waiting room to the afterlife with lunatics, Anya thought, watching the fight play out.
Illyria was clearly superior in strength and skill, and Anya winced, seeing her punch Castiel in the gut and the kick him in the head. Cas had endurance, though, rebounding quickly and unexpected sending Illyria flying into the wall.
"Okay, great, now that's out of your system-" Anya tried, but Illyria was alread back on her feet, and circling Cas again.
"Can't you two just hug it out?"
Apparently not, because another storm of feet and fists erupted between the angel and the god-king. This one ended with Illyria knocking Cas through one of the pillars, and a chunk of it landing on top of him.
"Ouch," Anya said.
She was thinking, Well, at least it's over, when Castiel rose from the rubble, shakey but raising his fists, fixing Illyria with a determined glare.
"Okay, that's enough!" Anya shouted, striding over and inserting herself between the combatants. "STOP! Just stop it!"
Illyria gave Anya a murderous look, and Anya almost bolted before she remembered that she couldn't be killed again.
"What are you two doing?"
She turned to Cas. His gaze was unfocused and he was swaying on his feet. There was blood all over his face and jacket.
"You're going to Hell. You don't think you're going to be punished enough there?"
Castiel blinked and looked like he was trying to figure out which of the three Anyas he was seeing was the real one.
She turned back to Illyria. "And you! You're going to stop existing in a few hours and you're picking fights?"
"I take great pleasure in combat," Illyria said.
"Okay," Anya searched for a response. "Well... I don't want to spend my last few hours before going god-knows-where watching the two of you spray each other's blood all over my fake store!"
Castiel said nothing, staring at the floor in way that could be interpreted as either ashamed or concussed.
Illyria was unfazed. She looked past Anya to her opponent. "Shall we continue?"
Anya just huffed and shook her head. She decided to see if the fake store had any of fake Giles' whiskey hidden under the fake counter.
As she was digging around under the counter, Anya felt tears welling up in her eyes. Crowley convinced Eve that she was his, she was certain. She only had a few hours left to enjoy anything at all, and they were going to be miserable. She stopped and closed her eyes. We won, Anya told herself, repeating it over and over. Her friends were successful, the world was safe, her death meant something. We won.
She found the bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass. When she straightened up, Cas was there. The surprise made Anya jump and shout something incoherent.
Castiel was no longer bloodied, and had a puppy-dog look on his face. "I'm sorry for upsetting you."
He seemed sincere. And the puppy-dog face was appealing. But Anya couldn't get over the way Cas had kept throwing himself at Illyria's fists, especially when she put it together with what the god-king told him before they started going at it. You're not speaking to me at all, but to yourself.
Anya shook her head. "You have issues," she told him.
Cas shrugged in acknowledgement.
Still, better to spend her time with some head-case angel than alone.
"Apology accepted," Anya said, pouring herself a drink. "You want some?"
Cas answered with a weary, "Very much so."
Anya poured a glass for Castiel. He knocked it back immediately and indicated that he'd like some more. When he did the same thing again, Anya just passed him the bottle. "I don't think it's gonna get any emptier," she said. She noticed that the pillar Castiel had flown through just a few minutes ago had repaired itself.
Anya heard Illyria turn on the Magic Fingers, as she watched Cas down the bottle like a hobo with something to forget. Yeah, he definitely has issues.
***
Illyria seemed content to lie on the vibrating bed watching whatever was on TV, which was fine with Castiel because it made it easy for him and Anya to avoid her. The two of them sat at the table with the small house plant, drinking from a bottomless bottle of whiskey. Castiel felt the start of a nice happy buzz, and the comforting numbness of alcohol spreading through his system made it easy to push away thoughts of Heaven and Hell.
"You never told me about your prostitute friends," Anya said.
Cas looked at her askance. Then he remembered. "No," he smiled. "My friends are hunters."
Anya scrunched up her nose. "They stay in crummy motels and shoot animals in the woods?"
"They hunt monsters."
"Oh, like the Scoobies!"
"Who?"
"My friends."
It seemed ages since Anya had told Castiel her life story, before both their trials. But he remembered. "Yes! But that's all they do. None of your jobs or school or settling down. It's a way of life."
"Do they get paid?" Anya asked with great interest.
"No."
Anya rolled her eyes, and finished her glass of whiskey. "Of course not."
She set her glass on the table, and Castiel filled it up again, then took a hearty swig from the bottle himself. As long as he didn't think too hard about what was happening, Castiel could imagine that he was just having a good time, sharing friendly conversation with an aimiable vengeance demon.
"So motels make you happy?"
"Yes," Castiel said firmly.
"What else makes you happy, Cas?" Anya's speech was starting to slur.
Castiel recalled how he felt when he first returned to Heaven after the Apocalypse was averted. "Saving the world."
Anya looked profoundly unimpressed. "Well, obviously, Captain Obvious. I mean things like... closing out the cash register and counting your money, or ice cream, or winning the Game of Life."
"Oh..." Castiel thought he knew what she was getting at. Things that were specific to him. "Seeing my friend smile?" he tried.
"Yes, like that."
"Sunny Tuesdays in the park."
"Good!" Anya said encouragingly.
"Um... this makes me happy," he lifted the bottle of whiskey.
Anya laughed. "Clearly."
"And..." He seemed to be running out of answers. "I'm happy that there is someone brave and good and friendly here for me to spend my time with."
"Oh, Cas..." Anya gave him a watery smile, pressing one hand to her chest, and putting the other on his knee, as a friendly gesture. It felt nice. "I'm glad you're here too. I mean, I'm not glad that you're dead, or-"
"I know what you mean," Cas said reassuringly.
"Now I'm getting weepy. And anxious. The whiskey was supposed to stop that!"
There were indeed tears in Anya's eyes, and her brow crinkled with worry. It made Castiel feel sorry he had said anything at all.
"We need to talk about something else," she said with urgency.
Castiel was wary of hitting on the wrong subject again. "What should we talk about?" he asked seriously.
"I don't know. Tell me a story."
"What kind of story?"
"Just make it a happy one."
***
Illyria was disappointed in her companions. She had begun to feel some kinship with them, only to discover that they were beneath her after all. Castiel's lack of pride was perplexing and repellant, as was Anya's aversion to violence. Illyria reminded herself that mighty rulers ruled alone. But, now she was dead, and ruled over nothing.
She flipped through the television channels. Nothing good was on.
The "magic fingers" device stopped shaking the bed, allowing Illyria to better hear the conversation that Castiel and Anya were having several feet away. He was relating his story about the two brothers, but it was different from the one he told Illyria. Everyone was more noble and made better decisions, and in this version, the brothers had an angel friend.
Curious, Illyria turned off the TV, and joined Castiel and Anya. Anya nodded in acknowledgement as Illyria sat cross-legged on the table top. Castiel glanced at her uneasily, then continued with his story.
"Sam toppled over the ledge with Micheal in his arms."
"Oh no!" Anya cried, and her distress was genuine. "You said this was a happy story!"
"I'm not finished! Dean dove forward and grabbed Sam's hand, and Sam held on Adam. So it was only Lucifer and Micheal who fell into the Cage."
This was definitely not what happened, according to Castiel's earlier telling. And it was inconsistent with his explanation of how angelic vessels worked. But he continued on with his tale before Illyria could question these developments, and she was curious as to how it would turn out.
"Dean held tightly onto Sam, and kept him from falling, but he wasn't strong enough to pull him up. Then Bobby woke up, and he saw Dean trying to save his brother, so he went and helped. But they were both tired and didn't have the strength to lift Sam and Adam over the edge."
Anya nodded excitedly, listening with rapt attention.
"Then, their angel friend came back from where Lucifer had sent him, and he saw what trouble they were in. So he grabbed on to Sam, and raised him... no, wait... they all saved Sam and Adam together."
Illyria realized that Castiel was changing actual events to achieve some sort of effect, though she didn't know to what end.
"And they stood in the field, happy that everyone was alive and that the world was saved."
Anya smiled tearily. Illyria expected the story to end there, but it didn't.
Castiel continued, "Sam and Dean embraced, and said they loved each other, and that each was the best brother that anyone could wish for. They hugged Bobby, and told him, 'Bobby, you are like a father to us, and we love you.' And Bobby said, 'I love you idjits like my sons.'" He affected an accent and gruff demeanor for Bobby's voice.
"Then Sam and Dean remembered that Adam was alone. So they embraced him as well, and said, 'Adam, you are our little brother. We want you to make your home with us.' And Adam said he would. And the four of them decided that they would get a big house with Jo and Ellen where they could all live, and be happy, and hunt monsters as a family."
Illyria wondered what the point of this denument was. It was lengthy and added nothing to the plot. Anya seemed to be enjoying, though.
"Then Sam and Dean remembered their angel friend. They thanked him for his help, and Dean asked him to stay. The angel said, 'I'm sorry, but there is work for me in Heaven.' The brothers understood, but they made the angel promise to join them for dinner every Sunday.
"So the angel returned to Heaven, where he fixed everything that was wrong. And he kept his promise to the brothers. The end."
"It was a beautiful story, Cas," Anya said, wiping tears from her eyes. "These are happy tears."
Illyria considered questioning Castiel about the story. However, he and Anya were more or less ignoring Illyria's presence, and she sensed that they were still angry with her, however unjustly, for her earlier fight with Castiel. She decided to remain aloof.
"I wish I hadn't told you all my stories now," Anya was saying to the angel.
"You can tell me one of them again."
"A happy one, right?"
Anya thought for a moment, then began telling a story about a Vampire Slayer and her friends' fight against Glorificus. Illyria listened intently, for Glorificus was famed for her cruelty and insanity. She was disappointed when the Slayer defeated the god with an ordinary sword and an inane quip, and the battle bizzarely transformed into Anya's wedding.
"No! A double wedding! Because Willow and Tara used their magic to make it so gay people could get married. And Willow said she liked using her magic for good like that, so she promised that she would only ever use her magic for good. And Tara said, "I love you Willow," and Willow said, "I love you too." And Giles said that he was very proud of all of them and that he would never leave them, but that he would give Anya his shop anyways. And everyone told Dawn that they loved her, and Dawn said, "I know. I am secure in my self-image and not a klepto." And Spike said, "I am going to be a good vampire-"
Illyria was startled at the mention of a familiar name, and Anya's attempt at an accent like her pet's, and interrupted. "You know a vampire named Spike?"
"Yeah."
"I know this Spike."
Anya waved her hand dismissively. "I bet every third vampire thinks, 'ooh Spike's a cool name, I'm going to call myself Spike now!'" Anya took a sip of whiskey. "Anyways...
"Spike said, 'I am going to be a good vampire. I love you Buffy, but not in a creepy way.' And Buffy said, 'Okay! I am alive, and happy that I'm alive!' and her mom said, 'Me too!' And Xander..." Anya fished the whiskey in her glass "Xander said that he loved Anya and that he would never leave her. And Anya loved them all. The end."
"I liked that story, Anya," Castiel said, "That was a good story."
Illyria realized that his earnestness came from intoxication, but she was still incredulous at the pronouncement. "But there was little plot and Glorificus was defeated far too easily."
Castiel grumbled something.
Anya turned to her. "Do you have any stories, Illyria?" She had the sense that the friendliness in the vengeance demon's voice was forced
"Happy," Castiel qualified.
"Yes, it has to be a happy story," Anya agreed.
That was easy enough. "I was a god-"
"Not about how your joy was the ecstasy of your subjects."
Illyria gave Castiel a withering glare for daring to interrupt her, but he seemed impervious. She considered. Her time in the human world had been defined by sadness. She reflected on the stories Anya and Castiel told, especially the differences in the angel's story and it's inconsistencies. Things going right where they had been wrong before. She realized that, like pointing out the errors in one's thinking, that this was another form of comfort. Illyria wondered if it was effective. She began.
"My Qwa'ha Xahn was dying, and I saved him. I ripped the human soul out of my being, and gave her back to him. Then he said he would stay with me."
Castiel blinked and his eyes focused on Illyria, as though he just realized now the implications of Illyria's human shell.
"The haze of grief lifted from the human's friends when they realized what had happened, and they praised the day that the great Illyria came into their lives. My Qwa'ha Xahn taught me to walk in the world, and he loved me. Spike was a good pet, we frequently sparred without interruption-"
Illyria took the opportunity to glare significantly at Anya.
"- and he loved me. And their leader won all his battles easily, and with no loss of life. And he loved me as well. They all did."
Castiel and Anya stared blankly at Illyria.
"The end."
Her audience still didn't react, and Illyria felt no comfort. Perhaps she had done something wrong.
"Was I supposed to refer to myself in the third person?"
"No, it was a good..." Anya reached across the table and clapped a hand on Illyria's knee. "... good try." She gave her an encouraging pat. "And that's what matters."
"Very enlightening," Castiel commented, his voice heavy with significance and drunkeness.
Illyria was about to demand to know what he was implying, when Anya poured a drink and slid it across the table to her. A peace offering.
She raised the glass to her face and sniffed it. "This is foul poison."
"Gets the job done, though," said Castiel.
Illyria felt she had enough of these two. They had been angry at her for reasons she did not understand, and though they were flawed, pathetic beings, they still dared to patronize and mock her.
"You drink to forget, yet your end draws inexorably nearer," Illyria said, reminding them that though they were all in the same situation, she was the only one brave enough to face her impending fate with her faculties intact.
Castiel rolled his eyes at her. "You breed with the mouth of a goat." He kept a straight face for about two seconds, and then broke down giggling.
Anya stared at him, then snorted and laughed.
Chapter 6