Fic: Disappeared in its Depths (Supernatural, Castiel and Jimmy)
Title: Disappeared in its Depths
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Castiel, Jimmy Novak. Slashy gen.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1209
Spoilers: Up to and including 7x02
Summary: Wearing a vessel as God had involved more than owning a body, and there had always been multiple occupants.
Author's Notes: With thanks to fahrenheit_f430 for betaing and fixing the longest run-on sentence of 2011. <3!
Castiel had never meant to play God. He had meant to be God.
He harboured no illusions that using the power of purgatory to create a world inside their vessel for Jimmy would make amends for what he had already let the human endure, but protecting him from further harm felt like the act of a benevolent lord.
Jimmy had forgiven him quickly for the earlier pain, but refused to trust him. It made sense that he wouldn't - as much as they listened to one another, they rarely acted on what they heard. Jimmy was a voice of human conscience Castiel kept disregarding, and Castiel the voice of divine wisdom Jimmy kept ignoring.
Despite everything, Jimmy had been a comfort to Castiel whether he deserved it or not. Jimmy had been there after Heaven punished him, and Jimmy had been there after he punished Heaven.
Jimmy was the only person who knew that Castiel had mourned both of Balthazar's deaths.
Leviathan's strength was unbearable, but while it had been made by God, it was not holy; there were still paths it could not follow and dimensions it could not endure. Condensing forty miles and flexible time into a pinprick of flesh had been a simple enough matter before he had returned his powers where they belonged.
Torn and shredded by the battle with Leviathan but far from dead, Castiel had found his way inside the bubble he had created for Jimmy and collapsed on the tarmac outside his house, wondered if he should be thankful for surviving. He had been born a soldier and knew the value of retreat but that did not take away the shame of it, and his loss of consciousness came uneasily.
When Castiel woke it was cool, dark, and soft. A bed in a house modelled after Bobby Singer's, but different in content. Slate grey walls and dark brown carpets were masked by books, scrolls, tapestries and tablets; Castiel had been an avid reader for a long time, and while he could not help Jimmy escape their vessel, he could offer this metaphorical escapism at least.
Jimmy sat opposite him, thumbing slowly through a copy of Moby Dick.
Silence reigned over the before tumultuous but now deserted deck. An intense copper calm, like a universal yellow lotus, was more and more unfolding its noiseless measureless leaves upon the sea.
"You're awake," Jimmy said, setting the book down for a moment.
"Yes."
"What happened to the sky?" Castiel looked outside and saw the squeeze of Leviathan's black-veined, purple-bruised flesh above their world. "Are we safe?"
"Yes."
"And Amelia? Claire, is she -"
"They're fine."
Jimmy stilled, spoke quietly. "You don't know what's happened to them, do you?"
Castiel wanted to apologise for the lie, knew he had answered too quickly, but Jimmy only frowned once, briefly, to end the conversation before picking the book back up.
A short space elapsed, and up into this noiselessness came Ahab alone from his cabin.
Hell - the original Hell, not Crowley's - had taught Castiel many a lesson in guerrilla warfare, darting into the smallest cracks in Leviathan's defences and retreating before it could turn its full strength against him. Even so, he was one soldier against a legion of more experienced warriors, and it was easy to overstretch himself.
Each time he crawled back to Jimmy's world, and each time Jimmy waited for him, picked up his unconscious shreds and pulled him inside to rest.
He had not intended to make himself a burden beyond that first time on Jimmy's doorstep, tried to find his rest elsewhere in the miles he had crafted, but Jimmy always managed to find him.
In the end, it was easier to make his own way to Jimmy's bed, regardless of whether Jimmy was in it at the time. There were never any protests. Jimmy had never asked for much.
Time stood almost still inside their bubble of safety for now, but each time Castiel emerged to fight he could see the changing world outside. Leviathan's mass was no longer so tightly squeezed into their vessel that it was leaking out, but the parts of Leviathan that remained were older, wiser, and far more vicious than its initial chaotic whole had been.
Solidifying his form was a difficulty not worth the effort when he returned from battle, but his shifting skin seemed to amuse Jimmy despite everything; Jimmy made a point of occasionally touching him on the wrist or the shoulder to see what would happen.
"You're Dean, now?" Jimmy asked after pressing two fingers to Castiel's forehead.
"This was the first face that came to mind."
Jimmy pulled his hand away, stretched out next to Castiel on the bed and joined him in looking out at the sky. With much of its excess mass gone, there was more of a pulse than a strain in how Leviathan's flesh pressed against the dome, and it was somewhat hypnotic to watch. "How long will we be safe?"
Castiel shrugged, letting the edges of Dean's form blur back into his own. "They won't find you here. This is too small."
"And you?"
"I'm fighting for your eyes." Castiel gestured at Jimmy, frowned when Jimmy caught his hand by the wrist and it took on Sam's shape. "Your real eyes. Not these."
"I guessed," Jimmy said, rolling onto his side and bringing their hands to rest on Castiel's chest. "I wish I could help."
Castiel watched an electric blue pulse shoot along one of Leviathan's exposed nerves, thought about the fight waiting for him when he next emerged from their safety. "I'm glad you can't."
Jimmy stroked his thumb across Castiel's wrist, idly affectionate. "You could stay here."
Castiel would have corrected him with an example, but everything that came to mind had been a failure. The righteous man had broken in Hell; Sam Winchester had slain Lilith; Raphael's death had been accompanied by Leviathan coming forth. He had always been too late or too weak.
He couldn't let that be his legacy.
"I have to redeem myself," Castiel replied, wondering why honesty did not make the words come any easier. "I promised I would."
Jimmy's gaze softened, his eyes older and wiser than any human's ought to be. "You're still a Winchester."
Castiel wanted to ask for forgiveness, even though he already knew Jimmy would grant it as he always did. Castiel, if anything, should have been a Novak. His fears and cares for humanity should have focused on Claire and Amelia.
But they hadn't.
"It's okay. As long as you don't forget I'm here," Jimmy said, curling into Castiel's side and closing his eyes.
"I won't this time," Castiel replied, closing his own eyes and waiting for Jimmy to fall asleep before reopening them, watching the human find peace in dreaming, and wondering if he would forgive one last transgression.
Creating the bubble with purgatory's powers had been easy. Destroying it without them was impossible.
Once he had set things right on Earth, he would fix his last mistake with a sacrifice fitting for what he had done to Jimmy. He couldn't break Jimmy out, but he could close his own exit.
He hoped Jimmy would prefer eternity with company.
The End
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Castiel, Jimmy Novak. Slashy gen.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1209
Spoilers: Up to and including 7x02
Summary: Wearing a vessel as God had involved more than owning a body, and there had always been multiple occupants.
Author's Notes: With thanks to fahrenheit_f430 for betaing and fixing the longest run-on sentence of 2011. <3!
Castiel had never meant to play God. He had meant to be God.
He harboured no illusions that using the power of purgatory to create a world inside their vessel for Jimmy would make amends for what he had already let the human endure, but protecting him from further harm felt like the act of a benevolent lord.
Jimmy had forgiven him quickly for the earlier pain, but refused to trust him. It made sense that he wouldn't - as much as they listened to one another, they rarely acted on what they heard. Jimmy was a voice of human conscience Castiel kept disregarding, and Castiel the voice of divine wisdom Jimmy kept ignoring.
Despite everything, Jimmy had been a comfort to Castiel whether he deserved it or not. Jimmy had been there after Heaven punished him, and Jimmy had been there after he punished Heaven.
Jimmy was the only person who knew that Castiel had mourned both of Balthazar's deaths.
Leviathan's strength was unbearable, but while it had been made by God, it was not holy; there were still paths it could not follow and dimensions it could not endure. Condensing forty miles and flexible time into a pinprick of flesh had been a simple enough matter before he had returned his powers where they belonged.
Torn and shredded by the battle with Leviathan but far from dead, Castiel had found his way inside the bubble he had created for Jimmy and collapsed on the tarmac outside his house, wondered if he should be thankful for surviving. He had been born a soldier and knew the value of retreat but that did not take away the shame of it, and his loss of consciousness came uneasily.
When Castiel woke it was cool, dark, and soft. A bed in a house modelled after Bobby Singer's, but different in content. Slate grey walls and dark brown carpets were masked by books, scrolls, tapestries and tablets; Castiel had been an avid reader for a long time, and while he could not help Jimmy escape their vessel, he could offer this metaphorical escapism at least.
Jimmy sat opposite him, thumbing slowly through a copy of Moby Dick.
Silence reigned over the before tumultuous but now deserted deck. An intense copper calm, like a universal yellow lotus, was more and more unfolding its noiseless measureless leaves upon the sea.
"You're awake," Jimmy said, setting the book down for a moment.
"Yes."
"What happened to the sky?" Castiel looked outside and saw the squeeze of Leviathan's black-veined, purple-bruised flesh above their world. "Are we safe?"
"Yes."
"And Amelia? Claire, is she -"
"They're fine."
Jimmy stilled, spoke quietly. "You don't know what's happened to them, do you?"
Castiel wanted to apologise for the lie, knew he had answered too quickly, but Jimmy only frowned once, briefly, to end the conversation before picking the book back up.
A short space elapsed, and up into this noiselessness came Ahab alone from his cabin.
Hell - the original Hell, not Crowley's - had taught Castiel many a lesson in guerrilla warfare, darting into the smallest cracks in Leviathan's defences and retreating before it could turn its full strength against him. Even so, he was one soldier against a legion of more experienced warriors, and it was easy to overstretch himself.
Each time he crawled back to Jimmy's world, and each time Jimmy waited for him, picked up his unconscious shreds and pulled him inside to rest.
He had not intended to make himself a burden beyond that first time on Jimmy's doorstep, tried to find his rest elsewhere in the miles he had crafted, but Jimmy always managed to find him.
In the end, it was easier to make his own way to Jimmy's bed, regardless of whether Jimmy was in it at the time. There were never any protests. Jimmy had never asked for much.
Time stood almost still inside their bubble of safety for now, but each time Castiel emerged to fight he could see the changing world outside. Leviathan's mass was no longer so tightly squeezed into their vessel that it was leaking out, but the parts of Leviathan that remained were older, wiser, and far more vicious than its initial chaotic whole had been.
Solidifying his form was a difficulty not worth the effort when he returned from battle, but his shifting skin seemed to amuse Jimmy despite everything; Jimmy made a point of occasionally touching him on the wrist or the shoulder to see what would happen.
"You're Dean, now?" Jimmy asked after pressing two fingers to Castiel's forehead.
"This was the first face that came to mind."
Jimmy pulled his hand away, stretched out next to Castiel on the bed and joined him in looking out at the sky. With much of its excess mass gone, there was more of a pulse than a strain in how Leviathan's flesh pressed against the dome, and it was somewhat hypnotic to watch. "How long will we be safe?"
Castiel shrugged, letting the edges of Dean's form blur back into his own. "They won't find you here. This is too small."
"And you?"
"I'm fighting for your eyes." Castiel gestured at Jimmy, frowned when Jimmy caught his hand by the wrist and it took on Sam's shape. "Your real eyes. Not these."
"I guessed," Jimmy said, rolling onto his side and bringing their hands to rest on Castiel's chest. "I wish I could help."
Castiel watched an electric blue pulse shoot along one of Leviathan's exposed nerves, thought about the fight waiting for him when he next emerged from their safety. "I'm glad you can't."
Jimmy stroked his thumb across Castiel's wrist, idly affectionate. "You could stay here."
Castiel would have corrected him with an example, but everything that came to mind had been a failure. The righteous man had broken in Hell; Sam Winchester had slain Lilith; Raphael's death had been accompanied by Leviathan coming forth. He had always been too late or too weak.
He couldn't let that be his legacy.
"I have to redeem myself," Castiel replied, wondering why honesty did not make the words come any easier. "I promised I would."
Jimmy's gaze softened, his eyes older and wiser than any human's ought to be. "You're still a Winchester."
Castiel wanted to ask for forgiveness, even though he already knew Jimmy would grant it as he always did. Castiel, if anything, should have been a Novak. His fears and cares for humanity should have focused on Claire and Amelia.
But they hadn't.
"It's okay. As long as you don't forget I'm here," Jimmy said, curling into Castiel's side and closing his eyes.
"I won't this time," Castiel replied, closing his own eyes and waiting for Jimmy to fall asleep before reopening them, watching the human find peace in dreaming, and wondering if he would forgive one last transgression.
Creating the bubble with purgatory's powers had been easy. Destroying it without them was impossible.
Once he had set things right on Earth, he would fix his last mistake with a sacrifice fitting for what he had done to Jimmy. He couldn't break Jimmy out, but he could close his own exit.
He hoped Jimmy would prefer eternity with company.
The End