Fic: Ad Te Omnis Caro Veniet
Guess who actually finished a fic? Me! :) This is the "listening to a Requiem Mass at 2am" one.
Ad Te Omnis Caro Veniet
Rated: PG
Word Count: ~1500
Fandom: Supernatural
Spoilers: specific ones for 5.04, 5.08 and 5.10.
Warnings: major character death, Catholicism and dubious theology.
Summary: Castiel can't do it himself.
It comes to him the night after Ellen and Jo died.
He and Dean are at a bar. Dean is "raising a glass to their memories", though it appears to have more to do with forgetting than remembering -- he drank like this to forget Hell. Castiel doesn't drink; his memory is perfect and alcohol doesn't affect it one way or another. But Bobby insisted that Dean shouldn't be alone and Sam insisted he was busy doing research -- on what, Castiel isn't entirely sure -- so he is here, sitting on a barstool next to Dean.
"Where'd they go, Cas?" Dean says toward the end of the night, furiously angry for no reason Castiel can see. "Tell me. Are they up there with your dick brothers? Did they get kicked downstairs for not being self-righteous enough? Or are they just--"
Dean puts a hand over his face. Castiel, at a loss for the answer Dean wants, says, "I don't know."
But then suddenly, he does.
~~~~~~
"I need your help," he says to Gabriel without preamble.
"Hello to you, too, bro." Gabriel drawls, not looking up from his stack of pancakes. It's five in the afternoon at a diner outside Milwaukee and Gabriel wasn't even trying to hide from him.
"I need your help," he says again. "This is important, Gabriel."
"What? Come to get my assistance in your little Apocalypse? I told you, I'm sitting this one out."
"That's not why I'm here," Castiel sits down beside him, trench coat tucked carefully over his knees. "I need you to take my Grace."
Gabriel chokes on maple syrup.
~~~~~
"Are you sure about this, little bro?" Gabriel says warily. "This is going to hurt like a bitch."
"I'm sure," Castiel replies. He's kneeling in an empty warehouse, eerily similar to the place he found Gabriel the first time. There is no one within a mile to blind or deafen by mistake. His coat is under his knees for padding that he doesn't need yet.
He can't do this himself. If he tears out his own Grace, he'll Fall and be reborn into a human child. But if Gabriel does it, if he's careful and cuts out only what he needs to, Castiel can keep his body -- the long-empty vessel of Jimmy Novak -- like Anna in reverse. He'll be able to return to Sam and Dean, memories intact...at least some of them.
He looks up at Gabriel, who looks uncomfortable and unsure for the first time Castiel can think of.
"This is the only way," Castiel says. And then, "thank you."
Gabriel snorts. "Don't thank me till it's over."
He reaches down a hand to Castiel's forehead, and the world tears apart.
~~~~
He wakes up in pain.
Everything hurts. His human body where it lies on the cold floor -- his knees didn't need padding after all -- and the gaping hole inside him that feels like Gabriel tore out everything good he has ever been or done or seen.
"How're you feeling?" comes an unfamiliar voice.
Cas blinks open his eyes, unsure how to focus at first. Eventually he sees...a man, he finally concludes. This must be what humans look like to each other.
"Take your time," the man says, and Cas realizes with a start that this is Gabriel. Gabriel, archangel, whose light played bright and strong and cheerful throughout Heaven. Whom Castiel didn't see for thousands of years, and whom he will now never see again.
Now Gabriel just looks like meat.
"You look different," Cas says, a new loss growing inside him.
"You, too." Gabriel sighs and touches two fingers to his forehead.
~~~~
Cas now understands why Dean hates that so much.
He drops a fraction of an inch to the carpet, jarring and disorienting, before collapsing the rest of the way to the floor. He hasn't quite got the hang of human locomotion yet.
"What the fuck?" someone says -- Dean, Cas thinks, more from the words than the voice.
"Castiel!" someone else says -- Sam. Cas smiles. Sam is always so concerned for him, while Dean thinks of him as indestructible.
"You okay?" one of them says, hauling him upright. The room swims.
"Wait," Dean, this one is Dean, Cas is getting better at using his own ears, "Something's different."
"Different good or different bad?" Sam says.
"Different," Cas mumbles. "Just different."
Fingers fumble at his throat, peel up an eyelid, stroke down his face. "Holy shit, I think he's human."
"You're taller than I thought you'd be," Cas says, and passes out.
~~~~~
Dean is more freaked out than Cas expected. A year ago, Cas would have looked into his mind to discover the reason. Six months ago, he would have watched his soul from the outside, less invasive but similarly illuminating. Now he makes an educated guess -- Dean told him very little of the future Zachariah showed him, but Cas knows he Fell, and that it was Bad.
"That's not gonna be me," he reassures Dean, but it only makes it worse.
Amidst the lessons from the two of them in how to be human -- how to eat, how to shower, how to shoot a gun and punch a face -- he manages to sneak away for an afternoon.
He goes to confession.
He doesn't know if anything he's done counts as a mortal sin -- is angelic smiting the same as murder? Do his actions as an angel count against his human soul? -- or if it even matters either way, if his penance even has a purpose, but he only has one life and he can't afford to take any chances.
The priest goes from confused to angry to afraid. Cas tells him everything, everything from Creation to the War to the Apocalypse to the warehouse. He confesses everything he can think of that might be a sin, mortal or venial. After his act of contrition he leaves quickly, in case the priest calls the police. Or an insane asylum. Now that Cas can only see with human eyes, he's starting to understand why humans have such a hard time with faith; so much of the world is invisible to them.
Dean complains that Cas is even more of a stick-in-the-mud now than he was as an angel, though he sounds more relieved than annoyed.
Cas doesn't explain that he can't afford to have any sins hanging over his head. Even the smallest might earn him Purgatory, and after all this he's unwilling to tolerate delays.
~~~~
Of course, that means he can't do it himself.
And he can't ask anyone else (not that he would, since that would condemn them as well.) He can't stop eating and fade away. And he can't deliberately move a little too slowly on a hunt, bob when he should weave, trip over his feet while running. It has to be natural.
It takes longer than he expects. The Winchesters are good at their job and they both seem to think it's part of that job to keep him safe. He's torn between resentment and gratitude, but he hides it from them well.
And he hadn't considered his own survival instinct. This human life wants to preserve itself and his body often moves before Cas can decide which way to jump. His mind and his body have very different ideas about the purpose of this life.
But it had to happen eventually.
~~~~
In the diner, over pancakes, Gabriel had been skeptical.
"What makes you so sure this will work?"
"It has to," Castiel had said, sure of himself again at last. "Where are all the human souls?"
"Not in Heaven, that's for sure," Gabriel said thoughtfully. "It would probably do Zachariah good to have to deal with a few billion humans underfoot."
"If they're not in Heaven, then they must be with Him. It's the only explanation."
"Or they all go downstairs."
Castiel frowned. "Even children?"
"Especially children," Gabriel grinned his Trickster grin.
But Castiel was still sure.
~~~~
It comes out of nowhere on a Thursday afternoon.
One minute they're walking through a probably-not-haunted house, shotguns ready, Cas thinking idly about what he wants for dinner, the next minute they're being slammed into walls by a very pissed-off poltergeist.
It's sadly familiar, but then the ghost finds the knives and the structural weaknesses in the house and everything goes into a blur of adrenaline and gunpowder.
The next clear thing Cas knows is he's lying on the ground, he can barely move, he can barely breathe, and the world is getting further and further away.
He'd expected it to be a relief, and it is, but it's also painful and disorienting and terrifying. A hand clutches at him, he grabs at it in panic. But it dulls, it fades, it turns into peace, a peace he hasn't felt in so long...
"No, Cas, no, hang on--"
"Good-bye, Dean," he thinks he manages to say, through the blackness in his eyes and the roaring in his ears. "I'm going to find God."
Ad Te Omnis Caro Veniet
Rated: PG
Word Count: ~1500
Fandom: Supernatural
Spoilers: specific ones for 5.04, 5.08 and 5.10.
Warnings: major character death, Catholicism and dubious theology.
Summary: Castiel can't do it himself.
It comes to him the night after Ellen and Jo died.
He and Dean are at a bar. Dean is "raising a glass to their memories", though it appears to have more to do with forgetting than remembering -- he drank like this to forget Hell. Castiel doesn't drink; his memory is perfect and alcohol doesn't affect it one way or another. But Bobby insisted that Dean shouldn't be alone and Sam insisted he was busy doing research -- on what, Castiel isn't entirely sure -- so he is here, sitting on a barstool next to Dean.
"Where'd they go, Cas?" Dean says toward the end of the night, furiously angry for no reason Castiel can see. "Tell me. Are they up there with your dick brothers? Did they get kicked downstairs for not being self-righteous enough? Or are they just--"
Dean puts a hand over his face. Castiel, at a loss for the answer Dean wants, says, "I don't know."
But then suddenly, he does.
~~~~~~
"I need your help," he says to Gabriel without preamble.
"Hello to you, too, bro." Gabriel drawls, not looking up from his stack of pancakes. It's five in the afternoon at a diner outside Milwaukee and Gabriel wasn't even trying to hide from him.
"I need your help," he says again. "This is important, Gabriel."
"What? Come to get my assistance in your little Apocalypse? I told you, I'm sitting this one out."
"That's not why I'm here," Castiel sits down beside him, trench coat tucked carefully over his knees. "I need you to take my Grace."
Gabriel chokes on maple syrup.
~~~~~
"Are you sure about this, little bro?" Gabriel says warily. "This is going to hurt like a bitch."
"I'm sure," Castiel replies. He's kneeling in an empty warehouse, eerily similar to the place he found Gabriel the first time. There is no one within a mile to blind or deafen by mistake. His coat is under his knees for padding that he doesn't need yet.
He can't do this himself. If he tears out his own Grace, he'll Fall and be reborn into a human child. But if Gabriel does it, if he's careful and cuts out only what he needs to, Castiel can keep his body -- the long-empty vessel of Jimmy Novak -- like Anna in reverse. He'll be able to return to Sam and Dean, memories intact...at least some of them.
He looks up at Gabriel, who looks uncomfortable and unsure for the first time Castiel can think of.
"This is the only way," Castiel says. And then, "thank you."
Gabriel snorts. "Don't thank me till it's over."
He reaches down a hand to Castiel's forehead, and the world tears apart.
~~~~
He wakes up in pain.
Everything hurts. His human body where it lies on the cold floor -- his knees didn't need padding after all -- and the gaping hole inside him that feels like Gabriel tore out everything good he has ever been or done or seen.
"How're you feeling?" comes an unfamiliar voice.
Cas blinks open his eyes, unsure how to focus at first. Eventually he sees...a man, he finally concludes. This must be what humans look like to each other.
"Take your time," the man says, and Cas realizes with a start that this is Gabriel. Gabriel, archangel, whose light played bright and strong and cheerful throughout Heaven. Whom Castiel didn't see for thousands of years, and whom he will now never see again.
Now Gabriel just looks like meat.
"You look different," Cas says, a new loss growing inside him.
"You, too." Gabriel sighs and touches two fingers to his forehead.
~~~~
Cas now understands why Dean hates that so much.
He drops a fraction of an inch to the carpet, jarring and disorienting, before collapsing the rest of the way to the floor. He hasn't quite got the hang of human locomotion yet.
"What the fuck?" someone says -- Dean, Cas thinks, more from the words than the voice.
"Castiel!" someone else says -- Sam. Cas smiles. Sam is always so concerned for him, while Dean thinks of him as indestructible.
"You okay?" one of them says, hauling him upright. The room swims.
"Wait," Dean, this one is Dean, Cas is getting better at using his own ears, "Something's different."
"Different good or different bad?" Sam says.
"Different," Cas mumbles. "Just different."
Fingers fumble at his throat, peel up an eyelid, stroke down his face. "Holy shit, I think he's human."
"You're taller than I thought you'd be," Cas says, and passes out.
~~~~~
Dean is more freaked out than Cas expected. A year ago, Cas would have looked into his mind to discover the reason. Six months ago, he would have watched his soul from the outside, less invasive but similarly illuminating. Now he makes an educated guess -- Dean told him very little of the future Zachariah showed him, but Cas knows he Fell, and that it was Bad.
"That's not gonna be me," he reassures Dean, but it only makes it worse.
Amidst the lessons from the two of them in how to be human -- how to eat, how to shower, how to shoot a gun and punch a face -- he manages to sneak away for an afternoon.
He goes to confession.
He doesn't know if anything he's done counts as a mortal sin -- is angelic smiting the same as murder? Do his actions as an angel count against his human soul? -- or if it even matters either way, if his penance even has a purpose, but he only has one life and he can't afford to take any chances.
The priest goes from confused to angry to afraid. Cas tells him everything, everything from Creation to the War to the Apocalypse to the warehouse. He confesses everything he can think of that might be a sin, mortal or venial. After his act of contrition he leaves quickly, in case the priest calls the police. Or an insane asylum. Now that Cas can only see with human eyes, he's starting to understand why humans have such a hard time with faith; so much of the world is invisible to them.
Dean complains that Cas is even more of a stick-in-the-mud now than he was as an angel, though he sounds more relieved than annoyed.
Cas doesn't explain that he can't afford to have any sins hanging over his head. Even the smallest might earn him Purgatory, and after all this he's unwilling to tolerate delays.
~~~~
Of course, that means he can't do it himself.
And he can't ask anyone else (not that he would, since that would condemn them as well.) He can't stop eating and fade away. And he can't deliberately move a little too slowly on a hunt, bob when he should weave, trip over his feet while running. It has to be natural.
It takes longer than he expects. The Winchesters are good at their job and they both seem to think it's part of that job to keep him safe. He's torn between resentment and gratitude, but he hides it from them well.
And he hadn't considered his own survival instinct. This human life wants to preserve itself and his body often moves before Cas can decide which way to jump. His mind and his body have very different ideas about the purpose of this life.
But it had to happen eventually.
~~~~
In the diner, over pancakes, Gabriel had been skeptical.
"What makes you so sure this will work?"
"It has to," Castiel had said, sure of himself again at last. "Where are all the human souls?"
"Not in Heaven, that's for sure," Gabriel said thoughtfully. "It would probably do Zachariah good to have to deal with a few billion humans underfoot."
"If they're not in Heaven, then they must be with Him. It's the only explanation."
"Or they all go downstairs."
Castiel frowned. "Even children?"
"Especially children," Gabriel grinned his Trickster grin.
But Castiel was still sure.
~~~~
It comes out of nowhere on a Thursday afternoon.
One minute they're walking through a probably-not-haunted house, shotguns ready, Cas thinking idly about what he wants for dinner, the next minute they're being slammed into walls by a very pissed-off poltergeist.
It's sadly familiar, but then the ghost finds the knives and the structural weaknesses in the house and everything goes into a blur of adrenaline and gunpowder.
The next clear thing Cas knows is he's lying on the ground, he can barely move, he can barely breathe, and the world is getting further and further away.
He'd expected it to be a relief, and it is, but it's also painful and disorienting and terrifying. A hand clutches at him, he grabs at it in panic. But it dulls, it fades, it turns into peace, a peace he hasn't felt in so long...
"No, Cas, no, hang on--"
"Good-bye, Dean," he thinks he manages to say, through the blackness in his eyes and the roaring in his ears. "I'm going to find God."