Fic: Come Wander With Me (1/2)
Title: Come Wander With Me
Fandom: Supernatural & Heroes
Rating: Light R
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel
Characters: Castiel, Dean, Mohinder Suresh (Heroes)
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Heroes (up to S2), Supernatural (up to 05x04)
Word Count: 19,112 (Total)
Summary: Its 2011 and as the world begins to shatter apart, Castiel wanders through time and space desperately seeking a way put things right. Meanwhile in 2008, alone in a city inhabited by ghosts of his past and the stink of a dying mankind, Mohinder Suresh tries to survive and seek redemption he believes he can no longer find.
Notes: Thanks to amechiro for her wonderful mix.
This was written for the apocabigbang challenge
Fanmix: Come Wander With Me by amechiro ♥
Part One
I
January 2011 - Kerrville, Texas
When it had first begun the entire thing had been simple to ignore. In fact it had felt like dreaming or at least the sensation he associated with that very human act, that along with the occasional hunger and outbursts of irrational behavior had accompanied his descent into this being - neither fully human or the pure creature of light had had once been. The further humanity was dragged into Hell, the closer he came to slipping completely into this new skin; hybrid, freak, a son no longer of God but unable to ever grasp the complexities of humans - even a lifetime of observing could not help solve that problem.
It had just been a dream, "Nothing to worry about" isn’t that what Dean had once said when he had fallen into unconsciousness for the first time and had woken up startled and confused? "It’s all perfectly normal Cas" that had been Sam, sympathetic and supportive, trying harder than his brother who had glanced at Castiel like he was someone else now - something he was afraid to deal with.
Though both Winchesters had simply been reassuring themselves over the intensifying and terrifying loss of their friend’s strength, Castiel decided to find comfort in those words when he had woken suddenly from the dreamscape of a time and place he had never visited and with the cold air from the night still cool on his skin.
Nothing to be concerned about.
Ignoring the troubling truth and bottling up his increasing doubts had been the one thing that had come naturally to him, the one thing the brothers could easily teach him.
++++
The small town was indistinguishable from the hundreds he had traveled through in the past two years - a diner claiming to sell 'the best apple pie in the state', small businesses even bustling or close to collapse, everyday ordinary people taking their place in the routine of life.
He wandered through the streets, it seemed like he was invisible to any of the inhabitants - this was a reoccurring aspect of his dreams which if had had decided to dig further into would no doubt uncover layers of deep rooted anxiety. He preferred not to expose yet more weaknesses, he was failing enough already in the real world.
The heat from the afternoon sun felt unbearable on his skin, the road he walked down for what felt like hours eventually led out of town and now he was on a dusty highway, sticky and achy and nothing, nothing at all was happening in this dream, it was pointless.
He could be awake right now, doing something constructive, finding a way to stop this mess he helped to create and yet his mind insisted on staying in this ridiculous vision that was neither useful or pleasant - he now felt dehydrated and was covered in dust and being attacked by insects.
"Cas?"
Castiel turned around suddenly, eyesight momentarily blinded by the sun and confusion quickly taking over. There was a banging, a loud thud thud thud and Dean was calling his name but Dean wasn’t here, he wasn’t on this never-ending road he wasn’t....
"Cas? Seriously I don’t have time for hide and fucking seek"
Castiel woke with a start, feeling the cool porcelain of a bathtub surrounding him. He blinked - surprised by his location. He had been certain he had been on a bed researching. He remembered how his eyes had felt heavy and despite fighting his body need for sleep had felt them close. He could hear Dean hammering his fists on the bathroom door and lifted himself out of the tub, curiously finding dust on his trousers and wiping his brow to find sweat.
Before Dean overreacted and started kicking the door down he quickly brushed of what he could of the dirt and tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of the heat still clinging to his body - heat that came from a place he had only been dreaming about.
"I am fine Dean" He murmured, regaining his composure before facing his companion.
Dean was there staring doubtfully, frowning as he could see Castiel looking disheveled rather than his usual stern stance "You sure? You look like Hell"
Castiel knew that the constant anxiety and concern that bordered on obsessive at times was just Dean dealing with the distress of losing his brother, the burden of seeing the world slowly crumble - the despair of watching innocent people dying with no way of stopping it. It helped him to focus on the remaining friends he now had left, which is why Castiel walked past him back into the main room of the motel suite, away from the prying eyes of Dean and attempted to change the conversation. He had to play down the uneasiness he felt. Something wasn't right, something had changed but he could not bother his friend with such pointless worries.
"How did your meeting with Bobby's associates go?" he asked, trying to sound casual but knowing he probably still sounded stiff and serious like Dean always used to tease him about - back when enjoying the occasional joke with the brothers was still possible and he guessed qualified as that past-time known as fun.
Dean walked around the side of the bed picking up clothes and stuffing them ungracefully in a holdall. Castiel couldn’t help but watch every little action he took, every opportunity to stare anywhere but at the once powerful Angel stood rigid by the mini-bar Dean had insisted on emptying all by himself the night before. Dean was avoiding the question, something he seemed to do on a regular basis these days, something which both frustrated and troubled Castiel, he knew his companion was struggling to even wake up every morning let alone have to interact with someone who wasn’t his brother yet filled the physical space Sam once had - in the passenger seat of the impala, in the seat opposite him at the countless local diners they had passed through and in the other bed of all the shared motel rooms they had checked in and out of at a disturbingly fast pace.
Eventually after finishing his half-hearted attempts of packing Dean settled in the corner of the room on the worn sofa - as far away from Castiel as physically possible. The growing distance between them is something he couldn’t blame Dean for, his friend clearly petrified of being responsible for more death and loss, he paradoxically showed excessive concern for Castiel whilst pushing away and inhabiting his own world - where guilt and anger ruled and any attempts of talking about the stark reality are discouraged at all costs. In the three months since Castiel has been left with just one Winchester for company he had witnessed the wrath of Dean Winchester and the incredible loneliness. He only wishes he could be of some comfort, he once could read Dean’s soul, know his thoughts and enter his dreams to pacify memories of torture and screaming in an instant - now he can barely form the right words to assure his friend all hope is not lost.
"Its spreading Cas, two more towns in over a week" Dean finally started to speak, his voice so hushed Castiel had to move closer to hear him "Jim and Kyle, Bobby’s old pals they said local authorities are playing it down to be some outbreak of really bad flu and not to worry because its and I quote “under control". How can they say that, they have no idea what they are dealing with!"
The anger flared up again, the pain and frustration bubbling under, Castiel wanted to say "Don’t worry it will be okay Dean" - isn’t that how it’s meant to go? But he knows from experience these words aren’t enough. He began to play awkwardly play with the sleeves of his coat and avoided looking at the remaining dust on his shoes.
The rant that obviously has been building on the ride back from the bar builds further "The police the local hospitals they have no clue Cas, no idea that this isn’t a really bad case of the sniffles its Night of the Living Dead and all they can do is put up some roadblocks and play it down!"
Dean got up from his seat and it’s no surprise to Castiel that he walked over to him, not because he wants to be close but because the mini-fridge calls and Dean finds his prize - one remaining bottle he hadn’t finished from the night before.
Castiel knew if Sam was here he would take the alcohol away and keep Dean focused on what needed to be done. But Castiel isn’t sure he has that power over Dean, the bond the brothers had meant that they could tell each other when enough was enough - Castiel merely watched helplessly as the contents of the bottle empty quicker than he thinks is safe.
"Dean" Castiel tried to warn him, he knows in the past perhaps Dean was a little bit frightened of his strength, terrified the Angels would throw him back in the pit but Castiel doubts that Dean would flinch if Castiel grabbed his arm and threw the bottle against the wall, glass shattering everywhere. Dean would probably ignore it and go out for more.
He is pacing the room now, around the beds into the bathroom and back out mumbling about everything that has happened to them. It pains Castiel to see Dean like this, so lost and devoid of any happiness. Dean finally settles again this time on Castiel’s bed, he is probably too far gone to notice it isn’t his. There’s a long sigh, followed by curse words Castiel wishes he wouldn’t use but understands why he does.
"Do you think he said yes?" The question Castiel has heard too often, mostly when Dean is frustrated and inebriated but sometimes it comes out as a hush before the lights go out at night and Dean doesn’t expect an answer.
It’s the one thing Castiel knows how to answer, can figure out the right response to - it is always "No, no he didn’t and he never will." He never hesitates, never offers a maybe or a who knows? It is because in his heart he still believes Sam Winchester is strong enough to resist the manipulative words of Castiel’s own brother. He knows Sam is fighting for his right of freewill.
Castiel still remembers vividly the night Dean had told him the details of where Zachariah had sent him. It was shortly after Castiel had first begun to sleep and felt pangs of hunger he never realized could be so painful and all consuming. Sam had been stuck at the local library researching like he did every night, hoping to find some clause in Angel mythology they could expose or finding more powerful spells to protect them as they hid from the increasing onslaught of Demon bounty hunters, all intent on bringing their superior the main prize - Sam Winchester alive and begging to accept his deal. Castiel had fallen asleep briefly, nothing compared to how much sleep he needs now but enough for Dean to shake him roughly till he awoke startled in the backseat of the Impala. Dean had that haunted look on his face and it was then Castiel learned the truth. How his future self had fallen and had tainted his soul and body with sexual acts and countless numbers of drugs. He had realized then why Dean always looked so uncomfortable around him when he ate or accidentally fell asleep - he was terrified that the future was already happening.
He had listened to Dean’s story of rat infested streets and zombie humans ready to tear apart anyone. The description of Deans future self left even Castiel horrified that the man he had rebuilt piece by piece, whose soul he had made whole again was back to wicked acts of torture, had become hardened by the harshness of his life and had given up on his own brother. When Dean had returned to the present he had been determined to make things right again, to be there for Sam, to stop either of them saying ‘yes’, to keep Castiel on the straight and narrow and stop the slow and painful decline of mankind through the release of the Croatoan virus. It had only worked for as little as six months, destiny moved its plans forward and now the virus was already released, Castiel felt closer to becoming mortal every passing day and Sam was in the hands of Demons, unable to escape or be rescued.
As Dean motioned for Castiel to pack up his things so they could move on - it was never wise to stay in the same town for longer than a day or two; Castiel shook away the remaining dust on his clothes. He hadn’t been dreaming not that night and not the time before when he had felt cold upon waking in an overly heated room. He had believed he had lost most of his abilities, no not lost that would imply he had simply misplaced them, no his powers had slowly been stripped from him, his disconnection from his home and his brothers slowly drained away all that he once was and made him, what was it that demon Meg had called him? Impotent that’s it. Useless, able to fight yes but exorcise demons at the flick of a wrist? Travel through time like it was a simple walk to the next room? No the strength that actually mattered and could save lives were gone. Yet he knew he had traveled to a different place that night, somehow he still had a minuscule almost pointless bit of power left, something he couldn’t actually control but was guiding him places.
As he closed the motel door behind him following Dean’s led to the car he automatically reached for the amulet he still wore, despite it never glowing white liked he had idiotically hoped for it still hanged around his neck and he wondered maybe a foolish hope, a ridiculous thought that maybe his Father was still out there and maybe he was meant find something out there in the uncertain ever changing plains of time and reality.
The static of the radio kicked in and as they drove away Castiel bit back the words on his tongue, he kept them to himself I think I can fix this Dean, I think everything will be okay
II
July 2008 - New York City
The sirens and the warnings had been echoing through the near empty city for three weeks now, they were a constant stream of authoritarian voices bellowing the Government sponsored party line "The city is being evacuated, do not attempt to stay, officials will be going door to door to help this process run as smoothly as possible" but the inhabitants of the once wealthy city hadn’t succumbed that easily and now armored cars and men dressed in Hazmat suits wandered the streets block by block rounding up the stragglers. Everyone knew that there was no happy new life waiting for them across the country in a safe state. These people were infected; they were a threat to humanity as a whole. They weren’t going to find lost relatives or new jobs out West. This was genocide but it was acceptable genocide to those in charge and those outside of the city.
Mohinder Suresh ran down what felt like the hundredth alleyway that day, the stink of uncollected garbage should have been something he was used to be now but even after six months of the flies and maggots he still found himself nauseous. The shower only twenty minutes earlier hadn’t helped matters, the air was damp and the reek of not only the garbage but the rotting corpses of small animals and overflowing sewage pipes seemed to fester in the air and cling to his skin and hair.
He rounded the corner and slipped down another small path, he could hear the words muffled through the megaphones, the lies easily sliding out of the mouths of people who in all fairness Mohinder pondered probably had no idea what happened to anyone they found and ushered towards the nearest fortified van. These officials were lucky enough not to fear for their own safety now.
"But only for now, they will be rounded up by new officials, new men in tougher suits with bigger weapons and sent to their deaths, to the slaughterhouse their fellow human beings created." He mumbled he could feel the words raising up in his throat and tumbling out. Sometimes he could be silent for days, maybe he considered even weeks but then the levy would be breached and everything he had kept in would spill over. The mumbling, insane scientist. He could barely even laugh at the absurdity of his life anymore. There he was a weak foolish man hiding in a decaying city like a fugitive, barely two years ago he was a respected Professor at Chennai University, happy to teach eager students about evolution and now he was breaking into a off-site laboratory that once belonged to Columbia University but he guessed now belonged to no one. Not even the men who he scuttled away from day after day seemed to care about the science behind everything that had gone wrong. Too late for cures in this putrid land.
Mohinder easily entered through the fire exit door, he had broken the lock that someone in their cautiousness had once placed there only the other week. As he entered the dreary corridor, cockroaches scuttled out into the open. Their constant quest for survival, and ability to cling onto life made him burst out into a loud manic laughter that frightened even those creatures. He had once accused a man of being a parasite, of feeding of others pain and misery, steeling his own fathers work but the irony had not escaped him that Mohinder himself was now no better than his father’s murderer - he had more in common with the disgusting cockroaches that continued to escape from this crumbling building than he did with the person he had once been. They had survived against all odds, where other species failed - there stood roaches, Mohinder Suresh and somewhere out there stalking the shadows the man who wouldn’t leave him alone, Sylar.
He knew the way to the main supply room from memory, a place he had now visited four times in fortnight scavenging for test tubes, syringes, anything that may be of use. These trips were the only time he would venture outside, before he had needed to find further equipment he had spent three consecutive months locked away in his father old apartment block - hiding in basements whenever the doors were kicked down and the remaining residents were dragged away. He lived on food stockpiled by his former neighbors when the panic had first began over a year ago now and gained little comfort in knowing that he was only doing this, only staying in the city because he could find a cure, he could stop this from happening to other people.
"You didn’t stop it from happening to me Mohinder"
The voice was colder, more abrupt than had remembered but of course it was angry why it wouldn’t be, it was right he hadn’t saved this man. Mohinder tried to ignore the whispers, focusing instead of packing his satchel with what he needed but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy, he was too far gone to ever properly send it away for good.
"What you need to do Mohinder is to stop fooling yourself" the mocking continued and as the Doctor turned to leave the room he tried to stand his ground, he dodged the body and rattled the door handle but it wouldn’t budge. Panic began to rise through his veins, the blood pumping quickly too quickly into his heart.
"Matthew I’m sorry, you know I am, I did everything I could, I tried helping you, I didn’t sleep for 10 days don’t you remember?" his breathing was labored, his vision was threatening to leave him altogether, he reached inside his jacket pocket for the small bottle of pills only to instantly curse himself for leaving them back at his place.
The figure in front of him, the once caring Matt Parkman, a man Mohinder considered a friend actually sneered at him and pushed him in the chest, causing Mohinder to crash against the frame of the door. Pain seared through him and he knew he was going to collapse, faint like a pathetic human being.
"Oh Mohinder you are pathetic already, doesn’t make much difference if you’re left alone on some dirty lab floor for those cockroaches and their rat friends to feed upon" Matt looked down upon him continued to jab at his body. "It didn’t work Mohinder, didn’t work because you failed and took me and Molly with you"
Molly. Her name bounced across the walls. Please please don’t let her be here, please Mohinder couldn’t face seeing her again, seeing her as he last remembered, hooked up to machines, eyes turning red, skin peeling away. A little girl turned into a monster. The thought of her staring up at him searching for answers, asking why didn’t he save her, wasn’t he her hero? Wasn’t he her father figure sent to stop the bogey man and cure all her woes, these thoughts spurred him into action. He pushed himself forward and against the body of his former housemate and once friend.
"You aren’t here, I know you aren’t, you can say all you want, I did what I could for Molly, I did everything for all of you, you were the one who didn’t get to Peter in time to get him to stop Adam. I didn’t release the virus!" Each word was said with a stronger conviction and as he closed his eyes to wish away the nightmare - the torrent of abuse subsided "I tried making my blood work I tried to"
Matt was gone. Of course he was. Mohinder had witnessed many things but even with his failing mind he knew ghosts did not exist and no matter how hard it always was, hallucinations could be beaten.
He rushed back out of the building, dismissing the banging of a door behind him as his battered nerves still on edge - unable to see the visitor that had watched the entire exchange quickly disappear from this world entirely.
III
February 2011 - Davenport, Oklahoma
“Dean stop it!" Castiel moved swiftly across the warehouse pulling at the shoulders of his friend, attempting to and admittedly failing to pull him of the limp body he was sprawled over.
“That son of a bitch went Kurt Cobain on us Cas, blowing its own fucking brains out!" The usual fury was evident in his voice as he shrugged Castiel away from his body and began pacing the empty lot. Castiel had once watched him pace like a caged animal for two hours straight, he hadn’t been able to anything about it then other than politely nod ‘yes’ or ‘no’ at the appropriate moments and he was pretty certain that now he would equally as useless.
“Dean they know how to..." Castiel paused he was always careful when using clichés to make sure he was correct, especially now Dean was kicking whatever he could find, his friend used to find his misuse of sayings and cultural reference amusing but Castiel knew like many things this trait which was once adorable would only serve to put Dean in a foul mood.
“How to what Cas?" Dean snapped green eyes locking with a fierce intensity with Castiel’s azure’s.
“Push your buttons I believe is the correct term" Castiel replied but Dean simply looked away like he was ashamed at how true this was “Dean that demon he didn’t know where Sam is, he wasn’t important enough to be privy to that kind of information"
Dean sighed glancing at the dead body at his feet “Why did he kill himself then? That makes no sense, I thought those demon assholes loved to stick around pissing us off"
“Because he knows, they know how much you will obsess over this, wondering if he knew more than he was letting on. They are testing you Dean"
“I am meant to pass or fail?" Dean muttered walking away from the scene of the fight and back out into the daylight.
Castiel followed, picking up the knife he had dropped in the struggle and catching up with Dean. Things were getting dire. Not just with the virus which was now all across Texas and would likely spread across stateliness any day now, but with Dean, he wasn’t sleeping Castiel knew that much and when he did managed to get any kind of rest it inevitably ended in Dean screams filling the motel room. He was dreaming of the day Sam was taken and no amount of alcohol would dull those memories.
++++
It was during these horridness nights where Dean would be thrashing against the sheets that Castiel had began to travel again. The guilt he felt when he realized he had left Dean alone with his pavor noctur´nus (night terrors) was all consuming but it seemed like for whatever reason his body relaxed when Dean slept, not matter how uneasy his friend sleep was Castiel would close his eyes and find himself somewhere else. No matter how far he traveled he always made it back in time to shake Dean away before the neighboring rooms complained about the noise.
He had rigorously made notes of each place he had traveled and what had happened there. Once he had found himself in fourteenth century England surrounded by victims of bubonic plague, the air pungent with death. Another journey had led him to a future North America where a nuclear wasteland inhabited the space once occupied by people and small towns. Castiel was still unsure what he was meant to do with these visits, only that everyone seemed to be associated with massive suffering and a destiny that he was unable to change. He had began to doubt that there was some higher purpose navigating his trips through past, present and future and that he was simply doing this of his own accord, his anxieties about the Croatoan virus seeping through his body finding his remaining Grace and deciding that it would be fun to show Castiel nothing can be changed, no one can be saved. He couldn’t fix it like he had secretly promised himself he would.
Then three nights ago he had found himself in amongst skyscrapers and a stench that reminded him of his visit to Black Death ridden London. The recognizable landscape made him sure that this was New York City and had first this had filled him with despair, another future dammed by that virus. As he walked through deserted streets though he realized something wasn’t quite right with this city. It was definitely New York but billboards were now plastered with evacuation notices advising that the entire city was being evacuated from the 14 June 2008.
This definitely wasn’t from the timeline he knew.
Intrigued Castiel had continued exploring the city, picking up old discarded newspapers along the way he learned what had happened here. A virus, named Shanti had been released in the March of the previous year, at first it had only targeted a small minority but it had mutated and now over 80% of this city alone had succumbed to a painful death. It didn’t turn them into the aggressive monsters he knew from the Croatoan virus it had simply turned them into feeble bodies with graying skin which eventually peeled away and eyes that turned red as the final grip of the disease took hold. Equally terrifying Castiel had decided and also it seemed without a cure.
He had stumbled back to the present too soon to find out any more and although he should have felt disappointed that it had yielded no real conclusions, Castiel felt that the spark back, the verve that had slowly faded away was here again if only for a few minutes. He had time traveled on too many occasion to remember but this had been different. This had been a different dimension, a different world altogether, could the destiny that was playing itself out here able to take its hold on the Winchesters over at the other reality? Castiel had many questions but his first concern had been to look after Dean and whisper words he knew his friends would not have heard in his startled state.
“Don’t give up hope yet Dean"
++++
Dean had insisted that they drove through the night, Castiel wanted to argue they should get some rest, he was desperate to attempt another trip back into the New York City he had found. He wasn’t even sure if he could actively force his body to transport him to a certain place but he was determined to try. Only now he was stuck staring out at passing highways which in the darkness amounted to looking at nothingness.
The radio was turned down low, which meant that Dean even wanted to talk or was too lost in his thoughts to realize. Usually during these moments Dean would come up with another dangerous plan to find his brother, it always risked his life and inevitably ended up with them both surrounded by demons. No matter how insane the next plan would be Castiel would of course follow. They had tortured demons, attempted (and failed) to persuade witches to help search for Sam, killed a nest of vampires for the hell of it or at least that was the reason Dean had mumbled to him and Castiel as much as he despised the creatures didn’t think Vampires knew or cared much about the coming storm. They had traveled thousands of miles since Sam had been ripped apart from his brother, Castiel had decided then that whatever Dean needed to do to get his family back he would support it. The only thing he would fight Dean against, even if it meant losing his life would be if Dean ever decided that saying yes to Michael was the way to get Sam back. Castiel would not allow this to happen but the option always lingered in the air between them.
“We should go to Bobby’s for a few days, maybe Ironside has some books we haven’t read a million times already" A sensible plan - that was a relief for Castiel, he hoped that he could spend some time alone, forcing himself to disappear to where he wanted to.
IV
December 2008 - New York City
The cold wind that closed around him when he appeared in the dark alleyway alerted Castiel that whilst this was certainly the same city he had been previously twice now, it wasn’t the same month as his last visit only the day before. There were a few inches of snow on the ground and the bitter chill made him ache for the warmth of his bed. Still at least he recognized his location, he was outside the university building where he had first spotted the one the rare human beings who hadn’t been in a chemical protection suit the day of his second visit.
Castiel had observed this man - dark-skinned and underfed, mess of hair covered by a hooded jacket as he had rushed through the streets and ended up at this lab. The first thing he had noticed about this male was the incoherent mumblings, followed by an unnerving laughter but he also observed the determination that the stranger had, he could clearly hear the announcements telling everyone they had to leave the city and yet here he was a lone human surviving against the odds. Castiel found himself feeling an instant bond with this man, he had never really felt like or dislike towards other people who weren’t the Winchesters or their close friends but it found it encouraging how the man was taking supplies of medical equipment and rather than just ransacking the place he was considerate, like having manners and standards was something he still strived for. The sudden talking to himself had startled Castiel, he had been watching from inside the small stockroom, shielded by invisibility.
The muttering he had heard earlier in the alley had turned into a full conversation with empty space. Castiel had felt his heart ache, he had too readily pinned his hopes on a complete stranger who it seemed was suffering from some kind of mental illness and would be of no help. He had decided against moving away straight away, instead he sympathized with the man who looked terrified at whatever illusion he was seeing. It had felt like no matter where he went to people were suffering.
He had moved to leave, too pained by the man’s own anguish but then he had heard something that had intrigued him. The man was screaming about the virus, pushing against emptiness as he tried convincing the inner demons that was torturing him that he had tried making his blood work. Cure the virus maybe?
This was the reason Castiel was wandering empty streets, listening out for anything that would led him to the man. When Sam had been taken, Dean had assumed it was so Lucifer could convince him to say yes but Castiel always insisted it was more than that, the Croatoan virus had been let lose two months previously and the only person they knew who was immune to it had been the younger Winchester. The demons had snatched away not only their companion but their only hope to find a cure. Now Castiel was following footprints of the only living human left in the city. If the man could survive this virus could he help with one that plagued his reality?
++++
The apartment building offered little warmth for Mohinder as he entered through the hallway, force of habit led him to the mailboxes before he berated himself for being so foolish - only old junk mail and unopened letters from the desperate family members of his neighbors remained gathering dust. He hadn’t received a letter in nearly two years, his mind insisted however on clinging onto routine even if it was pointless.
Sighing he made his way up to the sixth floor no longer cautious of being quiet as he walked. It was easier to move around the city now, the officials had abandoned their search for any survivors three months previously - their numbers had dwindled so low that Mohinder suspected most of the people who had attempted to destroy the carriers of the virus had themselves now succumbed to its deathly grip. He hadn’t heard the voice of another human being since the end of September - he is pretty sure the visitations of former friends on a nightly basis don’t count.
So alone now in the rotting core of the Big Apple Mohinder regularly forgets to even lock his door this is just one of the many things even his minds desperate need for routine is losing a grip on. Forgotten locks, forgotten meals. None of it mattered anymore.
The silence of the building is interrupted abruptly by the cool calculating voice that greats Mohinder on his entry into his home.
“Well hello Mohinder, it has been a while hasn’t it?"
Sylar in all his arrogant glory standing there like he would be welcomed in like a house guest.
Mohinder automatically reached for his gun, the only item he still possessed from his foolish venture with the Company, he had used it before and would again even if it would be pointless against his inhuman being.
“Get the hell out of here" Mohinder walked carefully towards his enemy, who was casually stood by one of the whiteboards Mohinder had taken from a nearby school to help work his equations and formulas out on.
Sylar stood studying them, like he actually cared about what Mohinder was trying to achieve with his experiments. Mohinder hadn’t seen him since the summer, he had hoped that out of everyone who had surrendered to the inevitable pull of the virus that Sylar would be top of the list but no he had a canny ability to adapt to any circumstance. Humanity destroying disease? No problem. As much as Mohinder loathed him and all his talk of evolutionary imperative and being special he truly was one of a kind, a study in survival of the fittest even Darwin would be amazed by.
“Daddy would be proud of all your hard work Mohinder" Sylar sneered, he knew how to twist every word and make it sting, Mohinder refused to rise to his taunting but he was exhausted and hungry, the last thing he wanted was another confrontation with this man.
Sylar smiled as he faced Mohinder, he was completely unconcerned by the weapon pointed at his head, he thought that the man holding it didn’t have the guts to pull the trigger. Mohinder may not be the strong revenging son anymore but the need to end the life of this parasite still pounded through his veins.
“Why are you here Sylar? Bored now everyone with abilities is dead and you have no one to play with?" Instinctively Mohinder always found strength when he was in these situations, he could barely remember to wash in the morning or cook dinner but faced with the presence of his father’s killer and all the weakness that had consumed him since he began losing the people he cared about, it all faded away for those brief moments. He was never going to be weak in Sylar’s company, the day that happened he knew he would be too far gone to carry on.
“Can’t I just visit an old friend?" Sylar began circling Mohinder, he was trying to scare him, using his telekinesis to casually move objects around the room for no reason other than to intimidate and show off “You know it’s just me and you left Mohinder, how wonderful is that? It’s like the good old days when we traveled across the country together, side by side in the car, in that cramped motel room"
Sylar was inches from his face now, whispering words which Mohinder wish he could brush aside as lies but couldn’t. No matter how many times he tried to convince himself he had been with Zane Taylor and not Sylar the truth couldn’t be unwritten.
He began moving Mohinder’s arm down, twisting the gun away from his head and pointing towards the floor instead, Sylar grabbed Mohinder by the hips and pulled them close, laughing as he continued “I’m sure you could do with some comfort, some heat on this bitter cold night"
Without any warning Mohinder pulled his arm up as quickly as he could and pulled the trigger, Sylar’s instincts were too sharp for any damage to be done, he moved the gun out of Mohinder’s hand with the quick flick of a wrist and then proceeded to hold Mohinder in place with his power. This was beginning to feel all too familiar to Mohinder, coming face to face with Sylar, getting reminded of a those few days when he was truly happy and thought he had found someone to share his theories with, someone who genuinely seemed interested in the research he was pursuing and then ending up pinned against the nearest wall by an invisible force.
Sylar stalked towards him, hand still out in front of him keeping Mohinder in place “Now that’s gone and hurt my feelings Mohinder"
Mohinder could feel himself panicking, he hated himself for it but the strength that had flowed so freely only minutes before had disappeared too quickly, maybe he was stupid to believe he could still be strong now after all this time alone, without the comfort and reassurance of friends, without the knowledge that Peter or Matt would come running through the door any moment now. All that was now gone.
“Someone else is here" Sylar frowned looking around the room. Mohinder felt the hold on his neck loosen and his body slumped to the floor. Sylar had been distracted and that was all he needed to be safe again, if only for a short time.
Mohinder wondered if only for a moment if perhaps Sylar could see his hallucinations, see the ghosts he can't push away not with the slip of a pill on his tongue or the warmth of a glass of whiskey sliding down his throat. He certainly seems to be looking in the direction of nothingness just books piled up high and overflowing test tubes.
He should just take his chance and run but the chance to ridicule Sylar overwhelms his desire to survive this meeting “Getting paranoid now as well? How very serial killer cliché of you Sylar"
Sylar scowled and started rattling on about how Mohinder can’t have forgotten the wonderful power Dale Smithers bestowed upon him, how he can hear the storms brewing of the Atlantic and how they wait to batter the deserted city in the middle of the night, and that he can make out every breath still left in the world.
Whatever Sylar heard in his apartment must have gone quiet because he stopped looking and diverted his full attention back to Mohinder.
“Look at you Mohinder, you’re too pathetic to even have fun with anymore, I should just put you out of your misery right now"
Mohinder considered this, pondered an end to this retched life, maybe maybe it wouldn’t be that terrible not to have to struggle to wake every morning, to finally find some kind of peace. “So why don’t you then? Stop threatening to do it and actually follow through for once!"
By the time he turned to hear Sylar’s response his would be killer had left the room, promise unfulfilled - Mohinder left to face another night searching for impossible answers.
++++
The tension in the room Castiel imagined would be unbearable to most observers, yet for him the exchange between the two men had been fascinating - the animosity and the bitterness seeped through into every carefully crafted sentence. It was clearly a battle of the wills. In a way it reminded him the resentment that used to boil between his brothers - when Lucifer was still welcomed in Heaven and Michael insisted on challenging his every fault and misstep.
He had misjudged Mohinder completely, the frailty and weakness he had originally seen in the man had been replaced by a stubbornness that Castiel had only ever seen in Dean. It made him immediately warm towards Mohinder.
The man that had stood looming over him was a different story altogether, he obviously was physically stronger and but his attempts to frighten his opponent had fallen flat, even when he had been holding him mid air, something Castiel was both intrigued and concerned by, even then Mohinder was trying to be strong.
Castiel had been wandering the city for what could have been hours or minutes, it was always hard to tell, though he knew his excursions were no longer dreams they still had that hazy uncertain quality that dreams possessed, he never knew how long had had actually disappeared from his reality to this. He had knew from the length of the conversation he witnessed in front of him that only ten minutes earlier her had stumbled into the path of Mohinder and began trailing him, invisibility was something he was still capable of asserting when needed.
Now he waited silently until the threat of this Sylar had left the room and Mohinder was muttering incoherently and going back to his work. He had recovered fairly quickly from a near death confrontation, evidence that this was a regular meeting between the two men.
Castiel choose his moment to appear, calm or at least what passed for tranquility in this apartment had engulfed the room and now was time to make his presence known.
“Hello"
It seemed a simple human way to start a conversation but it startled Mohinder he spun quickly to face the owner of this voice then frowned.
"Now I’m imagining people I don't even know, this is ludicrous" Mohinder turned away back to the whiteboard, wiping off the equations and frantically scribbling new ones.
Castiel knew it was not going to be easy convincing this stranger to come and follow him on a mission even he wasn't sure was going to work. He remembered back to his first real meeting with Dean, how reluctant and dismissive his charge had been. Castiel knew a lot more about humans now but he still found it hard to anticipate their reactions to everything. One thing he was certain of though was that declaring oneself as an Angel would be a mistake right now. Mohinder was a man of science and not of faith.
He began to slowly move towards Mohinder not wishing to be seen as a threat, clearly the man he had enough of intimidating behavior for one day.
“I am not a hallucination Mohinder, merely an observer"
Mohinder stopped his writing and mumbling at those words, he still looked forward at the board rather than in Castiel's direction.
“I'm afraid I'm not a big fan of people observing me, I already have one psychopath who won't leave me alone, have no attention of gaining another one" Bitterness dripped from every word, the anger he had displayed earlier with the other man was still evident.
“He wasn't lying"
“Excuse me?"
Perhaps he could appeal to the scientist in Mohinder by pointing out the overwhelming evidence that his situation was doomed would encourage him to listen to the alternatives
“That man - he was right everyone in this world is gone already, it’s too late their souls have passed on" Castiel spoke, silently saying a prayer for the many who had died in this land.
"I don't believe that, there is still a chance"
The words came out as a whisper, they lacked any real conviction - they were the words of a man trying to convince himself that he still believed there was hope.
Mohinder brushed Castiel aside and sat down on the couch, he played nervously with his hands and seemed to wish to look anywhere but at his guest, perhaps hoping by ignoring Castiel he would simply disappear like his other visions.
Castiel sat himself down on the coffee table in front of Mohinder, his interaction with people had been limited - generally Dean or Sam had done the talking for him, laughing among themselves about Castiel's lack of social etiquette. Recently though with Sam gone Castiel had been forced into being the comforting friend for Dean and though he failed to understand half of the things expected of him he knew that sometimes in order to get through to his friend he had to reassure rather than lecture him.
“I wish there was but this land is forsaken"
Mohinder looked up as if he only just realized he was genuinely having a conversation with someone real "Who are you exactly?"
"I am of no importance but I believe you are"
At this proclamation Mohinder started laughing but for the first time made direct eye contact “In case you haven’t noticed all I am is a failure, a father who watched the child he swore to protect die, a friend who didn’t save a single living being, a brother born too late to save his sister oh and apparently one of the last people left in this godforsaken world!"
Mohinder rose to his feet and began circling Castiel, he picked up a pad and a pen and began writing once more, believing this conversation was over with.
“You have a chance to be someone to help save the world, I don’t assume to know you, I’ve only watched in the shadows and seen you struggle with your guilt but I’ve also seen you working endlessly on a cure even now when I told you everyone else is gone. You want to make a difference and you can."
Another laugh and Castiel was faced with Mohinder looming down at him.
“According to you everyone is dead so what difference can I make?"
Castiel stood, he wanted them to be on an equal footing as he began to explain his plan “Everyone is dead in this world yes. I come from other place; I believe your scientists refer to them as alternative dimensions."
A snort, followed by Mohinder walking across the room searching frantically in his bag, he turned back with a small bottle of pills in his hand.
“So you’re a time traveling accountant, here to lead me on my path to redemption?" Mohinder began to swallow the tablets, no consideration for how many he was taking just dry swallowing the pink pills like he was consuming candy.
“The pills won’t make me go away, as I said before I am not a hallucination nor do I deal with peoples accounts." Castiel gently took hold of Mohinder’s wrist and seized the drugs away, throwing the container to the floor “The world I’ve come from is not that different from here - there is a New York City but it is not deserted or plagued with disease its bustling with life, humanity still continues but the apocalypse is coming and if we can’t stop it then everyone will be destroyed"
“You remind me of Peter" Mohinder seemed to be at least responding to Castiel now so he let him continue with a slight tilt of his head, he had no idea who Peter was but it seemed important to Mohinder.
“Thinking he had some mission to be humanity’s savior. You know what happened to Peter Petrelli?" Mohinder asked but received just another nod from Castiel to carry on “He dropped the viral then watched as his own brother was ravaged by the disease, two months later he jumped of a building and decided not to fly."
“I was led here, out of all the points in time and space I keep waking up in this city following your path Mohinder" The sounds coming from his own mouth were foreign to him - they reeked of desperation, of despair but Castiel could not help himself. His faith had been tested so many times since meeting the Winchesters, he had learned his brothers were not virtuous beings, he had watched as one of his few friends Uriel had confessed to betraying their own kind in favor of the Morningstar but throughout it all, all the disappointments and confusion had had believed in Dean and now he believed in Mohinder, he had to convince him to help.
“So this is destiny? Because I’m sorry I’m sure you mean well but destiny is a load of nonsense"
He was pleading now, actually close to falling to his knees and begging that this man followed him back to Singers Salvage Yard and with this desperation he realized he couldn’t stay away from speaking the truth about what they would face “There is a virus where I come from, and it is slowly devouring small towns and turning innocent people into wild creatures - possessed with evil. It could obliterate the entire land within a year and with it the Devil - literally Lucifer himself will rise and take control. My mission is not to be a saviour like your friend Peter Petrelli tried to be, it is to help the only man who can stop this destruction achieve his destiny. He is a good man, a righteous man full of good intent but he is consumed with despair, guilt eats away at his soul."
“And you want me to help him? I can barely help myself" Mohinder frowned but Castiel wouldn’t let him walk away again.
“You are resistant to this virus; it could help cure the disease we are facing."
Mohinder sighed sounding less incredulous and more confused “I don’t know"
“You are a scientist correct? Is it not in your very nature to want to help? I can understand your self doubt, it’s the same that consumes Dean Winchester, it’s the same I’ve found myself suffering from more and more lately. It’s incredibly human and it terrifies me" Castiel admitted and it was true all these human emotions he had slowly began to feel were more petrifying than rebelling from Heaven and losing his family, he had no idea how people coped with the rapid change of feelings - love, anger, fear, happiness all in the space of mere minutes hurtling through their mind and dictating their actions and reactions to events.
“I am not a begging man, nor do a take pleasure in using force but if I have to do one of these things to convince you then I will" He continued “Do you really want to spend the rest of your days hiding in this apartment from that man, Sylar I believed you called him? Because he is an evil man, a man that would thrive in the depths of Hell, a man that will in the end grow tired of your cat and mouse game and will end your life"
“You don’t have to lecture me about that creature I know full well what he is capable of!" Mohinder scowled and gently pushed at Castiel’s chest “Who is to say I can even trust you anymore than Sylar? You seem to avoid any real questions about who you are?"
“That is a reasonable enough question, I am Castiel and as I told you I am here to help a man named Dean Winchester " Castiel was certain he could get through to him given time but he could feel himself being pulled back to his own reality, the pull of Dean’s voice echoing in his mind, shouting through Bobby’s house for Castiel. He had to be quick before he left and Mohinder just brushed aside his visit as a dream
“Mohinder I have to go now, but I will be back soon and I hope you will have changed your mind by then"
“And if I don’t?"
“I will keep on visiting you until fate decides otherwise" Castiel felt the dragging of his body through time, could feel the space around him open up and pull him through, Mohinder’s apartment slowly disappearing.
Part Two
Fandom: Supernatural & Heroes
Rating: Light R
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel
Characters: Castiel, Dean, Mohinder Suresh (Heroes)
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Heroes (up to S2), Supernatural (up to 05x04)
Word Count: 19,112 (Total)
Summary: Its 2011 and as the world begins to shatter apart, Castiel wanders through time and space desperately seeking a way put things right. Meanwhile in 2008, alone in a city inhabited by ghosts of his past and the stink of a dying mankind, Mohinder Suresh tries to survive and seek redemption he believes he can no longer find.
Notes: Thanks to amechiro for her wonderful mix.
This was written for the apocabigbang challenge
Fanmix: Come Wander With Me by amechiro ♥
Part One
I
January 2011 - Kerrville, Texas
When it had first begun the entire thing had been simple to ignore. In fact it had felt like dreaming or at least the sensation he associated with that very human act, that along with the occasional hunger and outbursts of irrational behavior had accompanied his descent into this being - neither fully human or the pure creature of light had had once been. The further humanity was dragged into Hell, the closer he came to slipping completely into this new skin; hybrid, freak, a son no longer of God but unable to ever grasp the complexities of humans - even a lifetime of observing could not help solve that problem.
It had just been a dream, "Nothing to worry about" isn’t that what Dean had once said when he had fallen into unconsciousness for the first time and had woken up startled and confused? "It’s all perfectly normal Cas" that had been Sam, sympathetic and supportive, trying harder than his brother who had glanced at Castiel like he was someone else now - something he was afraid to deal with.
Though both Winchesters had simply been reassuring themselves over the intensifying and terrifying loss of their friend’s strength, Castiel decided to find comfort in those words when he had woken suddenly from the dreamscape of a time and place he had never visited and with the cold air from the night still cool on his skin.
Nothing to be concerned about.
Ignoring the troubling truth and bottling up his increasing doubts had been the one thing that had come naturally to him, the one thing the brothers could easily teach him.
++++
The small town was indistinguishable from the hundreds he had traveled through in the past two years - a diner claiming to sell 'the best apple pie in the state', small businesses even bustling or close to collapse, everyday ordinary people taking their place in the routine of life.
He wandered through the streets, it seemed like he was invisible to any of the inhabitants - this was a reoccurring aspect of his dreams which if had had decided to dig further into would no doubt uncover layers of deep rooted anxiety. He preferred not to expose yet more weaknesses, he was failing enough already in the real world.
The heat from the afternoon sun felt unbearable on his skin, the road he walked down for what felt like hours eventually led out of town and now he was on a dusty highway, sticky and achy and nothing, nothing at all was happening in this dream, it was pointless.
He could be awake right now, doing something constructive, finding a way to stop this mess he helped to create and yet his mind insisted on staying in this ridiculous vision that was neither useful or pleasant - he now felt dehydrated and was covered in dust and being attacked by insects.
"Cas?"
Castiel turned around suddenly, eyesight momentarily blinded by the sun and confusion quickly taking over. There was a banging, a loud thud thud thud and Dean was calling his name but Dean wasn’t here, he wasn’t on this never-ending road he wasn’t....
"Cas? Seriously I don’t have time for hide and fucking seek"
Castiel woke with a start, feeling the cool porcelain of a bathtub surrounding him. He blinked - surprised by his location. He had been certain he had been on a bed researching. He remembered how his eyes had felt heavy and despite fighting his body need for sleep had felt them close. He could hear Dean hammering his fists on the bathroom door and lifted himself out of the tub, curiously finding dust on his trousers and wiping his brow to find sweat.
Before Dean overreacted and started kicking the door down he quickly brushed of what he could of the dirt and tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of the heat still clinging to his body - heat that came from a place he had only been dreaming about.
"I am fine Dean" He murmured, regaining his composure before facing his companion.
Dean was there staring doubtfully, frowning as he could see Castiel looking disheveled rather than his usual stern stance "You sure? You look like Hell"
Castiel knew that the constant anxiety and concern that bordered on obsessive at times was just Dean dealing with the distress of losing his brother, the burden of seeing the world slowly crumble - the despair of watching innocent people dying with no way of stopping it. It helped him to focus on the remaining friends he now had left, which is why Castiel walked past him back into the main room of the motel suite, away from the prying eyes of Dean and attempted to change the conversation. He had to play down the uneasiness he felt. Something wasn't right, something had changed but he could not bother his friend with such pointless worries.
"How did your meeting with Bobby's associates go?" he asked, trying to sound casual but knowing he probably still sounded stiff and serious like Dean always used to tease him about - back when enjoying the occasional joke with the brothers was still possible and he guessed qualified as that past-time known as fun.
Dean walked around the side of the bed picking up clothes and stuffing them ungracefully in a holdall. Castiel couldn’t help but watch every little action he took, every opportunity to stare anywhere but at the once powerful Angel stood rigid by the mini-bar Dean had insisted on emptying all by himself the night before. Dean was avoiding the question, something he seemed to do on a regular basis these days, something which both frustrated and troubled Castiel, he knew his companion was struggling to even wake up every morning let alone have to interact with someone who wasn’t his brother yet filled the physical space Sam once had - in the passenger seat of the impala, in the seat opposite him at the countless local diners they had passed through and in the other bed of all the shared motel rooms they had checked in and out of at a disturbingly fast pace.
Eventually after finishing his half-hearted attempts of packing Dean settled in the corner of the room on the worn sofa - as far away from Castiel as physically possible. The growing distance between them is something he couldn’t blame Dean for, his friend clearly petrified of being responsible for more death and loss, he paradoxically showed excessive concern for Castiel whilst pushing away and inhabiting his own world - where guilt and anger ruled and any attempts of talking about the stark reality are discouraged at all costs. In the three months since Castiel has been left with just one Winchester for company he had witnessed the wrath of Dean Winchester and the incredible loneliness. He only wishes he could be of some comfort, he once could read Dean’s soul, know his thoughts and enter his dreams to pacify memories of torture and screaming in an instant - now he can barely form the right words to assure his friend all hope is not lost.
"Its spreading Cas, two more towns in over a week" Dean finally started to speak, his voice so hushed Castiel had to move closer to hear him "Jim and Kyle, Bobby’s old pals they said local authorities are playing it down to be some outbreak of really bad flu and not to worry because its and I quote “under control". How can they say that, they have no idea what they are dealing with!"
The anger flared up again, the pain and frustration bubbling under, Castiel wanted to say "Don’t worry it will be okay Dean" - isn’t that how it’s meant to go? But he knows from experience these words aren’t enough. He began to play awkwardly play with the sleeves of his coat and avoided looking at the remaining dust on his shoes.
The rant that obviously has been building on the ride back from the bar builds further "The police the local hospitals they have no clue Cas, no idea that this isn’t a really bad case of the sniffles its Night of the Living Dead and all they can do is put up some roadblocks and play it down!"
Dean got up from his seat and it’s no surprise to Castiel that he walked over to him, not because he wants to be close but because the mini-fridge calls and Dean finds his prize - one remaining bottle he hadn’t finished from the night before.
Castiel knew if Sam was here he would take the alcohol away and keep Dean focused on what needed to be done. But Castiel isn’t sure he has that power over Dean, the bond the brothers had meant that they could tell each other when enough was enough - Castiel merely watched helplessly as the contents of the bottle empty quicker than he thinks is safe.
"Dean" Castiel tried to warn him, he knows in the past perhaps Dean was a little bit frightened of his strength, terrified the Angels would throw him back in the pit but Castiel doubts that Dean would flinch if Castiel grabbed his arm and threw the bottle against the wall, glass shattering everywhere. Dean would probably ignore it and go out for more.
He is pacing the room now, around the beds into the bathroom and back out mumbling about everything that has happened to them. It pains Castiel to see Dean like this, so lost and devoid of any happiness. Dean finally settles again this time on Castiel’s bed, he is probably too far gone to notice it isn’t his. There’s a long sigh, followed by curse words Castiel wishes he wouldn’t use but understands why he does.
"Do you think he said yes?" The question Castiel has heard too often, mostly when Dean is frustrated and inebriated but sometimes it comes out as a hush before the lights go out at night and Dean doesn’t expect an answer.
It’s the one thing Castiel knows how to answer, can figure out the right response to - it is always "No, no he didn’t and he never will." He never hesitates, never offers a maybe or a who knows? It is because in his heart he still believes Sam Winchester is strong enough to resist the manipulative words of Castiel’s own brother. He knows Sam is fighting for his right of freewill.
Castiel still remembers vividly the night Dean had told him the details of where Zachariah had sent him. It was shortly after Castiel had first begun to sleep and felt pangs of hunger he never realized could be so painful and all consuming. Sam had been stuck at the local library researching like he did every night, hoping to find some clause in Angel mythology they could expose or finding more powerful spells to protect them as they hid from the increasing onslaught of Demon bounty hunters, all intent on bringing their superior the main prize - Sam Winchester alive and begging to accept his deal. Castiel had fallen asleep briefly, nothing compared to how much sleep he needs now but enough for Dean to shake him roughly till he awoke startled in the backseat of the Impala. Dean had that haunted look on his face and it was then Castiel learned the truth. How his future self had fallen and had tainted his soul and body with sexual acts and countless numbers of drugs. He had realized then why Dean always looked so uncomfortable around him when he ate or accidentally fell asleep - he was terrified that the future was already happening.
He had listened to Dean’s story of rat infested streets and zombie humans ready to tear apart anyone. The description of Deans future self left even Castiel horrified that the man he had rebuilt piece by piece, whose soul he had made whole again was back to wicked acts of torture, had become hardened by the harshness of his life and had given up on his own brother. When Dean had returned to the present he had been determined to make things right again, to be there for Sam, to stop either of them saying ‘yes’, to keep Castiel on the straight and narrow and stop the slow and painful decline of mankind through the release of the Croatoan virus. It had only worked for as little as six months, destiny moved its plans forward and now the virus was already released, Castiel felt closer to becoming mortal every passing day and Sam was in the hands of Demons, unable to escape or be rescued.
As Dean motioned for Castiel to pack up his things so they could move on - it was never wise to stay in the same town for longer than a day or two; Castiel shook away the remaining dust on his clothes. He hadn’t been dreaming not that night and not the time before when he had felt cold upon waking in an overly heated room. He had believed he had lost most of his abilities, no not lost that would imply he had simply misplaced them, no his powers had slowly been stripped from him, his disconnection from his home and his brothers slowly drained away all that he once was and made him, what was it that demon Meg had called him? Impotent that’s it. Useless, able to fight yes but exorcise demons at the flick of a wrist? Travel through time like it was a simple walk to the next room? No the strength that actually mattered and could save lives were gone. Yet he knew he had traveled to a different place that night, somehow he still had a minuscule almost pointless bit of power left, something he couldn’t actually control but was guiding him places.
As he closed the motel door behind him following Dean’s led to the car he automatically reached for the amulet he still wore, despite it never glowing white liked he had idiotically hoped for it still hanged around his neck and he wondered maybe a foolish hope, a ridiculous thought that maybe his Father was still out there and maybe he was meant find something out there in the uncertain ever changing plains of time and reality.
The static of the radio kicked in and as they drove away Castiel bit back the words on his tongue, he kept them to himself I think I can fix this Dean, I think everything will be okay
II
July 2008 - New York City
The sirens and the warnings had been echoing through the near empty city for three weeks now, they were a constant stream of authoritarian voices bellowing the Government sponsored party line "The city is being evacuated, do not attempt to stay, officials will be going door to door to help this process run as smoothly as possible" but the inhabitants of the once wealthy city hadn’t succumbed that easily and now armored cars and men dressed in Hazmat suits wandered the streets block by block rounding up the stragglers. Everyone knew that there was no happy new life waiting for them across the country in a safe state. These people were infected; they were a threat to humanity as a whole. They weren’t going to find lost relatives or new jobs out West. This was genocide but it was acceptable genocide to those in charge and those outside of the city.
Mohinder Suresh ran down what felt like the hundredth alleyway that day, the stink of uncollected garbage should have been something he was used to be now but even after six months of the flies and maggots he still found himself nauseous. The shower only twenty minutes earlier hadn’t helped matters, the air was damp and the reek of not only the garbage but the rotting corpses of small animals and overflowing sewage pipes seemed to fester in the air and cling to his skin and hair.
He rounded the corner and slipped down another small path, he could hear the words muffled through the megaphones, the lies easily sliding out of the mouths of people who in all fairness Mohinder pondered probably had no idea what happened to anyone they found and ushered towards the nearest fortified van. These officials were lucky enough not to fear for their own safety now.
"But only for now, they will be rounded up by new officials, new men in tougher suits with bigger weapons and sent to their deaths, to the slaughterhouse their fellow human beings created." He mumbled he could feel the words raising up in his throat and tumbling out. Sometimes he could be silent for days, maybe he considered even weeks but then the levy would be breached and everything he had kept in would spill over. The mumbling, insane scientist. He could barely even laugh at the absurdity of his life anymore. There he was a weak foolish man hiding in a decaying city like a fugitive, barely two years ago he was a respected Professor at Chennai University, happy to teach eager students about evolution and now he was breaking into a off-site laboratory that once belonged to Columbia University but he guessed now belonged to no one. Not even the men who he scuttled away from day after day seemed to care about the science behind everything that had gone wrong. Too late for cures in this putrid land.
Mohinder easily entered through the fire exit door, he had broken the lock that someone in their cautiousness had once placed there only the other week. As he entered the dreary corridor, cockroaches scuttled out into the open. Their constant quest for survival, and ability to cling onto life made him burst out into a loud manic laughter that frightened even those creatures. He had once accused a man of being a parasite, of feeding of others pain and misery, steeling his own fathers work but the irony had not escaped him that Mohinder himself was now no better than his father’s murderer - he had more in common with the disgusting cockroaches that continued to escape from this crumbling building than he did with the person he had once been. They had survived against all odds, where other species failed - there stood roaches, Mohinder Suresh and somewhere out there stalking the shadows the man who wouldn’t leave him alone, Sylar.
He knew the way to the main supply room from memory, a place he had now visited four times in fortnight scavenging for test tubes, syringes, anything that may be of use. These trips were the only time he would venture outside, before he had needed to find further equipment he had spent three consecutive months locked away in his father old apartment block - hiding in basements whenever the doors were kicked down and the remaining residents were dragged away. He lived on food stockpiled by his former neighbors when the panic had first began over a year ago now and gained little comfort in knowing that he was only doing this, only staying in the city because he could find a cure, he could stop this from happening to other people.
"You didn’t stop it from happening to me Mohinder"
The voice was colder, more abrupt than had remembered but of course it was angry why it wouldn’t be, it was right he hadn’t saved this man. Mohinder tried to ignore the whispers, focusing instead of packing his satchel with what he needed but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy, he was too far gone to ever properly send it away for good.
"What you need to do Mohinder is to stop fooling yourself" the mocking continued and as the Doctor turned to leave the room he tried to stand his ground, he dodged the body and rattled the door handle but it wouldn’t budge. Panic began to rise through his veins, the blood pumping quickly too quickly into his heart.
"Matthew I’m sorry, you know I am, I did everything I could, I tried helping you, I didn’t sleep for 10 days don’t you remember?" his breathing was labored, his vision was threatening to leave him altogether, he reached inside his jacket pocket for the small bottle of pills only to instantly curse himself for leaving them back at his place.
The figure in front of him, the once caring Matt Parkman, a man Mohinder considered a friend actually sneered at him and pushed him in the chest, causing Mohinder to crash against the frame of the door. Pain seared through him and he knew he was going to collapse, faint like a pathetic human being.
"Oh Mohinder you are pathetic already, doesn’t make much difference if you’re left alone on some dirty lab floor for those cockroaches and their rat friends to feed upon" Matt looked down upon him continued to jab at his body. "It didn’t work Mohinder, didn’t work because you failed and took me and Molly with you"
Molly. Her name bounced across the walls. Please please don’t let her be here, please Mohinder couldn’t face seeing her again, seeing her as he last remembered, hooked up to machines, eyes turning red, skin peeling away. A little girl turned into a monster. The thought of her staring up at him searching for answers, asking why didn’t he save her, wasn’t he her hero? Wasn’t he her father figure sent to stop the bogey man and cure all her woes, these thoughts spurred him into action. He pushed himself forward and against the body of his former housemate and once friend.
"You aren’t here, I know you aren’t, you can say all you want, I did what I could for Molly, I did everything for all of you, you were the one who didn’t get to Peter in time to get him to stop Adam. I didn’t release the virus!" Each word was said with a stronger conviction and as he closed his eyes to wish away the nightmare - the torrent of abuse subsided "I tried making my blood work I tried to"
Matt was gone. Of course he was. Mohinder had witnessed many things but even with his failing mind he knew ghosts did not exist and no matter how hard it always was, hallucinations could be beaten.
He rushed back out of the building, dismissing the banging of a door behind him as his battered nerves still on edge - unable to see the visitor that had watched the entire exchange quickly disappear from this world entirely.
III
February 2011 - Davenport, Oklahoma
“Dean stop it!" Castiel moved swiftly across the warehouse pulling at the shoulders of his friend, attempting to and admittedly failing to pull him of the limp body he was sprawled over.
“That son of a bitch went Kurt Cobain on us Cas, blowing its own fucking brains out!" The usual fury was evident in his voice as he shrugged Castiel away from his body and began pacing the empty lot. Castiel had once watched him pace like a caged animal for two hours straight, he hadn’t been able to anything about it then other than politely nod ‘yes’ or ‘no’ at the appropriate moments and he was pretty certain that now he would equally as useless.
“Dean they know how to..." Castiel paused he was always careful when using clichés to make sure he was correct, especially now Dean was kicking whatever he could find, his friend used to find his misuse of sayings and cultural reference amusing but Castiel knew like many things this trait which was once adorable would only serve to put Dean in a foul mood.
“How to what Cas?" Dean snapped green eyes locking with a fierce intensity with Castiel’s azure’s.
“Push your buttons I believe is the correct term" Castiel replied but Dean simply looked away like he was ashamed at how true this was “Dean that demon he didn’t know where Sam is, he wasn’t important enough to be privy to that kind of information"
Dean sighed glancing at the dead body at his feet “Why did he kill himself then? That makes no sense, I thought those demon assholes loved to stick around pissing us off"
“Because he knows, they know how much you will obsess over this, wondering if he knew more than he was letting on. They are testing you Dean"
“I am meant to pass or fail?" Dean muttered walking away from the scene of the fight and back out into the daylight.
Castiel followed, picking up the knife he had dropped in the struggle and catching up with Dean. Things were getting dire. Not just with the virus which was now all across Texas and would likely spread across stateliness any day now, but with Dean, he wasn’t sleeping Castiel knew that much and when he did managed to get any kind of rest it inevitably ended in Dean screams filling the motel room. He was dreaming of the day Sam was taken and no amount of alcohol would dull those memories.
++++
It was during these horridness nights where Dean would be thrashing against the sheets that Castiel had began to travel again. The guilt he felt when he realized he had left Dean alone with his pavor noctur´nus (night terrors) was all consuming but it seemed like for whatever reason his body relaxed when Dean slept, not matter how uneasy his friend sleep was Castiel would close his eyes and find himself somewhere else. No matter how far he traveled he always made it back in time to shake Dean away before the neighboring rooms complained about the noise.
He had rigorously made notes of each place he had traveled and what had happened there. Once he had found himself in fourteenth century England surrounded by victims of bubonic plague, the air pungent with death. Another journey had led him to a future North America where a nuclear wasteland inhabited the space once occupied by people and small towns. Castiel was still unsure what he was meant to do with these visits, only that everyone seemed to be associated with massive suffering and a destiny that he was unable to change. He had began to doubt that there was some higher purpose navigating his trips through past, present and future and that he was simply doing this of his own accord, his anxieties about the Croatoan virus seeping through his body finding his remaining Grace and deciding that it would be fun to show Castiel nothing can be changed, no one can be saved. He couldn’t fix it like he had secretly promised himself he would.
Then three nights ago he had found himself in amongst skyscrapers and a stench that reminded him of his visit to Black Death ridden London. The recognizable landscape made him sure that this was New York City and had first this had filled him with despair, another future dammed by that virus. As he walked through deserted streets though he realized something wasn’t quite right with this city. It was definitely New York but billboards were now plastered with evacuation notices advising that the entire city was being evacuated from the 14 June 2008.
This definitely wasn’t from the timeline he knew.
Intrigued Castiel had continued exploring the city, picking up old discarded newspapers along the way he learned what had happened here. A virus, named Shanti had been released in the March of the previous year, at first it had only targeted a small minority but it had mutated and now over 80% of this city alone had succumbed to a painful death. It didn’t turn them into the aggressive monsters he knew from the Croatoan virus it had simply turned them into feeble bodies with graying skin which eventually peeled away and eyes that turned red as the final grip of the disease took hold. Equally terrifying Castiel had decided and also it seemed without a cure.
He had stumbled back to the present too soon to find out any more and although he should have felt disappointed that it had yielded no real conclusions, Castiel felt that the spark back, the verve that had slowly faded away was here again if only for a few minutes. He had time traveled on too many occasion to remember but this had been different. This had been a different dimension, a different world altogether, could the destiny that was playing itself out here able to take its hold on the Winchesters over at the other reality? Castiel had many questions but his first concern had been to look after Dean and whisper words he knew his friends would not have heard in his startled state.
“Don’t give up hope yet Dean"
++++
Dean had insisted that they drove through the night, Castiel wanted to argue they should get some rest, he was desperate to attempt another trip back into the New York City he had found. He wasn’t even sure if he could actively force his body to transport him to a certain place but he was determined to try. Only now he was stuck staring out at passing highways which in the darkness amounted to looking at nothingness.
The radio was turned down low, which meant that Dean even wanted to talk or was too lost in his thoughts to realize. Usually during these moments Dean would come up with another dangerous plan to find his brother, it always risked his life and inevitably ended up with them both surrounded by demons. No matter how insane the next plan would be Castiel would of course follow. They had tortured demons, attempted (and failed) to persuade witches to help search for Sam, killed a nest of vampires for the hell of it or at least that was the reason Dean had mumbled to him and Castiel as much as he despised the creatures didn’t think Vampires knew or cared much about the coming storm. They had traveled thousands of miles since Sam had been ripped apart from his brother, Castiel had decided then that whatever Dean needed to do to get his family back he would support it. The only thing he would fight Dean against, even if it meant losing his life would be if Dean ever decided that saying yes to Michael was the way to get Sam back. Castiel would not allow this to happen but the option always lingered in the air between them.
“We should go to Bobby’s for a few days, maybe Ironside has some books we haven’t read a million times already" A sensible plan - that was a relief for Castiel, he hoped that he could spend some time alone, forcing himself to disappear to where he wanted to.
IV
December 2008 - New York City
The cold wind that closed around him when he appeared in the dark alleyway alerted Castiel that whilst this was certainly the same city he had been previously twice now, it wasn’t the same month as his last visit only the day before. There were a few inches of snow on the ground and the bitter chill made him ache for the warmth of his bed. Still at least he recognized his location, he was outside the university building where he had first spotted the one the rare human beings who hadn’t been in a chemical protection suit the day of his second visit.
Castiel had observed this man - dark-skinned and underfed, mess of hair covered by a hooded jacket as he had rushed through the streets and ended up at this lab. The first thing he had noticed about this male was the incoherent mumblings, followed by an unnerving laughter but he also observed the determination that the stranger had, he could clearly hear the announcements telling everyone they had to leave the city and yet here he was a lone human surviving against the odds. Castiel found himself feeling an instant bond with this man, he had never really felt like or dislike towards other people who weren’t the Winchesters or their close friends but it found it encouraging how the man was taking supplies of medical equipment and rather than just ransacking the place he was considerate, like having manners and standards was something he still strived for. The sudden talking to himself had startled Castiel, he had been watching from inside the small stockroom, shielded by invisibility.
The muttering he had heard earlier in the alley had turned into a full conversation with empty space. Castiel had felt his heart ache, he had too readily pinned his hopes on a complete stranger who it seemed was suffering from some kind of mental illness and would be of no help. He had decided against moving away straight away, instead he sympathized with the man who looked terrified at whatever illusion he was seeing. It had felt like no matter where he went to people were suffering.
He had moved to leave, too pained by the man’s own anguish but then he had heard something that had intrigued him. The man was screaming about the virus, pushing against emptiness as he tried convincing the inner demons that was torturing him that he had tried making his blood work. Cure the virus maybe?
This was the reason Castiel was wandering empty streets, listening out for anything that would led him to the man. When Sam had been taken, Dean had assumed it was so Lucifer could convince him to say yes but Castiel always insisted it was more than that, the Croatoan virus had been let lose two months previously and the only person they knew who was immune to it had been the younger Winchester. The demons had snatched away not only their companion but their only hope to find a cure. Now Castiel was following footprints of the only living human left in the city. If the man could survive this virus could he help with one that plagued his reality?
++++
The apartment building offered little warmth for Mohinder as he entered through the hallway, force of habit led him to the mailboxes before he berated himself for being so foolish - only old junk mail and unopened letters from the desperate family members of his neighbors remained gathering dust. He hadn’t received a letter in nearly two years, his mind insisted however on clinging onto routine even if it was pointless.
Sighing he made his way up to the sixth floor no longer cautious of being quiet as he walked. It was easier to move around the city now, the officials had abandoned their search for any survivors three months previously - their numbers had dwindled so low that Mohinder suspected most of the people who had attempted to destroy the carriers of the virus had themselves now succumbed to its deathly grip. He hadn’t heard the voice of another human being since the end of September - he is pretty sure the visitations of former friends on a nightly basis don’t count.
So alone now in the rotting core of the Big Apple Mohinder regularly forgets to even lock his door this is just one of the many things even his minds desperate need for routine is losing a grip on. Forgotten locks, forgotten meals. None of it mattered anymore.
The silence of the building is interrupted abruptly by the cool calculating voice that greats Mohinder on his entry into his home.
“Well hello Mohinder, it has been a while hasn’t it?"
Sylar in all his arrogant glory standing there like he would be welcomed in like a house guest.
Mohinder automatically reached for his gun, the only item he still possessed from his foolish venture with the Company, he had used it before and would again even if it would be pointless against his inhuman being.
“Get the hell out of here" Mohinder walked carefully towards his enemy, who was casually stood by one of the whiteboards Mohinder had taken from a nearby school to help work his equations and formulas out on.
Sylar stood studying them, like he actually cared about what Mohinder was trying to achieve with his experiments. Mohinder hadn’t seen him since the summer, he had hoped that out of everyone who had surrendered to the inevitable pull of the virus that Sylar would be top of the list but no he had a canny ability to adapt to any circumstance. Humanity destroying disease? No problem. As much as Mohinder loathed him and all his talk of evolutionary imperative and being special he truly was one of a kind, a study in survival of the fittest even Darwin would be amazed by.
“Daddy would be proud of all your hard work Mohinder" Sylar sneered, he knew how to twist every word and make it sting, Mohinder refused to rise to his taunting but he was exhausted and hungry, the last thing he wanted was another confrontation with this man.
Sylar smiled as he faced Mohinder, he was completely unconcerned by the weapon pointed at his head, he thought that the man holding it didn’t have the guts to pull the trigger. Mohinder may not be the strong revenging son anymore but the need to end the life of this parasite still pounded through his veins.
“Why are you here Sylar? Bored now everyone with abilities is dead and you have no one to play with?" Instinctively Mohinder always found strength when he was in these situations, he could barely remember to wash in the morning or cook dinner but faced with the presence of his father’s killer and all the weakness that had consumed him since he began losing the people he cared about, it all faded away for those brief moments. He was never going to be weak in Sylar’s company, the day that happened he knew he would be too far gone to carry on.
“Can’t I just visit an old friend?" Sylar began circling Mohinder, he was trying to scare him, using his telekinesis to casually move objects around the room for no reason other than to intimidate and show off “You know it’s just me and you left Mohinder, how wonderful is that? It’s like the good old days when we traveled across the country together, side by side in the car, in that cramped motel room"
Sylar was inches from his face now, whispering words which Mohinder wish he could brush aside as lies but couldn’t. No matter how many times he tried to convince himself he had been with Zane Taylor and not Sylar the truth couldn’t be unwritten.
He began moving Mohinder’s arm down, twisting the gun away from his head and pointing towards the floor instead, Sylar grabbed Mohinder by the hips and pulled them close, laughing as he continued “I’m sure you could do with some comfort, some heat on this bitter cold night"
Without any warning Mohinder pulled his arm up as quickly as he could and pulled the trigger, Sylar’s instincts were too sharp for any damage to be done, he moved the gun out of Mohinder’s hand with the quick flick of a wrist and then proceeded to hold Mohinder in place with his power. This was beginning to feel all too familiar to Mohinder, coming face to face with Sylar, getting reminded of a those few days when he was truly happy and thought he had found someone to share his theories with, someone who genuinely seemed interested in the research he was pursuing and then ending up pinned against the nearest wall by an invisible force.
Sylar stalked towards him, hand still out in front of him keeping Mohinder in place “Now that’s gone and hurt my feelings Mohinder"
Mohinder could feel himself panicking, he hated himself for it but the strength that had flowed so freely only minutes before had disappeared too quickly, maybe he was stupid to believe he could still be strong now after all this time alone, without the comfort and reassurance of friends, without the knowledge that Peter or Matt would come running through the door any moment now. All that was now gone.
“Someone else is here" Sylar frowned looking around the room. Mohinder felt the hold on his neck loosen and his body slumped to the floor. Sylar had been distracted and that was all he needed to be safe again, if only for a short time.
Mohinder wondered if only for a moment if perhaps Sylar could see his hallucinations, see the ghosts he can't push away not with the slip of a pill on his tongue or the warmth of a glass of whiskey sliding down his throat. He certainly seems to be looking in the direction of nothingness just books piled up high and overflowing test tubes.
He should just take his chance and run but the chance to ridicule Sylar overwhelms his desire to survive this meeting “Getting paranoid now as well? How very serial killer cliché of you Sylar"
Sylar scowled and started rattling on about how Mohinder can’t have forgotten the wonderful power Dale Smithers bestowed upon him, how he can hear the storms brewing of the Atlantic and how they wait to batter the deserted city in the middle of the night, and that he can make out every breath still left in the world.
Whatever Sylar heard in his apartment must have gone quiet because he stopped looking and diverted his full attention back to Mohinder.
“Look at you Mohinder, you’re too pathetic to even have fun with anymore, I should just put you out of your misery right now"
Mohinder considered this, pondered an end to this retched life, maybe maybe it wouldn’t be that terrible not to have to struggle to wake every morning, to finally find some kind of peace. “So why don’t you then? Stop threatening to do it and actually follow through for once!"
By the time he turned to hear Sylar’s response his would be killer had left the room, promise unfulfilled - Mohinder left to face another night searching for impossible answers.
++++
The tension in the room Castiel imagined would be unbearable to most observers, yet for him the exchange between the two men had been fascinating - the animosity and the bitterness seeped through into every carefully crafted sentence. It was clearly a battle of the wills. In a way it reminded him the resentment that used to boil between his brothers - when Lucifer was still welcomed in Heaven and Michael insisted on challenging his every fault and misstep.
He had misjudged Mohinder completely, the frailty and weakness he had originally seen in the man had been replaced by a stubbornness that Castiel had only ever seen in Dean. It made him immediately warm towards Mohinder.
The man that had stood looming over him was a different story altogether, he obviously was physically stronger and but his attempts to frighten his opponent had fallen flat, even when he had been holding him mid air, something Castiel was both intrigued and concerned by, even then Mohinder was trying to be strong.
Castiel had been wandering the city for what could have been hours or minutes, it was always hard to tell, though he knew his excursions were no longer dreams they still had that hazy uncertain quality that dreams possessed, he never knew how long had had actually disappeared from his reality to this. He had knew from the length of the conversation he witnessed in front of him that only ten minutes earlier her had stumbled into the path of Mohinder and began trailing him, invisibility was something he was still capable of asserting when needed.
Now he waited silently until the threat of this Sylar had left the room and Mohinder was muttering incoherently and going back to his work. He had recovered fairly quickly from a near death confrontation, evidence that this was a regular meeting between the two men.
Castiel choose his moment to appear, calm or at least what passed for tranquility in this apartment had engulfed the room and now was time to make his presence known.
“Hello"
It seemed a simple human way to start a conversation but it startled Mohinder he spun quickly to face the owner of this voice then frowned.
"Now I’m imagining people I don't even know, this is ludicrous" Mohinder turned away back to the whiteboard, wiping off the equations and frantically scribbling new ones.
Castiel knew it was not going to be easy convincing this stranger to come and follow him on a mission even he wasn't sure was going to work. He remembered back to his first real meeting with Dean, how reluctant and dismissive his charge had been. Castiel knew a lot more about humans now but he still found it hard to anticipate their reactions to everything. One thing he was certain of though was that declaring oneself as an Angel would be a mistake right now. Mohinder was a man of science and not of faith.
He began to slowly move towards Mohinder not wishing to be seen as a threat, clearly the man he had enough of intimidating behavior for one day.
“I am not a hallucination Mohinder, merely an observer"
Mohinder stopped his writing and mumbling at those words, he still looked forward at the board rather than in Castiel's direction.
“I'm afraid I'm not a big fan of people observing me, I already have one psychopath who won't leave me alone, have no attention of gaining another one" Bitterness dripped from every word, the anger he had displayed earlier with the other man was still evident.
“He wasn't lying"
“Excuse me?"
Perhaps he could appeal to the scientist in Mohinder by pointing out the overwhelming evidence that his situation was doomed would encourage him to listen to the alternatives
“That man - he was right everyone in this world is gone already, it’s too late their souls have passed on" Castiel spoke, silently saying a prayer for the many who had died in this land.
"I don't believe that, there is still a chance"
The words came out as a whisper, they lacked any real conviction - they were the words of a man trying to convince himself that he still believed there was hope.
Mohinder brushed Castiel aside and sat down on the couch, he played nervously with his hands and seemed to wish to look anywhere but at his guest, perhaps hoping by ignoring Castiel he would simply disappear like his other visions.
Castiel sat himself down on the coffee table in front of Mohinder, his interaction with people had been limited - generally Dean or Sam had done the talking for him, laughing among themselves about Castiel's lack of social etiquette. Recently though with Sam gone Castiel had been forced into being the comforting friend for Dean and though he failed to understand half of the things expected of him he knew that sometimes in order to get through to his friend he had to reassure rather than lecture him.
“I wish there was but this land is forsaken"
Mohinder looked up as if he only just realized he was genuinely having a conversation with someone real "Who are you exactly?"
"I am of no importance but I believe you are"
At this proclamation Mohinder started laughing but for the first time made direct eye contact “In case you haven’t noticed all I am is a failure, a father who watched the child he swore to protect die, a friend who didn’t save a single living being, a brother born too late to save his sister oh and apparently one of the last people left in this godforsaken world!"
Mohinder rose to his feet and began circling Castiel, he picked up a pad and a pen and began writing once more, believing this conversation was over with.
“You have a chance to be someone to help save the world, I don’t assume to know you, I’ve only watched in the shadows and seen you struggle with your guilt but I’ve also seen you working endlessly on a cure even now when I told you everyone else is gone. You want to make a difference and you can."
Another laugh and Castiel was faced with Mohinder looming down at him.
“According to you everyone is dead so what difference can I make?"
Castiel stood, he wanted them to be on an equal footing as he began to explain his plan “Everyone is dead in this world yes. I come from other place; I believe your scientists refer to them as alternative dimensions."
A snort, followed by Mohinder walking across the room searching frantically in his bag, he turned back with a small bottle of pills in his hand.
“So you’re a time traveling accountant, here to lead me on my path to redemption?" Mohinder began to swallow the tablets, no consideration for how many he was taking just dry swallowing the pink pills like he was consuming candy.
“The pills won’t make me go away, as I said before I am not a hallucination nor do I deal with peoples accounts." Castiel gently took hold of Mohinder’s wrist and seized the drugs away, throwing the container to the floor “The world I’ve come from is not that different from here - there is a New York City but it is not deserted or plagued with disease its bustling with life, humanity still continues but the apocalypse is coming and if we can’t stop it then everyone will be destroyed"
“You remind me of Peter" Mohinder seemed to be at least responding to Castiel now so he let him continue with a slight tilt of his head, he had no idea who Peter was but it seemed important to Mohinder.
“Thinking he had some mission to be humanity’s savior. You know what happened to Peter Petrelli?" Mohinder asked but received just another nod from Castiel to carry on “He dropped the viral then watched as his own brother was ravaged by the disease, two months later he jumped of a building and decided not to fly."
“I was led here, out of all the points in time and space I keep waking up in this city following your path Mohinder" The sounds coming from his own mouth were foreign to him - they reeked of desperation, of despair but Castiel could not help himself. His faith had been tested so many times since meeting the Winchesters, he had learned his brothers were not virtuous beings, he had watched as one of his few friends Uriel had confessed to betraying their own kind in favor of the Morningstar but throughout it all, all the disappointments and confusion had had believed in Dean and now he believed in Mohinder, he had to convince him to help.
“So this is destiny? Because I’m sorry I’m sure you mean well but destiny is a load of nonsense"
He was pleading now, actually close to falling to his knees and begging that this man followed him back to Singers Salvage Yard and with this desperation he realized he couldn’t stay away from speaking the truth about what they would face “There is a virus where I come from, and it is slowly devouring small towns and turning innocent people into wild creatures - possessed with evil. It could obliterate the entire land within a year and with it the Devil - literally Lucifer himself will rise and take control. My mission is not to be a saviour like your friend Peter Petrelli tried to be, it is to help the only man who can stop this destruction achieve his destiny. He is a good man, a righteous man full of good intent but he is consumed with despair, guilt eats away at his soul."
“And you want me to help him? I can barely help myself" Mohinder frowned but Castiel wouldn’t let him walk away again.
“You are resistant to this virus; it could help cure the disease we are facing."
Mohinder sighed sounding less incredulous and more confused “I don’t know"
“You are a scientist correct? Is it not in your very nature to want to help? I can understand your self doubt, it’s the same that consumes Dean Winchester, it’s the same I’ve found myself suffering from more and more lately. It’s incredibly human and it terrifies me" Castiel admitted and it was true all these human emotions he had slowly began to feel were more petrifying than rebelling from Heaven and losing his family, he had no idea how people coped with the rapid change of feelings - love, anger, fear, happiness all in the space of mere minutes hurtling through their mind and dictating their actions and reactions to events.
“I am not a begging man, nor do a take pleasure in using force but if I have to do one of these things to convince you then I will" He continued “Do you really want to spend the rest of your days hiding in this apartment from that man, Sylar I believed you called him? Because he is an evil man, a man that would thrive in the depths of Hell, a man that will in the end grow tired of your cat and mouse game and will end your life"
“You don’t have to lecture me about that creature I know full well what he is capable of!" Mohinder scowled and gently pushed at Castiel’s chest “Who is to say I can even trust you anymore than Sylar? You seem to avoid any real questions about who you are?"
“That is a reasonable enough question, I am Castiel and as I told you I am here to help a man named Dean Winchester " Castiel was certain he could get through to him given time but he could feel himself being pulled back to his own reality, the pull of Dean’s voice echoing in his mind, shouting through Bobby’s house for Castiel. He had to be quick before he left and Mohinder just brushed aside his visit as a dream
“Mohinder I have to go now, but I will be back soon and I hope you will have changed your mind by then"
“And if I don’t?"
“I will keep on visiting you until fate decides otherwise" Castiel felt the dragging of his body through time, could feel the space around him open up and pull him through, Mohinder’s apartment slowly disappearing.
Part Two