The Coming of the End: Part 2
Title: The Coming of the End
Author: Koinaka
Rating: PG 13
Pairing(s)/Character(s):Kurt, Burt, Dean, Sam, Bobby, Castiel, Uriel, Joshua, the Archangels, the demons. Pretty much all of Supernatural, Pairing is Dean/Kurt
Genre: Supernatural!Crossover, AU
Spoilers: All of Season 2 for Glee, After episode 4.09 for Supernatural
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy and Eric Kripke respectively.
Summary: As the battle between heaven and hell begins, the Winchesters gain an unexpected ally.
Warning(s): AU/crossover; Angel!Kurt, Also there's no Anna Milton although this was largely inspired by her character on the show. Timeline has been moved up 2 years.
Word Count: Around 2400 words for this part.
Previous Parts: 1
AN: Wow, so the response I've gotten for this is just amazing! I hadn't expected to update so soon, but here you go! I got most of my information about Raziel from the Wikipedia page, but I did add my own interpretation. I've tried to stick to Supernatural canon as far as angel lore goes with the inclusion of an additional Archangel because Raziel is an archangel albeit within Jewish Mysticism. I am going to try my best to keep Kurt as in character as I can, but please bear with me.
Happy Friday!
The Coming of the End
By Koinaka
In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear.
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie.
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort there.
-Angel, Sarah McLachlan
Chapter Two
Kurt shot out of his bed, gasping for air.
He remembered everything.
He remembered walking in a sun streaked garden speaking with his father.
He remembered the words that his father had spoken and how helpless they had made him feel.
"I am weary, Raziel."
He remembered the look on his father's face-utterly devastated and heartbroken and beneath it all there was something else there, something that spoke of the weight he carried around, the worries, the pains, and the guilt.
He remembered dropping to the ground and resting his head against his father's knees, wetting his robe with his tears as he asked. "What would you have me do, Father?"
He remembered how his heart had ached in the stretch of silence that had followed, how soothing it had felt for his father to run his fingers through his hair, how he had known-had always known-that it would come to this, and yet had always wished it would not be so. Being the bearer of God's secrets was not a position he would wish on his worst enemy.
"I cannot bear the constant fighting between your brothers any longer. I need peace, and I will not find it here."
He remembered weeping in earnest then. "Please, do not leave me, Father. I could not bear to be apart from you."
He remembered the breeze as his Father left, his whispered apology in the wind.
"I am sorry, so sorry…"
He remembered how Heaven had descended into chaos, how his brothers had questioned him.
"Where has He gone, Raziel?"
"Why has He left us?"
"When does He mean to return?"
"Does He mean to return?"
But they knew as well as he that he could not tell them.
He remembered years of aimlessly wandering the earth-years he spent watching over his Father's creations, walking with them, marveling over their complexity, their beauty, and even their flaws, loving them as his Father loved them not because He had commanded it-even though He had-but because they deserved it. For creatures that led such fleeting and often such perilous lives, they had attained a level of faithfulness that even most angels would never attain.
He remembered how alone he felt-always so alone-even when he was surrounded by his Father's creations; how he would stand unseen in the middle of a crowd and close his eyes yearning to feel his Father's presence once again.
He remembered praying for hours and begging his Father to speak to him, to answer him, to return to him; he remembered how hurt-how angry- he was when no reply ever came; he remembered saying every spiteful thing he could think of in his anger-how maybe Lucifer had been right all along because He had abandoned His own children for His new creations. He also remembered asking for forgiveness later when his anger had abated and all he was left with was regret and a weariness that seemed to penetrate down to his very core.
He remembered finally-finally-hearing his Father's voice in his head telling him that he was forgiven, that it was time to go home, time to stop running, because he would be needed in the upcoming years; he remembered how happy he was and yet how unsatisfied he had felt because after going without hearing His voice for such a long time, his words had felt like a tease, like offering only a trickle of water to a man in Hell-at once both refreshing and torturous because it was not enough, would never be enough.
He remembered returning to Heaven and the uproar it caused, the whispers of betrayal he heard, the plotting, the hate.
The betrayal.
He remembered feeling Raphael's sword against the back of his neck, how cold the steel had been, even colder yet his words, his accusations.
"You would choose them over your own brethren… traitor…"
But the last thing he remembered was a flash of light and whispered words on the wind.
"I'm sorry…so sorry."
The basement door opened, jarring him from his memories.
"Everything okay down here, Kurt?"
Kurt let out a breath that he hadn't even realized he had been holding. It was just his dad. His human dad. How strange it was to think those words. It would be difficult, he knew, to reconcile the two parts of himself into one.
He wiped a hand over his face and was surprised when he pulled it back, and it was wet with tears. He quickly wiped the tears away before his dad, who he could hear coming down the stairs, could see. "Fine," he said. "Everything is fine."
But everything was not fine because when his dad turned towards him, he realized two things.
The first being that it was not his dad staring back at him, but a demon.
The second being that he was missing something very vital to an angel-his grace.
"Or," the demon asked conversationally, "should I say, Raziel?"
Kurt's eyes flitted around the basement. There was no way he would be able to escape, the only exit being a tiny window near the ceiling that he would have to climb to reach and that would take precious time, time that he did not have.
"So, you're the keeper of God's secrets… my, my, the things you must know… I'm looking forward to chatting with you. You and I are going to have so much fun together."
He tried, desperately, to think of a way to stop the demon. He was, for all intents and purposes, a human. He needed help, but who could he call on that he could trust? And would he even be able to call on anyone without his grace? He could only hope that this demon had inherited Lucifer's pride because that would give him a little more time to think.
Kurt sneered. "And what makes you think I would talk to you?"
"Oh, you'll talk…one way or another, you'll talk."
"Resorting to violence already? I would say that I expected better from you, but being what you are…well, my expectations are fairly low. In fact, I'm surprised you even have the intelligence to form a proper sentence let alone to discover where I was."
A look of anger crossed the demon's face. "You dare to insult me?"
Kurt shrugged. "That's not an insult-it's just the truth."
His eyes widened when he saw yet another face at the top of the stairs. The man shook his head and put a finger to his lips to indicate that Kurt should remain silent.
The demon took another step toward Kurt. He was now within touching distance of him, but the demon seemed satisfied to just taunt him for the moment.
"Pretty cocky for an angel cut off from his juice. I hear your brothers are looking for you, too. Word on the street is you've got a death sentence on your pretty little head. If I were you, I wouldn't be so quick to make more enemies. My father is a forgiving Lord. Tell us what we need to know, and I'm sure that he will spare you. After all, you're his little brother."
"Lucifer is no lord," Kurt snarled at once. "And he's in no position to offer me anything, now, is he, seeing as how you've yet to break 66 seals."
"Why you-" but the demon was cut off when the man stabbed him in the back with an odd-looking knife.
Lights flickered beneath the demon's face before going out completely, leaving only the familiar face of his dad behind. Kurt made an anguished sound when he fell, lifeless, to the floor.
"You okay?" the man asked as he pulled the knife out of his dad's back and wiped the blood off on the leg of his tattered jeans.
Kurt could only nod, his mind whirling with everything that had happened in such a short span of time.
"Good. My name is Dean, and I'm here to take you somewhere safe."
"Dean Winchester?" Kurt asked.
The man-Dean-nodded. "Yeah, that's me."
Kurt nearly sagged with relief. If he was with Dean, he would be safe. "We should go. If that demon was telling the truth, it won't be long until my brothers discover where I am, if they haven't already, and I'm guessing they won't be very happy to see me."
Dean looked like he wanted to ask why but instead gave him a brisk nod.
Kurt stepped over his dad's body, closing his eyes briefly against the wave of grief that threatened to pull him under. Later-when he was safe-he would mourn Burt Hummel, but for now there was no time. He hurried up the stairs, Dean following behind him. They met up with another man, who introduced himself as Sam, in the living room.
Before they were able to make it to the front door, however, the lights in the living room began to flicker and everything began to rumble.
"It's too late," Dean said. "They're here."
The brothers moved to where they were covering him.
While they were moving into place, Kurt grabbed the knife out of Dean's hands and slit his wrist once more. He was putting the finishing touches on the Banishing Sigil when the door flew open revealing two angels-Castiel and Uriel. Kurt had never met either of them, but from what he had gathered-and what he knew-Uriel and a band of angels were working against the Host of Heaven in an attempt to release Lucifer from his cage.
"Give us the boy," Uriel said at the same time that Castiel said, "Step aside."
"Man, junkless, I had no idea that you swung that way," Dean said. "But, sorry, you're gonna have to get yourself another one."
"Dean," Castiel said, his tone warning. "Step aside."
Dean scoffed. "So you can kill this kid? No way."
"Oh, he is much more than a kid," Uriel said. "He's a traitor."
"Really, Uriel, you think it wise to go there? You would call me a traitor after the things you've done?" Kurt said, cocking his head to the side and looking at the angel in front of him.
Uriel looked alarmed, but only for the briefest of moments. "Enough talking," he said, swinging a fist towards Dean.
Sam turned pleading eyes towards Castiel who was now moving forward. "Cass, please…" the rest of his sentence died on his lips as the angel in question reached out and placed a finger to his forehead, causing him to crumple to the floor.
Castiel locked eyes with Kurt, but before he could do anything else, Kurt leaned over and pressed his still bleeding hand to the Sigil. With a flash, both Castiel and Uriel disappeared.
"What the-" Dean said, his eyes widening as he saw the bloody Sigil on the wall and the blood still pouring from Kurt's arm.
"I sent them away," he told him. "Far away."
Dean bent over to check on his brother, giving Kurt a chance to rush into the kitchen to get a dishtowel to wrap around his wrist. When he came out, Dean was helping Sam to his feet.
"We shouldn't linger. I just bought us some time but not much."
The two brothers nodded, and together the three of them headed outside.
"What did you mean back there? What kinds of things has Uriel been doing?" Dean asked, later, when they had been on the road to South Dakota for several hours. Sam had finally nodded off, leaving Kurt and Dean in a comfortable silence.
"I'm afraid I cannot tell you," Kurt said.
Dean let out an exasperated sigh. "Of course you can't. All you angels are exactly same."
"You misunderstand. It is not a matter of won't-it is a matter of can't. If I had the ability to speak of the things that I know, you-out of everyone, angel or man-would be the only one whom I would speak of them to."
He could see Dean's furrowed brow in the rear-view mirror. "Why?"
"Because out of everyone, you are the most deserving."
Dean made a noise of disbelief. "Yeah, right."
Kurt leaned over the backseat and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. He stiffened at the contact, but Kurt continued. "Because I understand, more than some, what it's like to be completely surrounded by people and yet to still feel utterly alone."
"You don't know anything about me."
His hard and guarded gaze met Kurt's wide and guileless one in the rear-view mirror. "But I do," Kurt said, softly.
Dean squared his jaw and turned the radio up, the sounds of classic rock filling the car.
Sighing, Kurt moved away from him, turning towards the window so that he could watch as the countryside flowed by. It was only then that he allowed himself to feel both the loss of his grace and his human dad. It wasn't until he heard the opening chords of Kansas's "Carry on my wayward son" that he began to cry. It had been one of his dad's favorite songs growing up. As the tears rolled down his cheeks, he sang along softly.
Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man
Though my mind could think I still was a mad man
I hear the voices when I'm dreaming
I can hear them say.
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more
Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claim to be a wise man, well
It surely means that I don't know
On a stormy sea of moving emotion
Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean
I set a course for winds of fortune
But I hear the voices say
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more
Carry on, you will always remember
Carry on, nothing equals the splendor
The center lights around your vanity
But surely heaven waits for you
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry (don't you cry no more)
Author: Koinaka
Rating: PG 13
Pairing(s)/Character(s):Kurt, Burt, Dean, Sam, Bobby, Castiel, Uriel, Joshua, the Archangels, the demons. Pretty much all of Supernatural, Pairing is Dean/Kurt
Genre: Supernatural!Crossover, AU
Spoilers: All of Season 2 for Glee, After episode 4.09 for Supernatural
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy and Eric Kripke respectively.
Summary: As the battle between heaven and hell begins, the Winchesters gain an unexpected ally.
Warning(s): AU/crossover; Angel!Kurt, Also there's no Anna Milton although this was largely inspired by her character on the show. Timeline has been moved up 2 years.
Word Count: Around 2400 words for this part.
Previous Parts: 1
AN: Wow, so the response I've gotten for this is just amazing! I hadn't expected to update so soon, but here you go! I got most of my information about Raziel from the Wikipedia page, but I did add my own interpretation. I've tried to stick to Supernatural canon as far as angel lore goes with the inclusion of an additional Archangel because Raziel is an archangel albeit within Jewish Mysticism. I am going to try my best to keep Kurt as in character as I can, but please bear with me.
Happy Friday!
The Coming of the End
By Koinaka
In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear.
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie.
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort there.
-Angel, Sarah McLachlan
Chapter Two
Kurt shot out of his bed, gasping for air.
He remembered everything.
He remembered walking in a sun streaked garden speaking with his father.
He remembered the words that his father had spoken and how helpless they had made him feel.
"I am weary, Raziel."
He remembered the look on his father's face-utterly devastated and heartbroken and beneath it all there was something else there, something that spoke of the weight he carried around, the worries, the pains, and the guilt.
He remembered dropping to the ground and resting his head against his father's knees, wetting his robe with his tears as he asked. "What would you have me do, Father?"
He remembered how his heart had ached in the stretch of silence that had followed, how soothing it had felt for his father to run his fingers through his hair, how he had known-had always known-that it would come to this, and yet had always wished it would not be so. Being the bearer of God's secrets was not a position he would wish on his worst enemy.
"I cannot bear the constant fighting between your brothers any longer. I need peace, and I will not find it here."
He remembered weeping in earnest then. "Please, do not leave me, Father. I could not bear to be apart from you."
He remembered the breeze as his Father left, his whispered apology in the wind.
"I am sorry, so sorry…"
He remembered how Heaven had descended into chaos, how his brothers had questioned him.
"Where has He gone, Raziel?"
"Why has He left us?"
"When does He mean to return?"
"Does He mean to return?"
But they knew as well as he that he could not tell them.
He remembered years of aimlessly wandering the earth-years he spent watching over his Father's creations, walking with them, marveling over their complexity, their beauty, and even their flaws, loving them as his Father loved them not because He had commanded it-even though He had-but because they deserved it. For creatures that led such fleeting and often such perilous lives, they had attained a level of faithfulness that even most angels would never attain.
He remembered how alone he felt-always so alone-even when he was surrounded by his Father's creations; how he would stand unseen in the middle of a crowd and close his eyes yearning to feel his Father's presence once again.
He remembered praying for hours and begging his Father to speak to him, to answer him, to return to him; he remembered how hurt-how angry- he was when no reply ever came; he remembered saying every spiteful thing he could think of in his anger-how maybe Lucifer had been right all along because He had abandoned His own children for His new creations. He also remembered asking for forgiveness later when his anger had abated and all he was left with was regret and a weariness that seemed to penetrate down to his very core.
He remembered finally-finally-hearing his Father's voice in his head telling him that he was forgiven, that it was time to go home, time to stop running, because he would be needed in the upcoming years; he remembered how happy he was and yet how unsatisfied he had felt because after going without hearing His voice for such a long time, his words had felt like a tease, like offering only a trickle of water to a man in Hell-at once both refreshing and torturous because it was not enough, would never be enough.
He remembered returning to Heaven and the uproar it caused, the whispers of betrayal he heard, the plotting, the hate.
The betrayal.
He remembered feeling Raphael's sword against the back of his neck, how cold the steel had been, even colder yet his words, his accusations.
"You would choose them over your own brethren… traitor…"
But the last thing he remembered was a flash of light and whispered words on the wind.
"I'm sorry…so sorry."
The basement door opened, jarring him from his memories.
"Everything okay down here, Kurt?"
Kurt let out a breath that he hadn't even realized he had been holding. It was just his dad. His human dad. How strange it was to think those words. It would be difficult, he knew, to reconcile the two parts of himself into one.
He wiped a hand over his face and was surprised when he pulled it back, and it was wet with tears. He quickly wiped the tears away before his dad, who he could hear coming down the stairs, could see. "Fine," he said. "Everything is fine."
But everything was not fine because when his dad turned towards him, he realized two things.
The first being that it was not his dad staring back at him, but a demon.
The second being that he was missing something very vital to an angel-his grace.
"Or," the demon asked conversationally, "should I say, Raziel?"
Kurt's eyes flitted around the basement. There was no way he would be able to escape, the only exit being a tiny window near the ceiling that he would have to climb to reach and that would take precious time, time that he did not have.
"So, you're the keeper of God's secrets… my, my, the things you must know… I'm looking forward to chatting with you. You and I are going to have so much fun together."
He tried, desperately, to think of a way to stop the demon. He was, for all intents and purposes, a human. He needed help, but who could he call on that he could trust? And would he even be able to call on anyone without his grace? He could only hope that this demon had inherited Lucifer's pride because that would give him a little more time to think.
Kurt sneered. "And what makes you think I would talk to you?"
"Oh, you'll talk…one way or another, you'll talk."
"Resorting to violence already? I would say that I expected better from you, but being what you are…well, my expectations are fairly low. In fact, I'm surprised you even have the intelligence to form a proper sentence let alone to discover where I was."
A look of anger crossed the demon's face. "You dare to insult me?"
Kurt shrugged. "That's not an insult-it's just the truth."
His eyes widened when he saw yet another face at the top of the stairs. The man shook his head and put a finger to his lips to indicate that Kurt should remain silent.
The demon took another step toward Kurt. He was now within touching distance of him, but the demon seemed satisfied to just taunt him for the moment.
"Pretty cocky for an angel cut off from his juice. I hear your brothers are looking for you, too. Word on the street is you've got a death sentence on your pretty little head. If I were you, I wouldn't be so quick to make more enemies. My father is a forgiving Lord. Tell us what we need to know, and I'm sure that he will spare you. After all, you're his little brother."
"Lucifer is no lord," Kurt snarled at once. "And he's in no position to offer me anything, now, is he, seeing as how you've yet to break 66 seals."
"Why you-" but the demon was cut off when the man stabbed him in the back with an odd-looking knife.
Lights flickered beneath the demon's face before going out completely, leaving only the familiar face of his dad behind. Kurt made an anguished sound when he fell, lifeless, to the floor.
"You okay?" the man asked as he pulled the knife out of his dad's back and wiped the blood off on the leg of his tattered jeans.
Kurt could only nod, his mind whirling with everything that had happened in such a short span of time.
"Good. My name is Dean, and I'm here to take you somewhere safe."
"Dean Winchester?" Kurt asked.
The man-Dean-nodded. "Yeah, that's me."
Kurt nearly sagged with relief. If he was with Dean, he would be safe. "We should go. If that demon was telling the truth, it won't be long until my brothers discover where I am, if they haven't already, and I'm guessing they won't be very happy to see me."
Dean looked like he wanted to ask why but instead gave him a brisk nod.
Kurt stepped over his dad's body, closing his eyes briefly against the wave of grief that threatened to pull him under. Later-when he was safe-he would mourn Burt Hummel, but for now there was no time. He hurried up the stairs, Dean following behind him. They met up with another man, who introduced himself as Sam, in the living room.
Before they were able to make it to the front door, however, the lights in the living room began to flicker and everything began to rumble.
"It's too late," Dean said. "They're here."
The brothers moved to where they were covering him.
While they were moving into place, Kurt grabbed the knife out of Dean's hands and slit his wrist once more. He was putting the finishing touches on the Banishing Sigil when the door flew open revealing two angels-Castiel and Uriel. Kurt had never met either of them, but from what he had gathered-and what he knew-Uriel and a band of angels were working against the Host of Heaven in an attempt to release Lucifer from his cage.
"Give us the boy," Uriel said at the same time that Castiel said, "Step aside."
"Man, junkless, I had no idea that you swung that way," Dean said. "But, sorry, you're gonna have to get yourself another one."
"Dean," Castiel said, his tone warning. "Step aside."
Dean scoffed. "So you can kill this kid? No way."
"Oh, he is much more than a kid," Uriel said. "He's a traitor."
"Really, Uriel, you think it wise to go there? You would call me a traitor after the things you've done?" Kurt said, cocking his head to the side and looking at the angel in front of him.
Uriel looked alarmed, but only for the briefest of moments. "Enough talking," he said, swinging a fist towards Dean.
Sam turned pleading eyes towards Castiel who was now moving forward. "Cass, please…" the rest of his sentence died on his lips as the angel in question reached out and placed a finger to his forehead, causing him to crumple to the floor.
Castiel locked eyes with Kurt, but before he could do anything else, Kurt leaned over and pressed his still bleeding hand to the Sigil. With a flash, both Castiel and Uriel disappeared.
"What the-" Dean said, his eyes widening as he saw the bloody Sigil on the wall and the blood still pouring from Kurt's arm.
"I sent them away," he told him. "Far away."
Dean bent over to check on his brother, giving Kurt a chance to rush into the kitchen to get a dishtowel to wrap around his wrist. When he came out, Dean was helping Sam to his feet.
"We shouldn't linger. I just bought us some time but not much."
The two brothers nodded, and together the three of them headed outside.
"What did you mean back there? What kinds of things has Uriel been doing?" Dean asked, later, when they had been on the road to South Dakota for several hours. Sam had finally nodded off, leaving Kurt and Dean in a comfortable silence.
"I'm afraid I cannot tell you," Kurt said.
Dean let out an exasperated sigh. "Of course you can't. All you angels are exactly same."
"You misunderstand. It is not a matter of won't-it is a matter of can't. If I had the ability to speak of the things that I know, you-out of everyone, angel or man-would be the only one whom I would speak of them to."
He could see Dean's furrowed brow in the rear-view mirror. "Why?"
"Because out of everyone, you are the most deserving."
Dean made a noise of disbelief. "Yeah, right."
Kurt leaned over the backseat and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. He stiffened at the contact, but Kurt continued. "Because I understand, more than some, what it's like to be completely surrounded by people and yet to still feel utterly alone."
"You don't know anything about me."
His hard and guarded gaze met Kurt's wide and guileless one in the rear-view mirror. "But I do," Kurt said, softly.
Dean squared his jaw and turned the radio up, the sounds of classic rock filling the car.
Sighing, Kurt moved away from him, turning towards the window so that he could watch as the countryside flowed by. It was only then that he allowed himself to feel both the loss of his grace and his human dad. It wasn't until he heard the opening chords of Kansas's "Carry on my wayward son" that he began to cry. It had been one of his dad's favorite songs growing up. As the tears rolled down his cheeks, he sang along softly.
Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man
Though my mind could think I still was a mad man
I hear the voices when I'm dreaming
I can hear them say.
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more
Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claim to be a wise man, well
It surely means that I don't know
On a stormy sea of moving emotion
Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean
I set a course for winds of fortune
But I hear the voices say
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more
Carry on, you will always remember
Carry on, nothing equals the splendor
The center lights around your vanity
But surely heaven waits for you
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry (don't you cry no more)