Chapter 8: The Book of Castiel
Wen retrieved the portable radio she’d borrowed from garage and placed it on the kitchen bench. The storm interfered with the reception but it was still company. She stood in the cabin doorway looking out over the lake. The rain had started falling heavily and the Winchesters had moved up from the lake bank to the porch around the bathroom. Absently, Wen traced the carving above the door. Her fingers played over John W and she remembered the first time she had met him.
***
She’d been sitting in the, then ruined, cabin writing down whatever dream or nightmare had plagued her the night before. There was a cracking of forest litter that told her somebody, or some animal, was close. Wen kept still and hoped it was a deer, she liked to draw them. To her surprise and equal annoyance, it was a man.
He waved. Wen half waved back, then regretted it, because he came over to talk to her. He asked her about the cabin. She asked him what he was doing here because most people kept to the marked trails. He just smiled and said he didn’t like following trails. He said his name was John and they began to talk. He had a soothing voice. The sun was warm and Wen remembered she leant back against the remains of the back wall and closed her eyes. Soon, she was dreaming and this dream was about heaven.
***
There was a lightning flash and a burst of thunder that rattled the windows of the cabin. Shaken from her reverie, Wen went back inside and started searching through her many journals. Trying to find the one she’d written down that dream. The entry was smudged but still readable.
… I flew together with my brothers and sisters and all was wonder and delight. I could move through space and time at the speed of thought and always, always was I surrounded by love. I sang alongside my brethren in praise of our father and our voices lifted and echoed through the universe as a whale song echoes through the sea. I walked along a shoreline, watching a little grey fish heave itself up on the beach and an older brother saying, “Don’t step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish,.”
…I have seen violent battles, maelstroms and meteor showers. I remember the cacophony of anguished voices and skies blackened with falling angels. My brothers and sisters lost because of The Morning Star’s rebellion. I have seen the life and wonder of a thousand ancient cultures and faiths. Blessings place upon the worthy and wrathful justice metered out to the wicked…
…I have hovered above the earth, as the Aurora Borealis, and bestowed blessings of love upon the lovers who gazed heavenwards…
… Those who are born on a Thursday, who marry, or find their true love, on a Thursday and, of course, those who die and are welcomed to heaven on a Thursday… For all these souls I have been known as Castiel, an Angel of Thursday and I am one of many who work for the glory of God.
***
There was movement from the bed and Wen looked over, expecting to see Castiel awake and sitting up, but he had only changed positions and was now lying on his side facing the kitchen side of the cabin. The radio crackled and burst into clarity with a weather report. Apparently, unpredictable weather patterns were being witnessed across the globe. There had been no reported loss of life but emergency services were on high alert and several major airports had been closed causing travel chaos.
“Well, that doesn’t sound like your Ariel has things under control, does it?” Dean drawled coming into the cabin followed by Sam. They were both drenched. Dean looked over towards Cas and asked, “Any change?”
“No.” They had startled her and she knocked several of the journals to the ground, including the one she’d been reading from. “I have to go back to work. Will you be staying?”
“For the moment,” Dean said. Wen shrugged indifferently and left. She found it uncomfortable to be around the two men.
The Winchesters being real men and not fictive characters had ruined her enjoyment of the “Supernatural” books. Now that she knew that they had been written by a prophet like herself, she wanted to ring and speak with Chuck Shirley. To see if he had heard anything about Castiel’s fate, because, apart from knowing he was to stand trial, God hadn’t revealed the trial’s outcome to her.
Sam and Dean grabbed their gear from the car and bought it into the cabin. Habit made them salt the doorways and put up protective wards on all walls. They changed cloths and hung those wet in front of the fire to dry. Dean rifled through the kitchen supplies and found a couple of packets of Cup-a-soup. He put the kettle on to boil, stoked the fire and then sat back down at the table.
Sam had been doing some rifling of his own while Dean was on kitchen duty. Picking up the papers Wen had knocked to the floor, he’d found the journal she’d been reading. “Listen to this,” he said and started reading aloud.
part two