Still not in Fandom, still not April 2010
Apr. 28th, 2010 04:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scruffnfeathersThe first clue Castiel got that Sam and Dean might not be up against a traditional trickster spirit was walking in on them in the midst of a Japanese Game Show.
Tricksters were powerful, sure, but to maintain that level of illusion?
The second hint he got was when he went to get them out of there and found himself zapped to --
Well.
Let's just say it wasn't a pretty place that he ended up, and that it took him far too long to worm his way out of it. He was tempted to skip going back to get the brothers and instead aim back for Fandom -- or whatever might pass for Fandom in this universe -- but there was an apocalypse to avert, and as much as he might long for the now seeming idyllic days of only having to worry about being confused over the existence of a monkey-pony, it was his duty to help this emotionally wrecked, totally screwed Sam and Dean avert it. So instead he aimed up and soon found himself swinging in the door of an impossibly brightly colored motel room, where Sam and Dean tried not to look terrified before a live studio audience.
"You okay?" asked Dean.
Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the inane question. "I don't have much time."
Sam, at least, seemed willing to get to the point. "What happened?"
"I got out."
"From where?" asked Dean. It was a good question. Unfortunately, not one Castiel felt they had time for.
"Listen to me. Something is not right. This thing is much more powerful than it should be."
"What thing —- the Trickster?"
Castiel suppressed a shudder. "If it is a trickster."
"What do you mean?"
Before Castiel could answer Sam's question, he felt a familiar power lift him up and throw him against the wall. Any warning or answer he might try to give was blocked by something covering his mouth. He pushed himself up and looked to the door when the Trickster's voice rang out.
Yep. Definitely not a Trickster.
Gabriel.
And then he was gone again, fighting against -- well, it's best not to think to hard about where he ended up or what he fought against, but it was needlessly cruel and Castiel was totally never forgiving his brother for sticking him there.
Stupid archangels. They only ever thought about each other, never bothered to wonder about all their other brothers and sisters who kept having to clean up after them.
Of course, Lucifer was worse. And not just because Castiel managed to get mildly intoxicated the night before he ran into him. Mind you, Lucifer didn't throw him into -- again, best not to think to hard about where Gabriel tossed him -- no, instead he just went with trapping Castiel in a ring of holy fire and then monologuing at him. Pretending to like him. He was slick and oily and kinda gross looking on the side of his forehead and Chuck would not approve of his outfit. Oh, and he was trying to take over Sam and control the world. Chuck probably wouldn't approve much of that, either.
Still, Lucifer did something no angel had tried with Castiel, before. He showed sympathy. Compassion. If he weren't, you know, Lucifer, Castiel might have even liked him.
"Castiel," he said. It wasn't the first time he used Castiel's name. Not Cass, not "bro", but his full, proper name. "I don't understand why you're fighting me, of all the angels."
"You really have to ask?"
"I rebelled, I was cast out. You rebelled, you were cast out. Almost all of heaven wants to see me dead, and if they succeed, guess what? You're their new public enemy number one. We're on the same side, like it or not, so why not just serve your own best interests? Which in this case just happen to be mine?"
Castiel wasn't made to serve his own best interests. "I'll die first."
Lucifer nodded. "I suppose you will."
In the end, like all the other ends, Castiel managed to get out. Sometimes he found his own way, clawing and pulling. Sometimes he grabbed by the power of his brothers or his father and placed where he needed to be. Sometimes, as with Fandom, he was just . . . there.
This time he pushed a demon onto the holy fire. It wasn't the most elegant of his escape methods.
Still, Lucifer had done his job. Ellen and Jo were dead. Death was risen. The Colt was useless, Dean was injured, and Sam looked like he might fall apart at any moment. Lucifer stood in the middle of the field, looking triumphant, and Castiel found for the first time that he hated his brother. Not just what his brother stood for, not just how his brother rebelled, but him, personally. If he had the power he would end him then and there.
But he couldn't. And he couldn't run. And he couldn't -- yet -- find his father to fix things. So he did the one thing he could do: he got Sam and Dean out of there.
If the world had a hope, Castiel had to believe it was in them. Failure wasn't an option.
And when it was over, well. Maybe, just maybe, his father would let him go back to the world where John Winchester was happily remarried and Sam and Dean had friends and faith and hope. It was, for all his worry about the fate of his own world, where Castiel had finally come to feel he belonged.
He just had to make sure they all survived, first. And then maybe he could go . . . home.
[ooc: wow, that got shmoopy. NFB due to distance, dialog from 5x08 and 5x10, yadda yadda.]
Tricksters were powerful, sure, but to maintain that level of illusion?
The second hint he got was when he went to get them out of there and found himself zapped to --
Well.
Let's just say it wasn't a pretty place that he ended up, and that it took him far too long to worm his way out of it. He was tempted to skip going back to get the brothers and instead aim back for Fandom -- or whatever might pass for Fandom in this universe -- but there was an apocalypse to avert, and as much as he might long for the now seeming idyllic days of only having to worry about being confused over the existence of a monkey-pony, it was his duty to help this emotionally wrecked, totally screwed Sam and Dean avert it. So instead he aimed up and soon found himself swinging in the door of an impossibly brightly colored motel room, where Sam and Dean tried not to look terrified before a live studio audience.
"You okay?" asked Dean.
Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the inane question. "I don't have much time."
Sam, at least, seemed willing to get to the point. "What happened?"
"I got out."
"From where?" asked Dean. It was a good question. Unfortunately, not one Castiel felt they had time for.
"Listen to me. Something is not right. This thing is much more powerful than it should be."
"What thing —- the Trickster?"
Castiel suppressed a shudder. "If it is a trickster."
"What do you mean?"
Before Castiel could answer Sam's question, he felt a familiar power lift him up and throw him against the wall. Any warning or answer he might try to give was blocked by something covering his mouth. He pushed himself up and looked to the door when the Trickster's voice rang out.
Yep. Definitely not a Trickster.
Gabriel.
And then he was gone again, fighting against -- well, it's best not to think to hard about where he ended up or what he fought against, but it was needlessly cruel and Castiel was totally never forgiving his brother for sticking him there.
Stupid archangels. They only ever thought about each other, never bothered to wonder about all their other brothers and sisters who kept having to clean up after them.
Of course, Lucifer was worse. And not just because Castiel managed to get mildly intoxicated the night before he ran into him. Mind you, Lucifer didn't throw him into -- again, best not to think to hard about where Gabriel tossed him -- no, instead he just went with trapping Castiel in a ring of holy fire and then monologuing at him. Pretending to like him. He was slick and oily and kinda gross looking on the side of his forehead and Chuck would not approve of his outfit. Oh, and he was trying to take over Sam and control the world. Chuck probably wouldn't approve much of that, either.
Still, Lucifer did something no angel had tried with Castiel, before. He showed sympathy. Compassion. If he weren't, you know, Lucifer, Castiel might have even liked him.
"Castiel," he said. It wasn't the first time he used Castiel's name. Not Cass, not "bro", but his full, proper name. "I don't understand why you're fighting me, of all the angels."
"You really have to ask?"
"I rebelled, I was cast out. You rebelled, you were cast out. Almost all of heaven wants to see me dead, and if they succeed, guess what? You're their new public enemy number one. We're on the same side, like it or not, so why not just serve your own best interests? Which in this case just happen to be mine?"
Castiel wasn't made to serve his own best interests. "I'll die first."
Lucifer nodded. "I suppose you will."
In the end, like all the other ends, Castiel managed to get out. Sometimes he found his own way, clawing and pulling. Sometimes he grabbed by the power of his brothers or his father and placed where he needed to be. Sometimes, as with Fandom, he was just . . . there.
This time he pushed a demon onto the holy fire. It wasn't the most elegant of his escape methods.
Still, Lucifer had done his job. Ellen and Jo were dead. Death was risen. The Colt was useless, Dean was injured, and Sam looked like he might fall apart at any moment. Lucifer stood in the middle of the field, looking triumphant, and Castiel found for the first time that he hated his brother. Not just what his brother stood for, not just how his brother rebelled, but him, personally. If he had the power he would end him then and there.
But he couldn't. And he couldn't run. And he couldn't -- yet -- find his father to fix things. So he did the one thing he could do: he got Sam and Dean out of there.
If the world had a hope, Castiel had to believe it was in them. Failure wasn't an option.
And when it was over, well. Maybe, just maybe, his father would let him go back to the world where John Winchester was happily remarried and Sam and Dean had friends and faith and hope. It was, for all his worry about the fate of his own world, where Castiel had finally come to feel he belonged.
He just had to make sure they all survived, first. And then maybe he could go . . . home.
[ooc: wow, that got shmoopy. NFB due to distance, dialog from 5x08 and 5x10, yadda yadda.]
