thursdays_angel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thursdays_angel) wrote2012-10-14 06:39 pm
thursdays_angel) wrote2012-10-14 06:39 pm
The Only Thing That Can Kill An Angel Is Another Angel
“Others have joined me, Cas. Now, please, brother. Don’t fight me. Help me. Help me spread the word. Help me bring on the apocalypse. All you have to do is be unafraid.”
“For the first time in a long time, I am.”
And he was. Even with Uriel’s revelations and knowing exactly how deep his brother’s betrayal ran, Castiel had no question or doubt as to what he needed to do, and that made him unafraid.
This was the power of certainty.
Of course, Castiel knew that he had, at best, barely even odds of beating Uriel. Castiel was a soldier, yes. But destruction? Destruction was what Uriel had been built for.
At least he had the element of surprise. Briefly. Little good that it did him.
On his knees on the concrete floor, Castiel looked up through a haze of blood at his brother. And he was sure, in that moment, that he was going to die.
“You can’t win, Uriel. I still serve God.”
“You haven’t even met the man!” Uriel’s voice bled with rage and frustration, as he rained blow after blow down on Castiel’s head. “There is no will. No wrath. No God.”
Then, suddenly, it stopped. Castiel stared in shock at the blade that had erupted from Uriel’s throat.
And at who was wielding it.
“Maybe,” Anna said, “Or maybe not. But there’s still me.”
Uriel’s existence ended in a blaze, which, Castiel would reflect later, was somehow only fitting. Castiel staggered to his feet, looking down at his newly fallen brother.
And then at the sister who had just saved him.
“For the first time in a long time, I am.”
And he was. Even with Uriel’s revelations and knowing exactly how deep his brother’s betrayal ran, Castiel had no question or doubt as to what he needed to do, and that made him unafraid.
This was the power of certainty.
Of course, Castiel knew that he had, at best, barely even odds of beating Uriel. Castiel was a soldier, yes. But destruction? Destruction was what Uriel had been built for.
At least he had the element of surprise. Briefly. Little good that it did him.
On his knees on the concrete floor, Castiel looked up through a haze of blood at his brother. And he was sure, in that moment, that he was going to die.
“You can’t win, Uriel. I still serve God.”
“You haven’t even met the man!” Uriel’s voice bled with rage and frustration, as he rained blow after blow down on Castiel’s head. “There is no will. No wrath. No God.”
Then, suddenly, it stopped. Castiel stared in shock at the blade that had erupted from Uriel’s throat.
And at who was wielding it.
“Maybe,” Anna said, “Or maybe not. But there’s still me.”
Uriel’s existence ended in a blaze, which, Castiel would reflect later, was somehow only fitting. Castiel staggered to his feet, looking down at his newly fallen brother.
And then at the sister who had just saved him.
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"I'm fairly certain this isn't a place we want to be found, Cas."
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And somewhat less than articulate.
"What....? What are you....?"
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"Focus, little brother.
"I can't leave you here."
Whomever turns up yet, no matter where their loyalties lie, at the very least, is going to have some awkward questions.
There's a beat, and then Anna, in a completely conversational tone, asks, "Do you want Chinese?"
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"Why?" he asks (a bit dumbly).
Because, really, he hadn't killed Uriel. And he hadn't been instigating a rebellion in the Garrison. He'll be fine here.
"Chinese what?"
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Anna reaches out and closes her hand around her brother's wrist.
A moment -- or a part of a moment -- later finds them seated on opposites sides of a booth in Fu Wah Restaurant in Rising Sun, Maryland.
"Their spring rolls are very good," Anna says, setting a menu in front of Castiel.
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Piped in music, the smell of ginger and fried dough, paper lanterns, and a Year of the Rabbit place mat. Castiel isn't sure whether to laugh or immediately whisk himself off to the Ukraine just on principle.
"Your timing was coming dangerously close to failing to be Providential," he says, pushing his menu aside.
"Or were you waiting to see if I would compromise myself to save my own life?"
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She looks at her own menu.
"You really should order something. The food's very good, and having brought you here, it's not like I can ever come back, so we might as well enjoy this meal."
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Hey, he's not the most proficient when it comes to popular culture, but even Heaven hadn't missed the Beatles.
Though he does wonder if she'd given him more points for independence if he had sided with Uriel.
Castiel drags his menu back with one finger. "Perhaps there should be tea," he says.
He folds his hands and looks at Anna.
"Why did you step in?" he asks. "Why not just let Uriel finish me off?"
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"Are you sorry I did?"
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He idly twirls the small bottle of soy sauce that's sitting on the table.
"I don't fear dying. But...there are many things now that I would be leaving behind. Responsibilities I still need to fulfill."
Winchesters to shepherd. A war to fight. Even friends, if not on this plane.
"But I am curious as to why you did. And what you would have done had I said yes to Uriel."
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"One or the other of us would be dead in that room.
"I might have Fallen, Castiel, but that doesn't mean I'm on Lucifer's side."
She closes her menu.
"Ready to order?"
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It may seem strange, feeling relieved that your sister would have ended your life for agreeing to join Uriel. But for Castiel, it's good to know, if only vaguely, where Anna's line is.
"Moo shu," he adds, with another glance at his menu.
"How much did you see? Of what happened?" he asks, folding up his menu again.
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She orders lo mein.
And moo shu.
And spring rolls.
And a pot of tea.
"You are going to be treading a mine field."
Out beyond where the fools rush in, even.
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Particularly the bit about how Castiel managed to walk out of the confrontation alive. He's not sure that the truth will be wise in this instance.
"And then there is the matter of those Uriel claimed to have already converted."
If there was one thing they did not need it is a discontented faction in the Garrison.
The blood has stopped flowing from his nose and the cuts on his face, and is beginning to fade away.
"I don't suppose you'd be willing to offer any advice?"
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Beat.
"The truth is out there."
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"Somehow the one would seem to negate the other."
Knowing what is truth and who to trust grows ever more complicated.
"I don't suppose you know where?"
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"This is not a reputable form of prophecy."
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"Hell, I'm not even a disreputable form of prophet."
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But Castiel obligingly opens the cellophane and breaks apart the cookie.
"It's kind of fun to do the impossible."
An eyebrow quirks wryly.
"I'm not certain whether I should be reassured or not."
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Very nice.
There's a slight break in the conversation while plates of food arrive, and then Anna continues.
"So, what are you going to do?"
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He moves the bits of cookie aside to make room for his plate.
"Apparently, I am meant to do the impossible," he says. "Or at the very least, the difficult."
How? Well, that's another hurdle.
"There are discontents in the Garrison. The Winchesters will have lost even more trust in us." In me, is what he really means. "A highly valued soldier has turned traitor and is now dead. And I will need to account for the fact that I am alive."
Yes, this could indeed resemble a last meal.
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One never knows.
"So," Anna repeats, "what are you going to do?
"Beyond the impossible, and more specifically than the difficult?"
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"I assume it will not be worthwhile to ask what you would do in my place?"
Anna may have saved him, but she's apparently not giving advice these days.
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"I'd look good and hard at any orders I received.
"And I'd figure out what really mattered to me, and I'd get ready to fight for it."
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Well, Castiel already feels the need to look over his shoulder. Though he's not sure what he'll do when he thinks he sees a threat there.
And after what has transpired in the last couple of days, he won't be able to help mulling over his orders.
As for the rest...
"I meant what I said to Uriel, you know," he said.
"I serve God. I always will. I can't walk away. I need to fight for what matters to Him."
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"Maybe He's out there, maybe He's not, but I am."
And she'll be keeping an eye on things.
"Make sure it's God you're serving, little brother, and not some middle manager."
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It's one of the very few things right now that he knows with certainty.
"And I will consider that."
Though how he's supposed to tell, he hasn't figured out yet.
"And what will you do? Hunt rogue angels?"
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And then . . .
"Sorry, Cas. Classified information. Need to know. And you don't.
"It's safer for both of us that way."
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He refrains.
"Be careful," is what he opts for instead.
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Beat.
"More tea?"
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They've little to say for the remainder of the meal, but that's all right. The silence manages to be companionable. They finish and depart silently and in the blink of an eye, leaving the waitress to look rather puzzled as to where her two customers went.
But not nearly as puzzled as she looks when she goes to clear the table and sees what she's been left as a tip.