[psl] and i've been taking chances

[freewill]

[It's painful in a way that Castiel can hardly describe, the way that his body is pulled apart and literally reduced to nothing. Each atom splits apart and he can almost feel that, but it's more than just physical. His Grace is splintering too, his wings shredded to bits, and it's bloodier than any angel's death should be.

This isn't the first time, of course, but this time Lucifer is responsible. And that makes it ten times worse.

But the pain, in reality, only lasts for a second (maybe less), even if it also feels like an eternity, like longer than he's lived. He feels lungs that are no longer there fill up with air, and understands, suddenly, that he's somewhere else.

He's moved on. It's a question every angel has asked for millenia: where do they go after death? Angels aren't supposed to die. If all went well, they would be eternal, and yet things never work out the way they're intended to. So many of his siblings have fallen. Has he joined them?

Slowly, cautiously, Castiel opens his eyes, not quite understanding why he still feels as if he's in some sort of human form.]

Comments

[affictitious]

[It's funny sometimes, how right the devil is about everything. That's what makes him so dangerous - the dick knows what he's talking about. That's where the enticing and the seduction come in, why most people never even know they're being seduced. He was right that humanity took the place as God's favorite, that this was something that felt wrong.

Worse yet, worse than being second best, is that death was kinder to humans.

Angels don't worry about death. It exists for them, but they don't waste time (eternity) pondering it. Gabriel doesn't know what he expected, if anything; he figured, at the very least, he wouldn't care. Humans are filled with a sort of blissful apathy. They care for themselves, indulge in what they love, without a second spent for their regrets. No one has regrets in Heaven.

But Heaven is not where he is, and Gabriel is full of them. Would killing his brother have changed anything? Maybe. Would he have done it if it had? No. Even now, he knows he couldn't kill his brother. Love got in the way of everything. He couldn't even save himself for want to drown in it.

When Castiel opens his eyes, it's not into the smiling guile of the Trickster. It's the human face he borrowed, no Grace shining out from under it - why would he have it when it had been destroyed? - and its brows are furrowed. There's a flicker every so often of a holy light, a fire that cannot be put out in his being, but his Grace, if it exists at all anymore, is a sad and crippled skeleton. Castiel is on the ground in imperceptible space, and imperceptible space looks a lot like southern Florida.

To ease his brother in.

Castiel's on the hardwood of a seaside cabana, and his older brother is squatting next to him with a little pink paper umbrella being twirled back and forth between his thumb and forefinger.]

Wish I could say it's good to see you again, kiddo.

[freewill]

[Not in some sort of human form, then, but in human form. Castiel finds himself staring into the eyes of someone oddly familiar: Gabriel, or rather, Gabriel's vessel. As he sits up on the wooden floor and takes in the beach-like surroundings, he realizes that he's still in Jimmy Novak's body. Or that's how his deadened mind is perceiving it, at least.

He's surprised, because part of him had felt that when he died it would be over, darkness, nothing. A loss of awareness that honestly would have been more frightening than what he's facing now, except that he wouldn't have even realized it was taking place.

But Gabriel, why is Gabriel here? Because they both lost their lives to their fallen brother? Castiel blinks rapidly a few times, trying to gather his thoughts as it sinks in just how bizarre this really is.]

Gabriel. [He tries to push himself up to his feet, but ends up floundering in place more than anything.] Is this... what is this?

[affictitious]

[If only the kid knew. Gabriel figures a beach is nicer than nothing. It's not like all angels are powerful enough - or bored enough - to go black hole hopping. They don't remember what it's like for nothing to exist.]

I can't tell you. [Whether it's literally because he can't - as if he doesn't know - or because he doesn't want to, there's no indication either way.]

Looks like you don't learn easy, Castiel. You should've known going up against Lucifer was going to get your ass blown up.

[freewill]

I did know. I knew exactly--

[But Castiel isn't even allowed to finish his sentence, because suddenly there's this swelling sensation, like his body is filling up and becoming whole once again, and when he blinks his eyes--

He's alive again, leaving the warm wooden planks in the beachside setting vacant. He's been pulled back to the world of the living, by a force that neither of them has been able to admit to.]

[affictitious]

[Of course. Gabriel's face doesn't fold as he takes in knowledge he practically already knew: that of all his brothers, the little angel that could was the one that showed them all up. The grunt who'd never been much, just another soldier in an army of billions.

It's poetic as hell.

And somehow, inexplicably, he's become the favorite. Gabriel manages an enthusiastic wave before his brother vanishes and he's left alone again in sequestered nothing. There's nowhere for the blame to fall to, no force that will step up and admit to bringing Castiel to life.]

[freewill]

[After that brief encounter, Castiel doesn't let it surface in his mind all that often. He knows he saw something he wasn't necessarily meant to see, and as far as he's aware there's no way back.

That's how he handles it at first, at least. He realizes he should feel ashamed that he only starts seriously considering how to get to Gabriel when he needs his brother's help, but that's because things have finally become that dire.

He's in over his head, and he knows that. To think that there was a time when all he did was follow orders and carry out tasks. Now he's taking on all of Heaven for the sake of ideals that he learned from humans, and he can't say he regrets it despite how far he's fallen. But Castiel realizes that he's facing an archangel, and as much power as he's gained recently, he isn't at that level.

Michael and Lucifer are obviously out of the question, so that only leaves Gabriel. And it's not something Castiel would have even thought about had it not been for that one, small moment when they'd exchanged words in that place beyond death.

He realizes that the very idea of trying to bring an angel back to life is ludicrous, but Castiel also realizes that he's proof of its possibility. He knows that he's no God, but he's crossed over between life and death enough times that he might just be able to replicate it.

The idea he comes up with is a reckless one, and he can only imagine the words others would say to warn him away from it. Of course, Dean's voice is always the one that rings loudest through his head: What are you, crazy? That whole dying for siblings gig is overrated, believe me. But if this goes right, both of them will be coming back. That's what gives him the conviction to go through with it.

Castiel's scoped out a warehouse that's completely abandoned, one with blacked out windows, as the spot to perform the ritual. He's studied the symbols over and over, knows where to carve and where to slice and where to stab. Slowly but surely, he goes through the painstaking process of cutting into his vessel, ignoring the way that his Grace shines through with each slice of the blade. Even as he's draining his own essence, he's also tying his Grace down, so he'll have a body to return to.

Once all of the preparations are made and his vessel is just about at its limit, Castiel raises his blade and plunges it deep into his chest, through his heart. Which is how he goes tumbling into that great beyond for the third time.]

[affictitious]

[It's an intangible place Gabriel resides in - he's still trying to work out the kinks of just what kind of limbo is malleable enough for him to change it - but maybe, he figures, the Old Man might've taken pity on him for that last-ditch sacrifice and carved him out a private piece of pseudo-Heaven. Whatever the place is, sometimes he gets to poke a little hole in the bubble and look out. He doesn't see, really, it's kind of a shy touch that brushes his Grace and whispers what's going on out there. The universe, maybe, or just Earth. Or Heaven.

It's chaos. That's all that seeps in.

And that's how he can tell something different is happening. It might be chaos, but universal chaos is a little organized; compartmentalized.

Gabriel catches it - this little broken piece that stumbles into his nook. Somehow it doesn't surprise him that it's Castiel, insubstantial and glowing, shoved into a human shape because Gabriel is nostalgic for humanity.]

We've gotta stop meeting like this, bro. You're turning into a damsel.

[freewill]

[Even as he makes it through, Castiel knows that he hasn't crossed all the way. This is temporary, and he can tell that part of his Grace is still back there, in that world of the living. When he appears, he's somewhat see-through, his wings only barely visible.

Gabriel greets him as expected, but Castiel isn't interested in small talk. (Not that he ever is, but even less so this time around.) He forces himself forward, reaching out for Gabriel -- or the image of him, at least.]

It's more like the other way around, this time. You need to come back with me.

[He tries to catch hold of Gabriel's Grace, realizing he needs to carry every bit of it back with him if they're going to return.]

[affictitious]

[The thing about Graces? They're kind of personal. And maybe it says everything about Gabriel that he's tried to hide behind that bony-faced, high-smiling mask of his - that he loves his family more than any freaking thing that exists, and somehow only the Winchesters have ever wrangled that out of him - because he doesn't try to pull away from his brother's insubstantial touch. It moves past the facade he has which is just flesh and bone, brushing the core that, for all intents and purposes, acts like a soul.

He does hesitate, though, and that hesitation grounds him more firmly in his death, his little nook of nothingness. Not for himself, and not because he doesn't want to leave.]

The hell are you doing, Castiel? You're going to rip yourself apart.

[And he means that literally. Grunts don't do this - and even now, he can't help but look down on his baby brother, even as he's crawled out from the rough and shown them all up. Grunts can't carry the weight of a dead archangel on wings that are like a fly's in comparison.]

[freewill]

[He feels the resistance almost immediately, and the representation of him frowns as a result. Gabriel shouldn't be doing this -- they don't have time, and he only has one chance. If he fails this time, trying it again will be too risky. He really will rip himself apart in that case.]

The damage has already been done. I'm here, aren't I? If you don't come, it will all have been a waste.

[That should be enough to convince Gabriel, or so he hopes. The fact that he went this far should make it clear that the situation is a dire one, and there isn't any time for hesitation. His Grace reaches out again, trying to enfold Gabriel's more expansive one as best as it can.]

I'm... stronger than I used to be. When I was revived after the last time, it was with added power. [It's one more reassurance to prove that he can do this, that Gabriel can have faith in one of his siblings for once. Castiel isn't bringing him back to a good situation, but it's got to be better than this nowhere land.]

[affictitious]

[A waste. He wants to laugh at that, because what hasn't been a waste? He figures, if anything, he's the only angel that's learned his lesson. Sure, it took death to figure it out, but he got it. Fate and all that. No free will. Not around here, bucko.

You know what? He's not questioning it. Not this time. He figures - hell, doesn't he owe Castiel a little? And this hole, while not altogether a shit one, isn't a picnic. He just imagines it is, shapes it a little, makes it a little less blank and boring.

(And he misses his brothers.)]

Beam up us, kiddo. [He closes his not-eyes, draws the nothingness out of them and allows the intrusion. It's probably the most intimate freaking thing angels can do, and this is coming from a guy who's bagged thousands of chicks. He feels Castiel in him, around him, and yeah, there's something more there.

It's familiar. Family, huh. Little grunt got a promotion.]

[freewill]

[Though while Castiel's Grace is certainly stronger, there's still that sense that it belongs to him, that it's the same essence it's always been. Because as much as he's been changed by his rebellion and by his exposure to humans, there are some things that can never be altered. To other angels, he still feels the same.

As does Gabriel, of course. Right now the archangel's Grace comes across as weakened and insubstantial, but if Castiel drags him back across the curtain, he'll have returned to his former strength. That's the hope, at least.

Once Gabriel accepts him, it's much easier to pull him close, and then Castiel figuratively holds his breath as he tosses both of them back toward where he came from, where that part of his Grace that he pinned down is waiting for him.

As they travel backward, Gabriel's Grace starts to grow empowered, starts to burn, and every instinct is telling Castiel to release it. But he's good at fighting instincts, and he holds tight until they resurface in the world of the living once more.

Which puts him in that warehouse, his body still wounded from the ritual, flat on the floor and gasping for breath. But there's a presence near him, and he realizes he's been successful.]

[affictitious]

[There's the perceptible feeling of movements, crossing over, maybe the kind of thing human souls feel before their ghostdom. He's not a master of the supernatural, all right? He gets holy ghosts, that's about it.

He feels his fractured, broken Grace reforming. Now that. That he recognizes; pieces once stripped made whole again. They hit earth and he stretches; not only does he fill the warehouse (almost looks familiar, this warehouse) but he moves out of it, past these walls to his full height, his little human vessel only rolling his shoulders with a familiar grin on his face. Whole. This is all about being alive, whole and himself. What the hell, man. There's nothing freaking better. His wings unfurl, hot and burning the air around them, and the familiar warmth boils in his fingers, under his human skin and flesh and bone.

Gabriel hops to his brother and pulls him to his feet with a strong grip, testing Castiel's Grace with his own with a gentle brush. It's still there, not broken. A little weak. Well, he can fix that.

Proverbial holy tape, and Castiel's Grace is all patched up. The blood flows back in his vessel, the wounds gone. Call it a thank you.]

You are one severely moronic angel, Castiel. No wonder you run with the Winchesters.

[freewill]

[At first, Castiel turns over on the floor to see Gabriel, back on Earth and fully-formed, with his own eyes. His wings are almost so bright that it's hard for him to look straight at them, but Castiel doesn't turn away.

Before long, he's been pulled to his feet, and for a moment all he can do is stumble against Gabriel uselessly until he's healed. Which hits him so suddenly that it's a shock, and he stumbles back away from his brother and finds that all of that disorientation and weakness is gone.

It's no surprise that Gabriel's starting with the judgment already, and Castiel sighs and shake his head. He could make some comment about how Gabriel shouldn't complain when he just successfully brought him back from the dead, but that's not completely valid when he's done so for somewhat selfish reasons.]

It looks like that went better than expected. How do you feel? [Gabriel looks perfectly fine, but Castiel wants to make sure. Any number of things could have gone wrong, after all.]