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[strengthcas]

Memento Mori (Chapter One) by strengthcas

Rating: M Pairing: Destiel Word Count: 2,205 Summary: Castiel had known the moment he returned to that post-apocalyptic alternate reality that he was in grave danger. And as he walked across the dirt with his head held high and the stench of ash and death engulfing him with each step, Castiel thought nothing of it. Facing death was nothing new. Putting his life on the line for those he cared about seemed like no issue at all, especially now. Sam and Dean would think otherwise, of course, Castiel knew that as well. Link: Click here.

Castiel had known the moment he returned to that post-apocalyptic alternate reality that he was in grave danger. And as he walked across the dirt with his head held high and the stench of ash and death engulfing him with each step, Castiel thought nothing of it. Facing death was nothing new. Putting his life on the line for those he cared about seemed like no issue at all, especially now. Sam and Dean would think otherwise, of course, Castiel knew that as well.

Which is why he refused to turn around at the sound of Dean’s voice calling his name, thick with disbelief and anger and… grief. His voice even lingered in the air after Sam was able to drag Dean through the doorway and back to their own world. Then it was just Castiel and Lucifer and Crowley’s dead body laying only a few feet away. Another life Castiel was unable to save, despite the fact he wasn’t especially fond of the guy. Still, Crowley had helped them. Had at least made an effort to banish Lucifer to rot in this apocalyptic Earth. And Castiel couldn’t save him.

Seeing Crowley’s lifeless body didn’t deter Castiel, though, and he refused to show any signs of remorse as he advanced toward Lucifer with the angel blade in hand. In just a few minutes, the gateway would close forever. It only took Castiel a few moments to realize that he had two options: kill Lucifer and return to Sam and Dean or keep his brother occupied long enough to lock them both in this eternal Hell and far away from the Winchester’s. Both options would satisfy Castiel. Both options would save Sam and Dean from additional dilemmas concerning the Devil himself and that’s all that mattered.

“We can handle ourselves, Cas,” Dean had told him, his voice slow and calculating, obviously tainted by the alcohol he had been milking for most of the day. This declaration came only a few weeks ago after Castiel insisted he help with the Lucifer problem. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before. Besides, you should be taking care of yourself, all right?”

Castiel had been sitting across from Dean, staring at the table and wishing that Sam hadn’t gone to bed so early. Sam would’ve agreed with Castiel. He never seemed to mind if Castiel was willing to help. Sam treated Castiel like an adult, although Castiel was much older than any of the adults currently residing on Earth. Dean didn’t have to treat him like a child. It only made Castiel feel cold and useless. As if he weren’t thousands of years old.

He knew better than that, though. Castiel knew that Dean was only worried about his safety.

Still, it made Castiel feel insignificant.

For years, he had only managed to let Dean down. Sam, too. Again, and again, Castiel kept failing. Surely that’s what Dean had truly meant. That despite his years of experience, Castiel would only make matters worse. He wasn’t the angel he used to be. He had lost his wings and even his strength and stamina wasn’t up to par. Castiel was an embarrassing excuse for an angel, but at least he was trying.

“I want to help,” Castiel responded firmly, finally pulling his gaze up to meet Dean’s eyes. “You told me we would find a better way and this is a better way. We work better together, you said so yourself.” His brow furrowed then, trying to remember something Dean had said offhandedly. “Team Freewell,” Castiel nodded his head with a fierce determination in his eyes. He wasn’t sure what it meant when Dean had said it or who this ‘Freewell’ person was, back when Castiel had tried, and failed, to return Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx mixtape, but it had seemed to mean something significant to Dean. They were a team, in any case. All three of them.

And then Dean smiled brilliantly and for a brief second, Castiel felt like he could breathe. The hunter set his glass of whiskey down on the table just before he let his head fall back in a fit of laughter. Fleetingly, Castiel wondered just how much Dean had to drink. He would be hurt at the implications of Dean laughing in Castiel’s face about wanting to help but seeing the amusement on Dean’s face was definitely worth it. Castiel didn’t interrupt him. Instead, he sat patiently, waiting for the laughter to die down. For a second, everything seemed to be completely fine.

Even now, if Castiel listened closely, he could hear Dean’s laughter still ringing in his ears.

Dean never offered Castiel an explanation as to what was so funny. And Castiel found it ridiculous that now, as he was progressing on Lucifer, he wished he’d had the courage to ask.

Lucifer was standing only a meter away now, still distracted by Crowley’s death it seemed; something Castiel didn’t want to think too much about. He didn’t have a lot of time and thankfully, his brother was too distracted to put up much a fight as Castiel advanced on him. It was clear now that Castiel needed to harm Lucifer, or at least try to. At least to buy him some time.

He had his angel blade with him; the silver weapon a near weightless object in his hand. Strange how such a simple, triple-edged dagger could cause so much harm to a celestial being. However, despite its powerful capabilities, Castiel didn’t have much faith that it would kill Lucifer. Harm him, of course, but death was out of question. It was no archangel blade, unfortunately, and Lucifer was well aware of that fact.

Castiel could vaguely make out the bullet holes in Lucifer’s jacket; remnants of when Dean had tried to kill Lucifer with those handmade bullets Bobby had mentioned earlier. Frankly, Lucifer didn’t seem wounded at all. But considering that Sam and Dean had managed to make it out of this parallel world in one piece, he, too, might actually be able to make it out alive. All he had to do was hurry.

Lucifer was loosely aware of Castiel’s presence but it was too late. Without wasting another second, Castiel sunk his angel blade deep into Lucifer’s abdomen and watched as his brother’s irises shifted into an angry, red, hue. Lucifer sunk forward, leaning into the blade and glancing down at the weapon in disbelief, as if it had personally offended him.

Which, Castiel figured, it probably did.

For good measure, Castiel pulled the blade out and stabbed his brother once more.

This time, Lucifer’s knees gave out and he fell to the ground. The red in his eyes was more furious than before, but Castiel didn’t have much time react; or to think properly at all. He could feel the air shift around him: a tingling sensation much like electricity pulsing through his bones and screaming at him to hurry up. To move.

The tear in space and time was closing, and Castiel didn’t have much time.

Castiel released the angel blade and spun around to look at the doorway as Lucifer’s body fell to the ground. Lucifer was in pain, a long string of curses leaving his lips as he clutched at his abdomen. The blade was still buried deep inside of him, the flesh around the wound glowing and exposing Lucifer’s angelic grace. If luck was on Castiel’s side, it would allow him just enough time to get through the veil just before it closes, leaving Lucifer wounded and suffering on the ground. On an entirely different world. Safely away from the Winchester’s and Jack, his biological son. Safely away from the world that he had grown to love and protect for thousands of years.

With that in mind, Castiel ran.

Shortly after Castiel’s return from purgatory a few years ago, Sam came to him.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Cas,” He said, and for the first time, Castiel noticed the prominent worry lines between Sam’s eyebrows. Dean had ventured off to the nearest grocery store to buy Sam’s ‘rabbit food’ and Sam had practically shoved Dean out of the door and claimed that after all this time away, he thought Dean would enjoy some alone time with his car. Dean immediately agreed and took off, leaving Sam and Castiel at the Radburry Inn.

Castiel was reading the local newspaper quietly, minding his own business and searching for any possible leads. Naomi had given him strict orders: check in on the Winchester’s and report back with any pertinent information. At the time, Castiel didn’t have much to report back on.

“I mean it. Don’t tell Dean I told you this, but… He thought he was going mad. I thought he was going mad,” Sam continued, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, near Castiel’s chair. Castiel had no choice but to set the newspaper down on the table and give Sam his undivided attention.

“That wasn’t my intention, he knows that. I’m still not entirely sure how I was able to return. Blaming himself won’t help anything.” Castiel sighed, “I’m safe. I’m alive.”

Sam didn’t look convinced, “That’s not what I mean. I mean, yeah, that’s true, but…” Castiel could hear the hesitation in Sam’s voice, and truthfully Castiel was also losing his patience. “Dean was seeing you everywhere. Even before you came back. He couldn’t sleep. He was drinking too much. Still is.”

“I’m not entirely sure what you want me–“

“It reminded me of when I lost Jess.”

Castiel didn’t want to put Dean through that again. It was torturous years ago, and surely it would be torturous now. Sam didn’t go into depth about his visions of Jess, but Sam didn’t need to. The problem with Dean was that he just cared a little too much. The problem with Dean was that he kept it all bottled inside.

Running has always seemed like a useless human activity. Up until Castiel was human himself, he never thought much of it. Of course, physical fitness was imperative, but Castiel didn’t need it. He was always healthy. Had always been able to heal himself should he get hurt. In a human vessel, Castiel didn’t even age. It was something he took for granted.

Especially now, as he felt the rippling electricity deep beneath his skin, urging him to go faster. Castiel was fast. Or, rather, his vessel was pretty fast. If he still had his wings, though, he’d fly.

He didn’t dare turn around for fear of wasting precious time. Lucifer’s wounds were horrendous and Castiel prayed, for the first time in a long time, that it would be enough. God didn’t respond, though. And neither did the other angels. In fact, Castiel didn’t hear anything on the angel radio. Nothing but the soft chattering of rogue angels from this apocalyptic universe. Offhandedly, Castiel thought that he wouldn’t be able to reach God. Not his God, at least. Not Chuck.

It didn’t matter, though. Castiel was close. And thankfully, he couldn’t hear any movement behind him. He needed this. He needed to prove to Dean that he could come back with a win, something that would portray just how valuable he was. After everything that they had been through, Castiel knew that if he could just succeed in this one thing, it might change Dean’s view of him.

And Castiel thought, long and hard about Dean’s smile. About how vibrant and stress-free it was. How it seemed to take years off of Dean’s age. He used that image as motivation to push forward and reach out toward the gateway.

Darkness shrouded him.

In an instant, Castiel could hear the sound of water lapping at the shore and he could feel a gentle breeze brush against his skin and ruffle his hair, calm and reassuring. Sam and Dean were standing in front of him, both appearing desperately relieved to see Castiel alive and unharmed. Sam’s worry lines softened and Dean’s shoulder’s relaxed. And not for the first time, Castiel thought that this was all he needed.

“Cas.” Sam breathed out with a small smile resting on his face.

Castiel’s relief only lasted a second.

It was the sharp, searing pain that pulled Castiel back to reality. He didn’t have enough time to react. It would’ve been too late, anyway. Every ounce of grace that flowed through his veins felt as though it was on fire, a poison that was quickly tearing him apart from the inside out.

Castiel knew instantly that he failed and his first thought was that he’d never get the chance to properly ask Dean what was so funny all those days ago. He’d never get the chance to hear his laughter again or watch as his head fell back with the intensity of it.

Desperately, Castiel reached out for that memory. If anything, at least he’d be comforted by the sweet sound of Dean’s voice and his laughter. Please, God.

But the pain was too overwhelming.

Dean’s blood-curdling cry was the last thing he heard.

#destiel #thespngraphicmakersnet #spnoriginalcontentnet #destiel ficlet #destiel fanfiction #my stuff #my writing #so i had this idea for a fic for a long time and i finally started working on it #i'm not good a summaries but i hope you get the idea lol #comments and critiques are welcome and encouraged #fjfdslkfjsdlkfjdsl #also i'm still working on my writing skills so eyah #also if you're not caught up on season 12 don't read sorry lol #season 12