Let the Future Be Unspoken 4a

[spiceblueeyes]

Title: Let the Future Be Unspoken
Fandom: Supernatural
Artist: dhfreak 
Author: Spiceblueeyes
Rating: R
Word Count: 8,591
Summary: After 5.04, Cas survives the assault on Lucifer. What happens to him now?
Warnings: Major spoilers for 5.04 ‘The End’ and also warnings for character death and themes of suicide. Not happy stuff.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural at all. Not even a little.
Link to Master Art Post: Is Here!
Link to Master Fic Post: Here

                          

  Chuck went quickly. The infection spread and Cas stayed by his side holding a t-shirt soaked in water to his forehead, cooling him down. Chuck wasn’t the first person Cas had looked after, easing them into death. It never got any easier, especially with the knowledge that he once had the power to heal people.

                They didn’t talk much, Chuck’s descent into unconsciousness was swift, and there wasn’t really anything to say anyway. Things were the way they were, and that’s the way it went.

                Chuck died two days later, and as Cas lit his pyre, he recited quietly. “The time has come for judging the dead, and for…” he paused a moment, but when he continued his voice did not shake. “…Rewarding your servants the prophets and your people who revere your name, both great and small.. and for destroying those who destroy the earth.*” Cas’ eyes narrowed. He was the only one left who could fight; it was up to him now.

                The Lord’s Prophet was now dead, and there was no one to say, anymore, that the future was set. With the death of a prophet, free will once again comes into play. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to change things. So Cas watched the flames snap and flicker, consuming the body of yet another friend.  He watched, and planned.

               Once he’d salted and buried Chuck’s burnt remains, he made his way back to the empty camp. He rummaged through what used to be his cabin, looking for anything that might have survived. Unlike last time he wasn’t looking for survival supplies, this time he needed different things. He found a candle, partially melted buried under debris. There was chalk in a scorched tin box hiding under what used to be his dresser drawer. More would have been helpful, but he had the basics, he was ready.

               The tires had been slashed on all the vehicles, so Cas had to walk. It was a long walk; it took him three days to get to the fence around the city. Three days of sleeping on the hard ground with only his balled up jacket as comfort. When he got to the city, a sign declared the area off limits: Croatoan infected zone. Cas slipped through a hole that had been cut in the fence easily. He headed toward that old hotel, the one where Dean, and the rest of them, had died. Where the best of them, bravest warriors and strongest survivors, had died.

He made his way quickly to the courtyard, where he could still feel remnants of Zachariah’s power. They were faint, but there. He cleared a place on the ground, sweeping leaves and dirt from the tile that was under it. He used the chalk to draw Enochian summoning symbols, white lines drawn carefully on the dark tile.

            Cas had lost all of the powers he’d once had as an angel, but not the knowledge. It was how he’d recognized the Dean from the past instantly. He’d used his knowledge to help in the fight against the apocalypse, and then to help survive. Now, he would use it to make things right. This wasn’t the way the world was supposed to be, this wasn’t what his Father would want. He could fix it, with Zachariah’s help.

                 Cas set the candle in the center of the sigil, and lit it with a match. Then he spoke, the ancient language of the angels, words that were not recorded anywhere on earth. He spoke and summoned Zachariah. Then he waited.

                It took two hours before Zachariah showed up. He didn’t look very happy about it either. The familiar face of Zachariah’s vessel looked around the courtyard, confused and angry. When he spotted Cas his eyes narrowed. “Castiel. Why did you summon me here, to this time?”

                Cas stood from where he’d been sitting on the ground. “I need you to take me back, to your time.”  He said, not wasting time on pleasantries when he and Zachariah hadn’t been on good terms for a long time.

                Zachariah smirked, “Why would I do that?”

                “Because I can help you.” Cas replied. “I can get you what you want.”

                “You can make Dean say yes to Michael?” Zachariah was skeptical, his eyebrows raised.

                Cas shook his head. “No, no one can. But I can kill Sam Winchester.”

                “Lucifer’s true vessel.” Zachariah said. His head tilted, as if considering the option. “We’ve tried that already.”

                Cas spoke quickly, he needed Zachariah to do this. “Sam has me protecting him in the past, and I have hid him from all angels. But they trust me; I’ll be able to find him. They’ll never see me coming.”

                “Why would you do this? You once went to a lot of effort to protect Sam.” Zachariah asked.

                Cas swept his arms out, gesturing at the world around him. “You know why.”

               Zachariah nodded, “You know this will hurt Dean.” He pointed out.

               Cas sighed. It was the only thing that gave him pause in his plan. “Better Dean hates me, than hates himself, as he will in this world.” Zachariah didn’t say anything in reply, and Cas stayed silent, letting him thing it through.

Finally Zachariah looked at him again, and said, “You’re going to be very angry with yourself.” He smiled and reached out, placing his middle and index fingers in Cas’ forehead. Cas sighed in relief as he felt Zachariah’s power flow through and around him. This would work, this had to work.

            It was different, being brought along on someone else’s power rather than using his own as he’d once done. He felt like he was being squeezed from the inside out, and then a pop as they arrived. Cas blinked as Zachariah pulled his hand away. “Good luck,” he said, with that smug, superior smile that Cas had always hated.

           “Yeah, thanks.” Cas said, and turned away. They were still in the hotel, but now it was back to its former glory. Flowers bloomed and people were walking and talking. Cas realized that he looked out of place, wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing for days. He probably smelled too. He glanced back, but Zachariah was already gone, not unexpectedly. He was on his own, but he had known that this was as much help as he was going to get. It didn’t bother him.

           He didn’t have any money, and he needed some things, like a shower and new clothes. Oh god, a hot shower, it had been a long time. When he’d been an angel, he hadn’t appreciated things like eating and showering, he’d been focused on the bigger things until Dean would shove him into the bathroom with instructions to bathe because “you smell like the inside of a ghoul!” It was only after he’d lost his power that Cas had come to appreciate the little things, like clean skin.

                On his way out of the hotel he snagged an unattended purse. He nonchalantly picked it up and walked outside, where he rifled through it. He took the cash, $57, and dropped the purse on the ground, walking away. Someone would find it and return it, probably.

                It wasn’t much money, but it would buy him a night at the seediest motel in town, which was all he needed right now. He found a place that only charged $48 a night, which left him with nine dollars to eat and re-outfit himself. The dollar menu took two of his dollars, a burger and fries that tasted like heaven itself, and he was in a position to know. The other seven dollars went to a thrift store, where he bought a shirt and stole a pair of pants. He had one dollar in quarters left when he was done.

                After a shower that lasted as long as the hot water did, and then some, Cas collapsed onto the bed, the cheap comforter scratched his skin. He slept in his new clothes, not willing to sleep nude on the questionable sheets.

                In the morning he checked out, and made his way to the pay phone across the street. He used his leftover change from the day before to make a call.  It rand three times before it was picked up. “Hello Bobby.” He tried to remember to talk the way he used to, before he’d been around Dean and Sam so long that they rubbed off.

                “Cas? That you?” Bobby asked.

                “Yes.” Cas said, “I need to find Dean and Sam.” Straight to the point, he hadn’t really been into small talk back then.

                “You can’t just find them with your angel mojo?” Bobby asked.

                “No.” Cas said. Keep it simple. “Do you know where they are?”

                Bobby grunted, “Yeah. They’re doing a job in bumfuck nowhere.” Cas smiled at the saying.

               However his past self wouldn’t understand, so he said, “Can you tell me how to get to Bumfuck?” His voice was carefully deadpan.

                Bobby chuckled, “Yeah, I guess I can.” He told Cas the real name of the town and where it was. Cas didn’t ask for directions, since at this point Bobby would be expecting him to just appear there, the way he always did.

                “Thank you for your assistance, Bobby.” Cas said when he was done.

                Bobby harrumphed. “Sam been teachin’ you manners? Good for you.” Cas hung up. Sam had been the one to teach him manners, once upon a time.  This time he wouldn’t get the chance.

                Cas hotwired a car, Dean would have been proud, and was in the same town as Dean and Sam in a day and a half. It really was a small town, one main street and only a couple of traffic lights. Cas stayed away from the one motel, knowing that that was where the brother’s would be. Instead he parked a few miles outside of town and slept in the back seat. It was uncomfortable, but he didn’t want anyone to know he was here until he was ready.

               He waited until night and made another payphone call, this time to Sam’s cell. He was slightly amazed that he could still remember the number, but then, the brothers had been the most important thing in his life at the time. Sam answered after the first ring, he always did have his phone close by. “Hello?” Sam said.

                “Sam.” Cas spoke, again emulating his past self. “I need you to meet me.”

                “Castiel? What? Why?” Sam always had questions, could never just accept things, Cas remembered.

                “I’ve found a weapon that I believe may be used to kill Lucifer.” Cas said. He needed to lure Sam out, away from Dean.

                “We have the Colt.” Sam said, sounding confused. Cas was silent a moment, remembering their attempt to use the colt, and how it had ended.

                “I’ve found reason to believe the Colt will not be enough to kill him.” Cas said. Which was certainly true enough, seeing as Dean had had the Colt when Lucifer had snapped his neck.

                “What? When? Why didn’t you say anything?” Sam demanded.

                “I did not want to tell you until I found an alternative. Now I have.” Cas answered.

                “Whatever. I’ll get Dean and we’ll meet you. Where are you going to be?” Sam said.

                Cas thought fast, Dean had to stay behind. “Do not bring Dean.”

                “Why?” Sam asked.

                “He’s been through a lot recently. His experience with Zachariah was hard on him. He needs to rest.” Cas hoped that was enough to make Sam do as he said.

                “Wait, Zachariah? What are you talki-what happened?” Sam sounded surprised and upset.

                “He did not tell you?” Cas asked. He had though that Dean would share his three days in the future with Sam, if only as more reason that he should not say ‘Yes.’

                “Apparently not.” Sam said wryly.

                “I’ll fill you in when you get here. Meet me at the old steel factory, by the river. Bring the Colt too, we might need it.” Cas said.

                “Alright, I’ll be there in an hour.” Sam said.

                “Good.” Cas hung up. An hour gave him barely enough time to set up, but it would have to do. He made it to the factory with 20 minutes to spare; he’d stopped on the way to steal some rope and duct tape. Now he salted all of the doors and windows of the factory. If any demons were to get wind of what he planned to do, they would try to stop him. Lucifer was not going to be happy about losing his vessel.


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