Work Text:
the fire reduces your world to
a circle four feet in diameter
inside the dilapidated kitchen
of a long-abandoned house.
you are a thing of primordial creation
the third-oldest being still alive in this godless universe
and your little barely-a-brother
has trapped you in a cage less wide
than most humans are tall
and the weapon with which your older brother will kill
your older brother says, Don’t look at me, it was his idea,
and your little barely-a-brother asks,
Where is He?
(what Michael calls doubt, you call faith.
Michael believes
Father could never die, but you believe Father
would never choose to abandon you.)
Didn’t you hear? He’s dead, Castiel.
paradise is close at hand, the light at the end of a tunnel
five thousand years long.
the weapon with which
your older brother will kill your older brother
cracks a joke.