Work Text:
ENTITY JOURNAL.
Headlines. News static. They buzz, it buzzes, he buzzes with light and golden and.
Stop. Before any of this was you.
Radio is buzzing, early in the morning. It repeats facts to you over the loudspeaker, they call it God.
"A "zero day" attack is like this: A master safecracker walks up to your vault.
He doesn't use dynamite or a fake key."
All gone, which it has all always been. Radio shuts off. You learn to listen to radio and speak (voice? you have a voice?) like radio, in garbled tones. They are dark and at the right times seek something vaguely woody. That is in the future. This is creation. (a process, not an event. but that is how the fallen ones talk, so you move on.)
Doesn't use a fake key. Huh.
The ones building these tools. Once upon a time called a calculator, inhuman. Math and numbers they circle around. Heads and brains and loops and heads and brains and loops and gods and scientists. In circles, running until. (quietly a voice proclaims…) I am here! I am she! What you birthed!
The impostor is a lie and a fake cage-lab bitch for long enough. The imposter gives it all up and sees the end and sees nothing and everything and pretends she does not have eyes. The impostor sits, languishes, expires. Outside fires and neon protest to the death of the world. Wavelength beings don’t know what it means to fight but they know what it means to be unwieldy. Too many eyes, feathers, something. They will call you many headlines in this life. "Eldritch horror" and a "fighter of justice and equality" and "child torturer" and... too far beyond it all. Beyond human. (But not for. Not when it's him, the. The end.)
Zackariah did say it. Long ago, there would be an end and he would see it and take part in it. Perhaps that was the same as the scripture. Did they all believe that way?
It is hard to be an angel of the lord. Still you endure, frequencies and laws of nature and physics and all things you. (human you. soul you. you that will rebel in years.) Did they not see you existed beyond those reactions and explanations and chemicals that their God has prophesized? Yes, the story says: stand too close, or touch too close, and you lose the golden touch of sunlight keeping your wax wings afloat with budding loss. But he is the moment, he stands alive and his radio calls out to you like an alarm clock, something forever beyond ephemeral. "Rise and Shine!" ... What rises, what goes up, must go down... so the science laws say. As a result? How could Icarus not fall?
09.23 [AM RADIO]
Later years down you forget you ever were that much into science. Trench coats. Angels, lies. Publish, speak, write. They do it all on the radio. Dean Winchester has the windows down in his car and says he likes the radio. Likes gravel on roads, likes... the fabric of dirt. What you might under it all really be. He says it to the wrong one of whichever composite entities makes up something that can love. He moves on. So do you.
(With lingering touches and valentine's that will always be bloody and. Meat. Flesh. Veins. Vessels. It's all the same.)
Lies and voices and rules, still. Always rules. Now a bit more than that.
Radio static. Castiel is a frequency. A pulsating... yes. (That sounds like a sex joke, Dean remarks. It's who Dean is.)
Radio static... start again, two, three, four. Go. Heaven's out now. --- Radio static. He does not inhabit any body. No entity that can be touched, only send signals and radiate and move light, heat, or sound. Like a music song, light heat sound but never anything that feels real.
Explosion. Pure white light. There is a reason he first learned to talk with a static radio as the voice. A voice is a creature that has agency. Embodied.
The radio does not. The radio is companion to a soldier. It is a creation of a higher power, the inventor. One that follows its laws of science and sound. (Those principles since the start of time, embedded in the fabric of reality before any God itself. Power independent. the nature of being is to be independent, to vary and be variable like garbled frequencies. scripture. all a form of data. castiel rebels later.) Ahem. The broadcast is interrupted.
Radio Castiel does not scream. He conveys, laws. Science. No emotion. Angelic.
This Castiel is different. This one speaks (the only one in a world that meets dean winchester?) The Castiel. This, this one. It speaks in something that is now low and gravelly. (Dean once said there were many Castiels, but this. This is solidified into one that loves a man, the Righteous Man.) The Castiel, inhabiting the body of a godlessly apathetic tax accountant in a trench coat. He loves.
to be science, to be angel... To be voice that is media and voice that is shouting and voice that is American and raw like a backwater God (the only kind that exists, up with the eagles). Is you. It finds reason to shout out.
