Chapter Text
“He's gone, Dean.”
Dean felt numb. Kneeling on the cold floor of the abandoned building that once was Crowley’s hideout, beside his best friend’s lifeless body, he barely noticed the blood soaking into his jeans, staining them a rusty brown.
They’d really done it then; the souls were returned to purgatory. And Cas had paid the price of his arrogance, as he said he was prepared to do. He looked almost peaceful now, compared to the anguish of only a few minutes before, thousands of souls pushing at the very fibres of his being to be released. Hardly aware of what he was doing, Dean rearranged Cas’ tie, so it lay lopsided and twisted like the angel always had it. Never quite perfect, never polished and prim like the rest of the winged bastards. That had been what Dean liked best about Cas, that little spark of humanity, of defiance. Unfortunately, it was that same stubborn streak that had brought them here, and now Cas was dead.
But Cas being prepared to die and Dean being prepared to let him do so were obviously two very separate entities, for he kept watching Cas, as if expecting a breath, a movement, any sign of life, but none came.
Until they did.
At first, Dean thought he was imagining the slight rise and fall of Cas’ chest under his hand, that his mind was fucking with him. But then Cas opened his eyes, blinking around, seemingly just as shocked as the other two that he was alive. Dean choked out an astonished “Cas?”, and Bobby swore colourfully somewhere behind them.
“That was unpleasant.” Were the first words out of the angel’s mouth, and Dean felt a wave of dizzying relief. Forcibly expelling the departed souls of several thousand humans had done nothing to affect Cas’ attitude, it seemed, or his disregard for his own safety. Case in point, the next thing the idiot tried to do was sit up, but was impeded by Dean’s hand.
“Easy buddy. Thought we’d lost you there for a minute.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Cas responded, deadpan as ever, successfully pushing away Dean’s restraining arm to sit up, and Dean didn’t argue this time. The move brought them virtually nose to nose, green eyes looking into bright blue, and Dean had to fight down the ridiculous urge to brush a loose black curl out of his face. But he didn’t, because that would be weird regardless of the situation, and it was also reoccurring to Dean right about this moment that he was meant to be royally pissed off with Cas. Yes, he had nearly died, but he was most of the reason they had got into this mess in the first place, by conspiring with Crowley, going behind their backs, the whole treacherous shebang. Cas seemed to sense his thoughts as if they were written in Sharpie on his face, and flinched away a little from Dean’s gaze, clearing his throat and standing unsteadily. After a moment, Dean did the same.
Bobby had been quiet through the whole silent exchange, so much so Dean had nearly forgotten he was there, but he spoke now, tone overly gruff to hide what Dean knew was relief. Despite the harsh exterior, Bobby had a knack for becoming a father figure to just about any traumatised kid he came across, regardless of age or species.
“Glad we don’t have to burn you, boy. But no more soul guzzling, you hear me?”
Cas nodded, looking suitably chastised, and Bobby began walking to the exit. Dean tried to follow, but a hand caught his arm and held him back.
“I'm going find some way to redeem myself to you.” Cas said quietly, so it wouldn’t carry to Bobby, already halfway up the stairs. He looked so forlorn and sincere that Dean very nearly cracked. Hell, he wanted to say it was fine, that they all made mistakes, but he’d vowed not to let Cas off easy this time, not when he’d nearly got Sam killed. The fact that Sam was fine was beside the point.
“All right, well, one thing at a time. Come on. Let's get you out of here.”
“I mean it, Dean.”
“Yeah, well…” He trailed off, unsure of what to say, and pulled away from Cas. The angel didn’t resist, but a part of Dean wished he had, wished he’d hung on even a few seconds more.
Dean began towards the stairs once more, debating where everyone would sit on the way to wherever they were staying as a way to keep his mind firmly away from the crushed look Cas had just given him. He would drive (obviously) but who got shotgun? Bobby would expect to be given priority, but Cas had just kinda given up a lot for them, and nearly died. Maybe they could swap when they dropped Bobby off in Sioux falls? Or maybe-
A scuffling and a low groan of pain from behind him had Dean whipping around, hand reaching into his pocket for his pistol. But there was no attacker, just Cas, who had fallen to his knees, hands over his ears as if to ward off some invisible threat, from inside or out Dean couldn’t tell. He could hear Bobby coming quickly back down the stairs, obviously having heard some of the commotion, and Dean scrambled back to Cas, confusion warring with a horrible sense of dread. Hadn’t they fixed it?
“Cas?”
“Something’s wrong.” The angel gasped out, eyes wide and more scared than Dean thought he’d ever seen them “I can't hold them back.”
“Hold who back?!” Dean responded urgently, but Cas just shook his head. A strange black something was spreading up through the veins on his neck and arms, like an oil slick on tarmac, worming its way through Cas’ body like a curse.
“They held on inside me, Dean. You need to run, now.”
“Hell no, I’m not leaving you!” the idea was ridiculous, they’d just got him back, Dean wasn’t about to leave him here. But Bobby came forward and grabbed his arm, wrenched him to his feet and away from the angel. Dean fought all the way, but the old man was damn strong when he wanted to be, and right now he seemed more focused on getting himself and Dean out then helping Cas, however attached to Cas he might be. No use in getting them all killed, was there? Usual hunting instincts, the ones screaming that they’d been doomed from the start, told Dean this was a good decision, but he didn’t care. He needed to be here, instincts be damned.
“Dean, listen to him. If he’s saying there something worse coming, we should listen.”
“Fuckin- let go!” Dean furiously tugged against Bobby’s grip on his wrist, but he didn’t budge. Cas had his arms over his head now, shaking slightly as if trying to supress a scream.
And then, quite suddenly, he went totally, horribly still. He lowered his hand, stood, quite steady. But when Cas turned to face them properly, and Dean recoiled.
“Cas?”
The veins around his face pulsed sluggishly with black sludge, and more of it dripped from his ears, his nose. He didn’t seem to notice, just cocked his head to one side, and smiled at Dean and Bobby. There was nothing of Cas in that smile, it wasn’t the toothy and awkward grin he tried when he was doing his best human impression, a being not used to having a face at all. Not the slight curl of his lip and softening of his eyes, unnoticeable for everyone except the ones who knew him best. It wasn’t broad and surprised, the kind Dean got every so often when he told a joke Cas had never heard before (‘Seriously dude, you’re like, a bajillion, how have you never heard the scarecrow who got a promotion?’ ‘Outstanding in his field, Dean, in his field!’ ‘Mhm, I know, I'm hilarious, don’t pull a muscle over there buddy). It was wide, slack, like a mask. And Dean understood, in a horrible wave of clarity. It was a mask. There was something underneath, behind the bright blue eyes that usually shone with light, now flat and cold, and somehow triumphant as they surveyed him.
“Cas is… he's gone. He's dead. We run the show now.” It replied in Jimmy Novak’s voice. Not the low, gravelly tones of his best friend, but the human voice, long disused. He’s dead. It wasn’t true, it couldn’t be true-
“What are you.” Bobby demanded, taking charge. It (Dean wouldn’t call it a ‘he’, the creature wearing Cas didn’t deserve the title.) merely smirked.
“We are Leviathan. And now we are free. Oh, this is going to be so much fun.” Dean was fast regaining the power of thought, shoving down any and all emotions about Cas because damn it, he didn’t have the time right now. He could have his mental breakdown later, over a bottle of whiskey in his room with no one to see him, like a real man. The Leviathan seemed less sure of itself than it let on, as more and more black goo spilled from Cas’ vessel’s ears. Almost as if… it couldn’t contain all of the creatures within the one body.
“How many of you ass-clowns are in there? A hundred? More?” when it didn’t respond, he pressed on “Your vessel's gonna explode, ain't it? Wouldn't do anything too strenuous. In fact, I'd call it a day, head on home, huh?” Dean was well aware he was clutching at straws, but he figured he may as well try and reason with the things. Maybe that way he wouldn’t have to get them to leave by force, however that might work, and risk hurting Cas’ vessel in the process. The Leviathans (ominous fucking name if he’d ever heard one) didn’t seem all too concerned though.
“Home? And leave this land, when we have so much to accomplish? I think not. We will return for you.” It turned, completely disregarding the two hunters, and made its way up the stairs and towards the sunlight beyond. A few stunned seconds later, Dean and Bobby followed. Neither dared attack, they had no idea what these things were capable of.
It became clear that the Leviathans were unused to such a physical form, or at least a human shaped one, from the way it listed and swayed as it waked out of the building, down past the impala and towards the road. Where was it going? Was it planning to walk there? Dean didn’t have any idea what might kill these things, but he imagined hitting it with one and a half tonnes of car might be a good place to start. Cas’ vessel might be hurt, but he could always heal it or find a new one.
If he was still alive, that is.
Just as he was about to suggest this idea to Bobby, the creature took a sharp left, cutting down a small footpath towards the reservoir. They could do nothing but follow.
If Dean had expected the Leviathans to stop when they reached the reservoir’s edge, he was sorely disappointed. They did no such thing, entering the water with an ungainly splash, walking slowly but steadily. He and Bobby stopped at the bank to watch, and Dean clearly heard Bobby mutter “aw hell” to himself as the water reached Cas’ the creature’s neck. But it didn’t stop there, and very soon there was nothing above the surface at all, just a ripple emanating from the spot where it had disappeared, and a flash of black in the water there and gone.
“Well, this is a new one.” Bobby muttered after a moment, and Dean privately thought that was the understatement of the fucking century. Apparently realising he wasn’t going to get much in the way of a response, Bobby continued “If they’re in the waterways now, they’ll be mobile. We need to get Sam and figure these bastards out before they can start doing real damage.”
Dean nodded, still staring out over the lake where his best friend’s body had disappeared. Maybe Cas had already been dead when he went into the water, but if he wasn’t then he surely would be now. Sudden movement near the bank made him jump, but it wasn’t a Leviathan, back for another round. It wasn’t even alive.
Cas’ trenchcoat, beige and worn from years of constant use, surfaced just feet from them, drifting on eddies of silty water towards the bank. When it got closer, Dean stepped forward slightly, picked it up. It was heavy, waterlogged and with traces of black goo still clinging to the collar. Dean didn’t let himself linger on that, just wrung it out, folded it carefully, and put it under his arm. Bobby didn’t comment, just gestured wordlessly, and Dean followed him back to the impala, placing the folded coat in the back, under his duffle bag, before sliding into the driver’s seat, flicking on the ignition, and tearing off into the gathering darkness.
There was no sound by the reservoir, apart from the occasional shriek of owls and the rustlings of nighttime creatures. The only humans in the area had departed hours ago. The glassy sheen of the undisturbed surface reflecting the waning moon, occasionally covered by passing clouds, plunging the scene into near complete darkness.
Then, the ripples began. From the same point that Castiel had vanished, now he resurfaced. Or at least, his body did, along with its new occupant. Its walk was steadier now; it was growing more used to a two-legged form. Like the angel that inhabited the vessel beforehand, this was new territory. It made its way up to the forest, and paused at the bank, looking back at the water. So full of life, this world, a veritable feast to creature such as it. And it was hungry. Containment had been easy once the rest of its kind had departed, flitting into the streams and rivers, making their way across the country, apart but forever connected. But their leader needed an adequate vessel, why should they have to scrounge for such a body when one was ready and waiting? This vessel, James Novak, had housed an angel of the lord for many years, it was a perfect casing.
But there was one slight problem. To say that the vessel had housed an angel was technically incorrect. It was housing an angel, currently. Castiel was not dead, not quite. The Leviathan could feel him, stirring weakly in the depths of his mind, trying to reach out. That wouldn’t do at all. With a mere thought, the angel was pushed down, subdued. He went without a fight; he had no strength to do otherwise. That would do for now.
The Leviathan had bigger matters to see to tonight.
It set off into the woods.