Chapter 1

Life in Him Yet

Time will take us all, and turn us into stone.

It leaves us with regrets and picks apart the threads,

hung over fragile bones.

Let him go…

I can't let him go.

His eyes tell nothing of a soul that is spare, a heart that is longing for death.

He's still here fighting. Better know there's life in him yet.

~

Adapted from Life in Her Yet by Rag n’ Bone Man

Castiel opened his many eyes, blinking, an unnerving feeling taking hold of his heart. Floating in the Empty void, it gnawed at him constantly. A torturous, painful itch—like maggots slowly eating away dead flesh—was one of the precious few things tethering him to awareness of his own existence. He felt it every time another minuscule piece of him was devoured. Maddening eons—a seeming eternity—would pass before the Emptiness’ multitude of mindlessly feeding mouths finally consumed a being of his magnitude. The terrified screams of the lost echoed in the blackness as the nothing consuming them drove each one insane in turn. Some more quickly than others.

Every once in a great while, a white-hot pain pierced the seraph’s heart. The Emptiness had wanted his taking to be unwilling. It, infinite in Its cruelty, had wanted to savor the taking of his soul. To relish and revel in his futile resistance. To bask in hearing his pleading to be returned to the one he loved above all others, all else. Castiel denied it the pleasure. He’d kept his peace, determined not to add his own preternatural wailing to the miserious cacophony of those imprisoned and suffering alongside him. Discontent with his serene acceptance of his fate, It seeded among the horrendous, scattered screams, a voice—one that pierced his heart like no other. Saying things he knew Dean himself would never have said…

You disgust me…

You’ll never be found…

You deserve oblivion…

You were never family…

I will never love you the way you love me…

You’re nothing to me…

Never come back here…

You don’t deserve to be saved…

On… and on… and on it went. Moments passed like centuries. Time lost meaning and became one with the nothingness, leaving Castiel only thought and feeling with which to define himself in this empty place. When all else ceases to exist, one clings to pain as desperately as any other sensation—more so, even. As one of the most potent feelings, little else serves as such a firm anchor from which to perceive existence…

The pitch-black void had long ago become a frightening, swirling mass of oily, patchwork colors—products of his mind trying to paint the canvas of non-existence with something when confronted with absolute darkness. As the edges of his consciousness began fraying, apparitions, more often frightening than friendly, would manifest themselves then flow away like shapes perceived in the clouds—mirages designed to kill the spirit of souls lost within the Emptiness with a thirst for those left behind.

In one awful moment, as if the Emptiness had discerned what he was seeing, the face in his mind’s eye became clearer, gained proper color and form. Before long, the presence stepped through the parting darkness, alight with a glory potent enough to obscure even an angel’s sight.

If Castiel had possessed a beating heart, it would have stopped the moment the boy spoke. “Peace, Castiel. Do not be afraid. I am more now than I have ever been. I am everywhere, always. Many millennia have gone by since you sacrificed yourself to this place…”

Castiel uttered his first sound in all the thousands of years that had passed. A choked, hopeful yet broken question. “Dean…?” He couldn’t see Jack’s smile, but he could feel it.

“…Is waiting for you.” Jack’s laughter was subdued but everywhere, washing over his father’s tortured soul like waves gently rolling in over a sandy beach.

The heart-wrenching pain wracking Castiel’s being in that moment was more than he could bear. Now that It had broken into him, discovered the hope he had never allowed himself to surrender, the worst tortures would begin. Castiel was determined he would face it in the manner and form of his choosing; as the human being who had been the lens through which he experienced humanity. He laughed bitterly as a smile formed on familiar lips. It was his one act of defiance, resisting the Emptiness in a form so diminutive, whatever pride it possessed would be offended.

The insult would provoke greater torment, but, at the end of all things, there was nothing—not an angel or anything other—that he would rather be. If It would deceive his senses, construct and imprison him in a ruse that would force him to face—touch—Dean again, it was this body he would use for the purpose. No other. A body that could express—that could mourn and cry—that could breathe, speak, feel, taste and smell… that could love in the most visceral ways Castiel would ever know.

Tears began to make their winding way down his face. Whichever direction was down was in a constant state of flux. The angel held himself unmoving but quivering, afraid, still afloat in the void.

A glowing hand reached out, wrapping itself around his. Castiel recognized the feeling. It was divine—real—not an illusion. In light of the realization, he began taking in heaving breaths as he spoke, his expression awestruck. “I don’t understand… how?”

Jack’s laughter was unrestrained as he drew nearer to the beloved man he esteemed as a father, reaching out to put an arm around him. “I learned from the best.”

“You spent thousands of years annoying It into setting me free…” Castiel’s laughter mingled with sobs as a smile engaged in a tug-of-war with sadness at both corners of his lips, each winning in turns.

“Exactly,” Jack replied. The warmth of his son’s voice and embrace brought heat and feeling back to Castiel’s frigid form. He began to shiver, not out of fear, but as one does when their senses overload, having gone without sight or sensation far too long.

“Dean, Sam… everyone. They’re long dead… gone… in their hearts, they have, most likely, left me behind. Even if they are in Heaven, I can never go back…” Cas said languidly, remaining limp, his gaze vacant. All the while, his son collected him up into his arms, giving his head subtle, knowing shakes.

“It may have taken thousands of years to secure your release, but time is relative, and I am its master now.” With shaking arms and allowing himself a few moments of relieved laughter, Castiel embraced the boy who became God. Contently resting his chin on his shoulder, smiling, he found in that moment the peace he’d been bidden to. “Hold tight to me,” Jack instructed. “The Emptiness agreed to release you from perdition, not facilitate it. Our escape will be… energetic.” Jack smiled, chuckling impishly as he and the angel in his arms disappeared into a fissure of light that existed for no more than the barest instant. A thunderous crack resonated throughout the Emptiness in its wake…