Title: (Re)Making an Angel: Strange and Terrible Tales (2/?)
Characters: Sam Winchester ♂, Dean Winchester ♂, Castiel ♂, Kafziel (OC) ♂
Rating: T" width="32px" /> (L2 N0 S1 V1 D1)
Warnings: Blasphemy, brotherly face-punching, dysfunctional family dynamics, suggestions of future angel smut, non-explicit discussion of sex
Notes: Kafziel explains, and Sam wishes he hadn’t asked. More beer. More coffee. More bizarre stories. Still no Cas. Definitely Cas in the next chapter.
Chapter 2: Strange and Terrible Tales
"I don’t intend to use a syringe. I intend to have intercourse with him."
A strangled sound came out of Sam, as he choked on his tongue, eyes wide. "You what?"
Images flashed through his mind. If it was Dean, would he? Of course he would, but that’s the kind of thing you do if your brother is dying, and there’s no other choice. That didn’t make it appealing or even slightly ok. He wasn’t sure if that happened between him and Dean, they’d ever be able to look at each other again. And he was going to need a lot of whiskey to unsee that, now that he’d thought of it.
"We experience morality and physicality differently. I’m sure you’ve noticed that. An angel with no vessel has no gender, no sexuality, and very little desire. We are impressed upon to avoid engaging in sexual activities with humans, or each other in human forms, because of the possibility of nephilim. But, the nephilim are strange and powerful for a reason. It is because we have transferred a part of our grace."
"Wait, I’m sorry, did you just say angel jizz contains grace?" Sam scoffed, horrified disbelief still stamped on his face from the last revelation.
"Not the words I would have chosen, but yes," Kafziel answered, unperturbed.
"What about angels in female vessels? Does that mean they can’t share their grace?"
It was like watching a python swallow a pig, Kafziel thought, watching Sam attempt to take in the information. "I have never had a female vessel, but I do not believe it is impossible. I believe it is slightly more complicated, but still very possible, though I have never seen it done. It is, after all, not only men who ejaculate."
"Not onl— Oh. OH." Sam was sure Dean would have caught on more quickly, but at the same time, he was so very glad Dean wasn’t here for this conversation. His face distorted a bit as he struggled to return from shock and horror to interest and curiosity. No, he couldn’t quite make it back. The cure for Castiel’s problem was an internal application of his brother’s angelic jizz, and that stuck Sam with an expression of fascinated disgust. "So, you really think he’s going to go for this?"
"It is the best of several unpleasant options. In this, no one else will be harmed, and he may be healed. I do not believe I will be dissatisfied with my actions, despite twenty centuries of human morality, and he has not been among you as long as I have. Of course, much of his time among mankind has been erased, as well. I hope to give that back to him — to give all of it back to him. I cannot be sure how many of his unfortunate choices have been a result of him simply lacking one or more memories that would have provided him insight into the aftermath of his actions. We are meant to remember, but we are also not intended to possess free will. Had he remained obedient, his lack of memory would have brought him no harm, but that is a poor rationale for destroying a mind." Kafziel paused. "I ramble. Forgive me. Yes, I believe he will accept my offer."
"He hasn’t spent as long here, but you haven’t spent any of it actually human, have you? You haven’t been without grace." Sam had seen Castiel trying to live as a regular guy, with a regular life, and he believed it had made a strong impression.
"My grace was once Gabriel’s. I had an incident with a Knight of Hell, but he had mercy on me."
Sam’s jaw dropped. "Gabriel? Gabriel had mercy?"
"He was somewhat less jaded, at the time. He also has no memory of saving me. I left him as a stranger, as much as it pained me." Kafziel finished his coffee. "I’ll give it back to him, one day. He does not have a monopoly on excellent pranks."
Sam’s gaze of studious disbelief settled on Kafziel, and he thoughtfully jammed a finger into one of the multiplicity of still-healing slashes on his shoulder from his last hunt. Nope, there was still an angel at the kitchen table. Good. Not hallucinating. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable thought, but he preferred reality, even when he wasn’t sure it should be happening.
"You’re serious, aren’t you?"
"Serious as a head wound. Is there another cup in that pot?" The angel held out his empty cup.
"Head wounds aren’t usually that serious. They just bleed a lot," Sam remarked, absently, as he poured another cup, still trying to wrap his mind around any number of things. Today was just full of surprises. He got himself another beer. Sticking it in Dean, his traitorous mind suggested, and the cap came off the beer so fast Sam couldn’t remember removing it. "If you ever do give that back to Gabriel, take pictures. I want to see his face. I still owe him at least one good one."
"If I can get a camera near him, you’ll get copies." Kafziel swirled the coffee in his mouth. "One problem remains. I do not sense Castiel, here. I followed the signs to you, but he is not with you. Do you know how to find him?"
"Yeah, of course." Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Your brother has finally joined the twenty-first century."
"It’s always the obvious answer, isn’t it?" Kafziel shook his head, as Sam dialled.
"Voicemail." Sam sighed. "Cas, answer your damn phone. One of your brothers is sitting in my kitchen, and he’s not an asshole. Kafziel. Says he drank the world’s first coffee with you. Also says he knows how to give back your grace. Call me."
"Not an asshole. Strong praise from a Winchester, I’ve heard."
"I can count the number of angels I’m willing to drink coffee with on one hand. The number of demons may be a little higher, right now. I probably shouldn’t be comfortable with you, but you’re not pushy and you don’t sound like you’re selling something, every time you open your mouth." A self-conscious laugh rose out of Sam’s chest. "That and you didn’t flip out when I mentioned there’s a demon and a half, in the back room."
"Your demons seem more concerned with coffee and each other than with me. It didn’t seem worth the effort. If two thousand years of mankind teaches anything, it teaches patience." Kafziel shrugged. "Free will, hormone-driven emotional responses, and, on a good day, maybe a third of the applicable data for any situation? It sucks to be you. I’m sorry. I don’t know what my father was thinking, and I apologise for him. I know, I know, I’m starting to sound like Lucy."
Sam struggled to keep the beer in his mouth and swallow it. "Lucy? Did you just call your brother, the demon, the devil, the absolute lord of Hell, Lucy?"
"Oh. Awkward. That sounds much less terrible in Enochian. But, a lot of us suffer that problem, especially since the fall. So many of us have names that were glorious, when we got them, but have gained unfortunate implications in many human languages. Asahel? She’s going by Ashbel, now."
"Yeah, I can see why. Not a name I’d want people calling me."
They drank in silence for a time, listening to the faint hum of the ventilation system and incomprehensible irate sounds from the end of the long hall.
"How long do you think you’re staying?" Sam finally asked.
"I thought I would get a room in town." It doesn’t answer the question, but it answers the implication. "Unlike so many of my siblings, I do understand how motels work."
"Don’t. It’s better if we don’t have that kind of regular traffic. People will start looking. Stay with us. You don’t sleep, do you?" Sam stepped away from the counter and slid the angel blade into a sheath in the small of his back.
"No, I don’t. Are you sure you’re comfortable with me here?"
Sam smiled slyly. "I’m the only one left who sleeps. There are enough eyes to keep you out of trouble."
Kafziel laughed. "I can see why my brother is so fond of you."
"He likes Dean better. I’ll be damned if I know why, but I think it has something to do with tequila and Casa Erotica. Oh, and that whole ‘not born to be the King of Hell’ thing." Sam snorts. "And I guess there was that one time when he was god, and I stabbed him in the back, but I thought he was going to kill my brother!"
Kafziel continued to laugh in that way that’s only possible if you’re only breathing so you can laugh, and you don’t actually need the air to sustain bodily functions. "You stabbed him, while he was possessed? With what?"
"Well, you know, an angel blade. I don’t know, it made sense at the time. He’s an angel. I thought he was going to kill my brother, so… I stabbed him with an angel blade!" Sam looked at once disgruntled and painfully embarrassed as he grabbed what was left of his beer and headed back out toward the main room. "Come meet the library. You don’t sleep, so you’re probably going to want something to read."
Kafziel stood and followed, coffee in one hand. "I don’t blame you. Please don’t think I mean to hold that against you. He made a terrible mistake, and I know you tried to stop him. I would have come sooner, if I had any idea of his intent, but he’d gone silent to us all. He knew Raphael would come for him, and on some level, I think he knew we would, as well. If he remembers us." A smile flickered across his lips. "You stabbed a demigod in the back. A great man once said, there is a fine line between bravery and stupidity. I think you have erased that line, and I mean that in the best way possible."
"… Thanks. I think." Sam took a swig of his beer and gestured broadly with his other arm. "Books and manuscript cases as far as the eye can see. If you like bravery unto stupidity, I can’t think of a better place to look for reading material than this place. We found some film of a priest who invented a way to cure demons. And then he got torn apart by a Knight of Hell. It’s a little short on happy endings, sometimes."
"So’s life. Do you have any favourite sections? Tomes you might suggest?" The angel stepped into the stacks and gazed upward.
"Actually, yeah. There’s a book of… well, I’m pretty sure it’s Enochian poetry, but my Enochian’s not that great. It’s probably really good if you can actually read it. Either that or it just sounds good, because my translation is terrible." Sam pointed to the book and then stepped back, as his phone began to ring.
"It’s Cas. Sec. Book’s right there." He took a breath and then answered. "Cas? Hey. … Yeah, he’s right here. We were just talking about Enochian poetry. … He says he wants to give you a new grace that’ll actually stay put. And your memory. He wants to give you back your memory, so you’ll finally know if Naomi was lying. … What? I don’t know. … You can talk to him about that. … How long will it take you to get back? NO! No. Don’t do that. I’ll come get you. Where are you?"
Kafziel tapped him on the shoulder. "Let me take you there. It’ll be faster."
"Your brother says he’ll take me to come get you, so you don’t kill yourself trying to get here, and I don’t drive into a tree trying to get to you before you do. … Yes, Cas. … Yes, Cas. … That’s probably a good idea. … Yes, I’m really pretty sure he doesn’t mean you any harm. I know you don’t remember. That’s half the problem. … You’re where? … Yeah. Ok. We’ll be there soon. … Get me a burger, would you?… Thanks."
Sam stuck the phone back into his pocket. "DEAN! I’m gonna go get Cas. I’ll be right back. If I’m not back in an hour, you should probably care," he shouted in the general direction of the back room.
Asshole. "Because it means the angels got us, you jerk!"
"Yeah, yeah, I’ll come save your ass. Go bring our angel home. And get me some pie!"
"There’s pie in the fridge!"
"Wait, did I…? Hell yes, I did! Thanks, Sammy!"
Sam finished his beer and left the bottle on the table, next to Kafziel’s coffee cup, as he addressed the angel, again. "Did you come through town? You know that BigGerson’s by the highway? That’s where we’re going."
Taking Kafziel’s offered hand, he kept a cautious eye on the angel, as they flashed out of the bunker.