Chapter Text
The healer’s camp expanded beyond the forest and into the beach. Healers walked up and down the lines of injured, making the most of their dwindling supplies. Rescue parties, led by Aaron and his troops, were sent out every day. Most of the time they returned with heavy hearts and little else. Sometimes, however, they found a survivor and that made the effort worth it.
In the books, written years later about the final moments of the Long War, the historians would refer to the fall of Heaven as “The Flash.” There were many theories about what it was-- the last dying breath of Heaven, the final surge of power before the Celestials flew away-- but only a few of them came close to the truth. In their defence, none of them knew what happened up in Heaven. Castiel never told them.
On the bright summer morning Sam tended to his patients on the beach, the people were not worried about the reasons behind the Flash. They were busy trying to treat the effects. When the Flash occurred, many fighters were unable to shield themselves from the radiance. They looked directly into the light and, as consequence, their eyes burned out. Many of Sam’s patients had bands of cloth tied over their eyes.
Sam knelt beside one such patient. “Hey, Pamela. How are you doing today?”
“Sam? Sam is that you?” Pamela sat up, reaching toward him. Her hands settled on his arms. She gripped his biceps and squeezed. “Oh, that’s definitely you.”
Sitting in the sand beside her, Jo rolled her eyes. “She’s feeling okay.”
“I got that.” Sam tried to shrug her off but she held fast. “Pamela, I’m gonna need my hands to change your bandages.”
“Oh, you’re no fun.” Pamela dropped her arms. She sat still and serene as Sam worked. “Jo, my dear, your aura is vibrating.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Hey.” Pamela found Jo’s hand with no trouble. She held it tight. “I just like to flirt. You know I’m committed.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Jo sighed. “What are we gonna say to Charlie?”
“Oh, you just let me handle Red.”
“She said to come back in one piece.”
“And I am. Mostly.”
Sam very professionally and very carefully tied the clean bandage behind Pamela’s head, acting as if he had not noticed a thing. “You’re taking all this pretty well.”
“Guess so.” Pamela smiled, her head inclined toward Jo. Jo smiled back. “Weird, huh?”
Sam patted her on the arm and stood. He nodded to Jo and moved further down the line. His next patient was given a wide berth. Most people wanted to avoid the yelling. Well, most people but one.
“Oh, c’mon, Bobby,” Rufus said, plopping down beside the Captain on his makeshift cot constructed of driftwood. “You’ll like the village. It’s full of taverns.”
“And you,” came the surly reply.
“Someone’s gotta deal with your cranky ass.” Rufus reached under his cloak and produced a flask. He took a pull then handed it to the Captain. “C’mon.”
The Captain accepted the offering. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”
“It’s about time the old man retired.”
“Old man?” The Captain drank from the flask. “You’re older than me!”
“That’s what you like to think.”
Rufus’s eyes became huge when he saw Sam walking towards them. He snatched the flask from the Captain’s hand and shoved it behind his back. Sam shook his head and chose to let them think they got away with it.
“Did you bring legs?” The Captain demanded as soon as Sam was within earshot.
“No,” Sam said, “but I do have an idea.”
“Yeah, what?” Rufus asked.
“A moving chair,” Sam said. “That way, you can get around even without legs.”
“A chair.” The Captain threw his hands up. Rufus pushed them down and shot the Captain a warning glare. Captain Singer took a deep breath and visibility forced himself to calm. “I… appreciate the effort.”
“Wow,” Sam said, grinning, “I guess you really are feeling better.”
Rufus waved as Sam walked away. He heard the men bickering as he left. His next visit was not for a patient, not officially. She had a clean bill of health, only in need of rest, but he wanted to check on her anyway.
Linda Tran refused a bedroll. She sat in the sand, leaning against a boulder, her face tilted back to catch the sun. She stroked Kevin’s hair, who lay asleep in her lap.
“Hey,” Sam said keeping his voice low as to not wake Kevin, “how’s it going?”
“Good,” Linda said. “I really missed the fresh air.”
“I bet. I want to ask: are you planning to head back to your village after this?”
Linda raised her head and looked Sam in the eye. “Why are you asking?”
“Kevin has a lot of talent.” Sam shrugged. “We could use that.”
“We?”
“The castle.”
Linda hummed, touching the blade hidden under her sleeve. “I wonder if there’s any need for fighters in the coming days.”
“I’m sure the people will always need some kind of protection. Help with travel. Rebuilding. Stuff like that.”
“I see.” She rubbed her chin, thoughtful. “Do you think they’d have any use for a single mom?”
“If she had plenty of drive and talent.”
Linda leaned her head back toward the sun. “Maybe we won’t need to head back home so soon.”
Sam bid her goodbye, though he doubted she saw his wave. He had one more stop. This time, he headed for the abandoned cabin. It was damaged during the fighting. The kitchen wall had crumbled, exposing it to the outside. Luckily, the bedroom was untouched. That room was all Sam needed.
Ash hopped down what was left of the steps. He paused at the bottom, pushing his long hair out of his face, and collected himself.
“What’s up, little dude?” Ash asked. “Checking in on our favourite patients?”
“He’s that bad, huh?”
“He’s…” Ash puffed out the air in his lungs. “He’s grumpy.”
Sam chucked. “Thanks for the warning.”
“I’m sure you’ll have more luck. Well, I think I’ll go check in on the Captain. I think he’d yell less.”
“Oh boy. Thanks, Ash. I got it from here.”
“You sure do.” Ash patted Sam on the shoulder before he walked away. "That was my last check-in."
Sam steeled himself, then walked into the cabin. He knocked on the bedroom door before he entered.
Dean had fresh bandages, so Ash did manage to get him to submit to an examination. Castiel, of course, was the same as he was the last few days: asleep on the bed with no visible cause for his condition.
“Did you know,” Sam said as he entered the room, “you got Ash to quit now? Guess you’re stuck with me.”
Dean, sitting at the foot of Castiel’s bed, rolled his eyes. “I don’t need medicine.”
“Uh, yeah you do. I saw that bruise on your chest.”
“It’ll heal,” Dean muttered, becoming silent as his attention was drawn down to the bed.
“He’ll wake up,” Sam said.
“Yeah, yeah.” Dean took Castiel’s hand in his own. “Course he will. We made plans. He promised.”
It was done. It was over. The Long War had ended. Castiel slept on.
⁂
Light, fluffy, airy white clouds floated all around him in the blue sky. Castiel drifted through them. Warm. Content. At rest.
Castiel rolled onto his back and watched the clouds pass by, flying on his long lost wings. He smiled. This was always how he imagined Paradise-- flying through a safe place, quiet and alone. It was almost perfect. Something about it, however, was not quite right.
A voice, deep and booming, echoed all around him, Castiel.
Castiel flapped his wings-- the black lightning shimmering with all the colours of the word-- and hovered in the air upright. The serene picture around him shimmered.
The tips of Castiel's boots touched still waters. Warily, Castiel flattened his feet. The water below him held fast, rippling gently at the movement. Once he was sure he would not sink into the depths, Castiel surveyed his surroundings.
Stars shone on the horizon. The soft silver light of the full moon reflected in the water. A shadow appeared in the middle of the moon in the shape of a Celestial, wings blotting out the sky. Castiel stood, waiting, watching the figure walk across the water, every step sending ripples toward him.
“Castiel,” Joshua said, putting his wings away, “well done.”
Joshua glowed. He stood tall, the hunch in his back gone, and both his hands lay at his sides, steady and strong. He smiled, the white of his teeth bright against his dark complexion. Castiel could not look away from the full radiance of the Son of God.
“What?” Castiel asked.
“You did it. Your battle is over. You made it to Paradise.”
“Paradise.” Castiel squinted. “Something feels wrong.”
Joshua clasped his hands in front of his chest. “Yes. I thought you would say that. You never could rest, could you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
A kind golden glow appeared in Joshua’s eyes. “I mean that you don’t need to worry anymore. I mean that I will guide the Celestials in their new way of life, Balthazar included. I mean that you can rest.”
The golden glow enveloped Joshua’s body until he was nothing more than a fuzzy outline of a humanoid shape. The shape reached out its hands and touched Castiel’s chest.
Castiel, said the same voice Castiel heard in the clouds, I absolve you of your sins. This, my child, is your reward.
Everything went white.
⁂
Castiel awoke, blinking at the ceiling of the abandoned cabin’s bedroom. A beam of bright sunlight found its way through the gap in the wooden ceiling slats to shine right into Castiel’s eyes. Castiel wiped at his face, as if that would make it go away.
His skin felt damp. Sweat. Castiel did not sweat.
His head ached and the beam of light was not helping. Castiel grumbled, fighting the urge to sink back into the bed and squish the pillow against his eyes, and sat up.
A hollow sensation gnawed at his stomach. He flattened his palm against his abdomen and wondered what that meant.
Throwing the blanket aside, he swung his feet around and put them on the floor. The shock of cold against his naked skin made him hiss. He wanted to stand-- wanted to find something other to wear other than the oversized trousers around his waist-- but he felt dizzy and achy and tired.
Dean found Castiel like that, sitting on the edge of the bed with a confused, soft, sleepy look on his face, and dropped the clean blanket he was carrying.
“Cas!” Dean rushed to Castiel’s side. “You’re awake!”
Castiel mumbled out a few sounds before he was able to form words around his sleep coated tongue. “Did we win?”
Dean’s smile was enough of an answer but he said, “Yeah. We did it.”
Castiel nodded. The strange hollow sensation in his stomach surged. Castiel held onto his side and hunched over.
“Hey.” Dean kneeled in front of Castiel and bit his lip. “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so. I--” Castiel’s stomach growled, rumbling under his hand. He gasped. “What was that?”
“You--” Dean snorted. He saw the real concern on Castiel’s face and tried to hold back his laughter. It did not work. “You’re hungry.”
“Hungry? I don’t get hungry. I--” Castiel snapped his mouth shut. He sat up straight and relished the pop of his spine. What an odd sensation. “This is my reward.”
“Reward? What are you talking about?”
Castiel stood. He walked past Dean to the opposite end of the room, his bare feet sliding across the rough floorboards. It tickled. Castiel did not know he was ticklish. He laughed.
“Uh, Cas,” Dean said from behind him, still standing near the bed. “You okay? You’re kinda freaking me out here.”
“Forgive me. I--” Castiel turned around. “I think I’m mortal.”
“Mortal?” Dean stepped toward Castiel, a tentative smile on his face. “Does that mean…?”
“It means,” Castiel said, taking slow steps back to Dean, “that I sweat and I’m ticklish and I get hungry and…”
Castiel stopped when he reached Dean, his blue eye blazing not with power, but with joy.
“And?” Dean prompted.
“It means I can grow old with you. It means that I can finally say this without a knot in my chest.” Castiel took Dean's face between his hands and pressed their foreheads together. “I love you.”
They kissed. They kissed and kissed until they were both smiling too wide to do much more than brush their lips together.
Castiel’s stomach growled. Dean laughed, feeling the heat in Castiel’s cheeks when he kissed them.
“Okay, okay. More of that later. Food first. Welcome to mortality, Cas.” Dean broke free from Castiel and headed toward the door, yelling as he went. “Hey! Sammy! We need some snacks in here!”
Alone in the bedroom, Castiel pressed his hands against his chest. Underneath, his mortal heart beat, strong and sure.
It was done. It was over. Castiel was absolved. Castiel was loved.
⁂
Rosemary Winchester-Moore was born less than a month after Sam’s return to the Capital. Sam held Jessica’s hand through her labour, calm and rational the whole time. The first time he held his daughter, however, he cried.
Two years later, Deanna Winchester-Moore came along. Sam did the exact same thing.
Aaron Bass, after months of rescue missions and saving many lives, returned to his estate to put the Golems to rest. He became King Adam’s most outspoken ally. Many reforms within the Realm came to pass through his support and advice. After his heroics in the Long War, the people followed him without hesitation. The Golems rested, ready to rise again in their hour of need. It would be a very, very long time until that came to pass.
Pamela Barnes spent a year in the Capital, settling her affairs and passing her knowledge to the next generation of soldiers. She never returned to the Barnes estate. She never picked up another sword. Instead, she spent her days in Charlie's shop, listening to her work.
Joanna Beth Harvelle spent that year guiding lost civilians back home and taking down the last few pockets of Creatures. After her final job ended, she officially retired from being a mercenary and returned to Pamela and Charlie. With her lovers in tow, she returned home to Lawrence. Ellen Harvelle welcomed all three with open arms.
The Trans journeyed to the Capital after the War and immediately went to work. Linda and Kevin led the rebuilding effort and settled into their new home. Kevin became a prominent scholar. He wrote about the history of the Realm, drawing upon his experiences with the Metatron and the Long War. Linda Tran joined the king’s army, which had shifted its focus to peacekeeping and protection, and worked her way up the ranks almost as quickly as the previous record holder, Dean. Five years later, once Rufus finally convinced Robert Singer to officially retire, people called her Captain Tran. She liked that.
Rufus Turner, along with the no-longer Captain Singer, disappeared from the pages of history once they left the Capital. It is believed that they spent their last years in the village of Rufus’s birth in peace. It did not, however, stop them from arguing. It suited them both just fine. Neither one could live without the other. Besides, Bobby liked Rufus’s daughter’s cooking.
No one knew what happened to the Mother. Many historians, writing about the Long War hundreds of years later, doubted she existed at all. All the historians agreed, however, that the Creatures of the Night disappeared five years after the War without a sound. If they ever thought to look, the historians would have found a village deep in the woods. There, they would have found people with unnaturally glowing eyes with family names such as Fitzgerald and Lafitte. They were just people and families, living out their days free of bloodlust. That was their thanks, their gift.
Thousands of years after the Long War, when people used automated carriages and artificial lights, a legend took root in the culture. They believed in an afterlife, in a place hidden in the sky that all good people went to when they died. They called the place Heaven. Perhaps it did exist. Perhaps, as the people said, it was created by an entity known as God. Perhaps the agents of God, the beings the people called angels, were truly the Celestials of yore.
Perhaps.
But that was far into the future, far beyond the lives of the Heroes of the Long War.
Dean and Castiel never returned to the Capital. After sending Sam ahead with his official letter of resignation, Dean decided to take the long way home. He and Castiel travelled the Realm, seeing the beauty of its new age of peace.
Those adventures, however, were stories for another time.
Eventually, Dean and Castiel returned to Lawrence. Celebrations brought on by their arrival lasted weeks. Once everyone slept off their hangovers, the villagers banded together to help Dean and Castiel build their house, their home, complete with a guest room for Sam and his growing family. Soon, they had a modest farm. They planted some wheat. They even had a few animals. After Dean became enamoured with a black Impala horse, they ended up building a stable.
Dean named her Baby.
Sam and Jessica visited frequently, bringing their daughters to see their uncles. Rosemary loved playing, eager to wave around her wooden sword and act out grand stories about heroes. Dean was all too happy to indulge her whims. With her mother’s hair and her father’s eyes, Dean could not help but be completely wrapped around Rosemary’s little finger.
Much like her namesake, Deanna became instantly fond of Castiel. She sat in his lap, wide eyed in wonder, listening to his tales of adventure. He did not tell her everything, of course, but, as she grew older, he did not shy away from telling her the truth.
Years later, when her uncles were old and grey, Deanna picked up a pen and started to write. She wrote a book, one based on the tales Castiel told her.
She called it The Angel.