Awful, Horrific, Beautiful, Perfect
Oct. 28th, 2009 05:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sunspotTitle: Awful, Horrific, Beautiful, Perfect
Fandom: Supernatural and Good Omens
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 680
Warnings: spoilers through the end of s4 of Supernatural. Nothing really for GO.
Summary: If Castiel is having doubts, if he is questioning, it is better to talk to someone who has already been there.
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is property of its owner, either CW/Eric Kripke or Neil Gaiman and Terry Prachett. I'm just toying with them for the fun of it.
Alternately, you can read at AO3.
"You know," the taller angel said, leaning on the railing overlooking the river. "I think you rather got yourself into this trouble."
Castiel said nothing.
"Getting involved... It's so messy, isn't it?" Aziraphale said, still looking out over the water. "But cheer up, friend. It's all going to work out."
"I am sure you're right." Castiel's expression was stoic enough, but there was a little something else in his tone. Sadness, maybe. Regret, possibly. And definitely doubt. Aziraphale remembered the first time he'd felt doubt. It was a prickling feeling, just under the first few layers of skin. You really noticed it in the back of your throat.
That doubt was the hardest thing for Aziraphale to hear. He had always secretly thought Castiel was exactly the kind of angel he had been before he'd been posted to Earth. Devout and obedient, serious and very good at what he did, provided he only ever did what he was told to do. But then, like Aziraphale, Castiel had made a choice. It was like reliving it all over again.
Aziraphale's heart went out to his brother.
He would be the first to admit he'd made a bit of a cock-up of that whole flaming sword business (well, Crowley would be the first to admit it), but Aziraphale liked to think he had redeemed himself in the meantime. But if the books were right and the apocalypse was upon them, then Castiel didn't have the five or six millennia to make up for his choice that Aziraphale had had. Castiel had just a few short weeks to make up for choosing Dean Winchester over the entire angelic plan.
"Ineffable," Aziraphale muttered. The word was out almost before he realized it.
Castiel turned and looked him in the eye in the way that Aziraphale had long since learned is unnerving to most people. "You keep saying that word."
"It means exactly what I think it means, you know." Aziraphale hazarded a small smile. Castiel did not return it. "It means sort of something we don't talk about because it's divine. The ineffable plan. It also means inexpressible. Maybe that's why we don't talk about it?"
Castiel turned back to water, leaning heavily on the railing next to Aziraphale. His overlarge coat fluttered in the night wind. "But why not talk about it? Why this? Why end the world?"
"S'like the flood, isn't it? Starting from scratch?" Aziraphale tugged his own coat tighter around him. In recent centuries he had started to feel more and more and the air was chilly. "There's a lot of bad in this old world, Castiel."
"That is true."
Aziraphale could hear the doubt in his voice from miles away. "But?"
"But how can a person taste... fresh fruit and find it delicious? How can someone enjoy the feeling of a lover's fingers in their hair? Or smell coming rain in the wind and marvel? How can any of that happen without the bad and the pain in their lives to show the difference? Even in the hate and the death and the weeping, there is light. It's all His creation. I don't..." his voice almost broke. "I don't understand"
It was the most words Castiel had said all at once in a long time. He sighed from the stress of it and put his head in his hands. It was too much, he thought, too much to have this conflict inside him. "Can you tell me?"
Aziraphale put his hand on Castiel shoulder. "I cannot." He thought for a second and then pulled Castiel away from the railing and into a hug. Castiel stiffened for a moment and then, rather awkwardly, put one arm around Aziraphale's back. "You're right," Aziraphale whispered into his ear, just barely loud enough to make out the words. "This world is awful and horrific and beautiful and perfect. Save it."
They stood apart then, not meeting each other's eyes. "Let me know, then. If I can help," Aziraphale said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Castiel inclined his head. "I will. Thank you." Then he was gone.
Fandom: Supernatural and Good Omens
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 680
Warnings: spoilers through the end of s4 of Supernatural. Nothing really for GO.
Summary: If Castiel is having doubts, if he is questioning, it is better to talk to someone who has already been there.
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is property of its owner, either CW/Eric Kripke or Neil Gaiman and Terry Prachett. I'm just toying with them for the fun of it.
Alternately, you can read at AO3.
"You know," the taller angel said, leaning on the railing overlooking the river. "I think you rather got yourself into this trouble."
Castiel said nothing.
"Getting involved... It's so messy, isn't it?" Aziraphale said, still looking out over the water. "But cheer up, friend. It's all going to work out."
"I am sure you're right." Castiel's expression was stoic enough, but there was a little something else in his tone. Sadness, maybe. Regret, possibly. And definitely doubt. Aziraphale remembered the first time he'd felt doubt. It was a prickling feeling, just under the first few layers of skin. You really noticed it in the back of your throat.
That doubt was the hardest thing for Aziraphale to hear. He had always secretly thought Castiel was exactly the kind of angel he had been before he'd been posted to Earth. Devout and obedient, serious and very good at what he did, provided he only ever did what he was told to do. But then, like Aziraphale, Castiel had made a choice. It was like reliving it all over again.
Aziraphale's heart went out to his brother.
He would be the first to admit he'd made a bit of a cock-up of that whole flaming sword business (well, Crowley would be the first to admit it), but Aziraphale liked to think he had redeemed himself in the meantime. But if the books were right and the apocalypse was upon them, then Castiel didn't have the five or six millennia to make up for his choice that Aziraphale had had. Castiel had just a few short weeks to make up for choosing Dean Winchester over the entire angelic plan.
"Ineffable," Aziraphale muttered. The word was out almost before he realized it.
Castiel turned and looked him in the eye in the way that Aziraphale had long since learned is unnerving to most people. "You keep saying that word."
"It means exactly what I think it means, you know." Aziraphale hazarded a small smile. Castiel did not return it. "It means sort of something we don't talk about because it's divine. The ineffable plan. It also means inexpressible. Maybe that's why we don't talk about it?"
Castiel turned back to water, leaning heavily on the railing next to Aziraphale. His overlarge coat fluttered in the night wind. "But why not talk about it? Why this? Why end the world?"
"S'like the flood, isn't it? Starting from scratch?" Aziraphale tugged his own coat tighter around him. In recent centuries he had started to feel more and more and the air was chilly. "There's a lot of bad in this old world, Castiel."
"That is true."
Aziraphale could hear the doubt in his voice from miles away. "But?"
"But how can a person taste... fresh fruit and find it delicious? How can someone enjoy the feeling of a lover's fingers in their hair? Or smell coming rain in the wind and marvel? How can any of that happen without the bad and the pain in their lives to show the difference? Even in the hate and the death and the weeping, there is light. It's all His creation. I don't..." his voice almost broke. "I don't understand"
It was the most words Castiel had said all at once in a long time. He sighed from the stress of it and put his head in his hands. It was too much, he thought, too much to have this conflict inside him. "Can you tell me?"
Aziraphale put his hand on Castiel shoulder. "I cannot." He thought for a second and then pulled Castiel away from the railing and into a hug. Castiel stiffened for a moment and then, rather awkwardly, put one arm around Aziraphale's back. "You're right," Aziraphale whispered into his ear, just barely loud enough to make out the words. "This world is awful and horrific and beautiful and perfect. Save it."
They stood apart then, not meeting each other's eyes. "Let me know, then. If I can help," Aziraphale said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Castiel inclined his head. "I will. Thank you." Then he was gone.
