Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
There is a fleeting moment in which Castiel considers turning away from his brother. Gabriel has approached him on a meaningless day, time flowing as freely and fleetingly as ever. Time has no real control over the resplendence of Heaven, and thus it is difficult to gauge how many moments pass as Castiel stares into the gaping essence of the archangel. Nothing has been spoken aloud, angels are made of sound, but they do not need it to communicate. Instead there is an incessant pushing feeling creeping into the vaults of Castiel’s consciousness. Gabriel being the Messenger-of-God has more access than any of the Host, and his request is easy to hear.
Come with me.
Castiel can feel him, but he is at a loss for understanding. His confusion is met with Gabriel’s Grace pushing again, a feeling of 'must go must leave cannot be alone pleasepleaseplease’ . Castiel relents.
Pushing the feeling of ‘yes, yes I will come’ , Castiel allows his multitude of eyes to close, embracing the warm feeling of his elder brother. He is unsure why he was chosen of all his brothers and sisters, but he has no time to contemplate as Gabriel’s Grace envelops him, and then they are hurtling toward Earth.
~*~
Their landing is hard and brutal, even wrapped up in his elder brother as he is. Castiel feels Gabriel writhe, golden wings flexing open to allow for his release. The seraph flutters out of the archangels hold, and belatedly realizes that Gabriel has cut off Castiel from the song of the Host during their fall. He releases a mournful cry.
Brother, what have you done? Castiel calls, even as Gabriel hauls himself upright. Castiel is still strong, still far above anything humans could comprehend, but like this he cannot hear his sibling’s voices.
Congratulations Castiel , Gabriel croons, one tentacle-like wing snaking through the grassy ground and wrapping around the seraph. You’re officially in the after-life .
Realistically, it makes sense that Gabriel would fake their deaths. Even without the song of the Host in his head, Castiel can hear the clashing of blades and screeching of his brethren as they battle on the plane adjacent to the Earth. His very life-essence is totally and intrinsically attached to Gabriel’s now. His world, in every meaning of the word, is now Gabriel. Said brother still has a wing coiled around Castiel, and he sighs in relief as Grace soothes Castiel’s injuries from their landing. Gabriel’s remaining wings writhe and flutter, and then they are once again airborne. Castiel keeps his own wings carefully folded into himself, because he is unsure of where they are going and even less sure he could help steer even if he wanted to.
Before long, they land in a field almost as green and luscious as Eden had been. An almost overwhelming amount of trees and foliage cover the area, vibrant colors swirling into the countless greens and browns of Earth. In the center, there is a dark woman with long and tightly-coiled hair standing in the clearing with beautiful flowers blooming throughout her scalp. She does not startle when they arrive, nor does she turn to look at them. At first Castiel assumes she does not see them, but then miraculously, she turns to stare at them dead-on. If the lack of a reaction to their true forms didn’t give it away, the inhuman eyes and skeletal nose do. The woman, Gaia Gabriel tells him as he observes, has liquid gold where eyes should rest in sockets. Her nose, or rather lack thereof, exposes a cavern of bone and lack of any sort of tissue. The rest of her body is pristine, even nude as it is. Gaia smiles at them.
“Welcome, weary travellers.” She greets, and Gabriel dips his great head. In his trueform he is far larger than any mountain on the Earth, so he kneels on two great legs and four massive arms. His wings are coiling restlessly, even as Gabriel bends those last few feet to put his head even with Gaia.
Very few humans can perceive an angel’s true voice, but Gaia is no human. Gabriel speaks.
HELLO, SHE-WHO-TENDS-EARTH. WE SEEK REFUGE AND VESSELS THAT WE MAY SET FOOT UPON YOUR DOMAIN.
Gaia does not flinch back from the power of the Messenger’s voice. Instead she smiles beatifically, threads of gold and green spreading out over her skin. They dip and swirl as she walks, a deliberate and peaceful motion, and when she stops at the front of the colossus of Gabriel’s being, so do they.
“I will grant your request. What are you called?” She asks, gold pits of ink boring into the archangel.
I AM HE-WHO-SPEAKS-AND-OCEANS-ROAR, THE MESSENGER OF THE MOST HIGH AND JUDGEMENT-OF-GOD. He says, the foliage of the forest shaking in the currents of the archangel’s terrible power. BUT YOU MAY CALL ME GABRIEL. The angel adds, almost sheepishly. Gaia only laughs, reaching forward and resting a hand on Gabriel’s crown. Light shines to an almost blinding level, though Castiel does not shrink back. Instead he watches as Gaia draws the light forth, hand weaving intricate patterns in the air until a human shape takes form where once there was only air. Gabriel’s Grace follows the light into the vessel easily, slipping in with not a shred of hesitation. When the shine fades, Castiel’s brother is packed into a tiny frame. His wings no longer look as they once did, massive and coiling like a sea serpent. Instead they are distinctly avian, and where he once had twelve wings there are only six. Gabriel smirks.
“Thank you, Gaia.” He speaks, voice now appropriately human. Castiel can still taste the power that emanates from his tongue, but it no longer resonates through the forest like some terrible storm. Gaia is still smiling, but she nods in acknowledgement. She turns to Castiel.
“And you?”
Castiel feels his Grace shuddering, and wonders if it had hurt for Gabriel to condense himself into such a slight frame. Castiel is by no means as large as his brother; Where Gabriel had been thousands and thousands of feet, Castiel topped out at a little over a thousand. An ant, in comparison to a being like his brother. Gabriel is giving him a look, something Castiel is unfamiliar with as his time on Earth had been limited before now. Both of his eyebrows are drawn forward and sloping slightly down, and his mouth follows the same formula. Castiel looks to Gaia, who is waiting patiently for his answer.
I AM HE-WHO-IS-THE-SHIELD, CASTIEL. He finally says, bending forward as Gabriel had done. Gaia hums, reaching forward just as before and drawing light from the crown of his head. It feels natural, instinctive, to follow that light as his many eyes close. Gaia has not taken anything from his form, it would be impossible for her to even try. But she clearly has some way of creating from their essence, because when Castiel opens his eyes again he finds himself envesseled.
“Thank you,” He speaks. Gaia’s smile softens, and she places a hand on each of their shoulders. Castiel, he notes, is much taller than Gabriel now. Ironic, in a sense.
“I bestow these forms upon you, Gabriel who is the Judge,” She gazes at the archangel with a deeper meaning, then faces Castiel with an equally grim expression. “And Castiel, who is the Shield. Wear them well as you walk this planet.”
They both nod, and Gaia is back to smiling. She vanishes within one second and the next, off to tend the gardens of Earth. Gabriel sighs, spinning on his new heels and shooting Castiel a smile of his own.
“Well then, little one. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
~*~
Gabriel takes them to a small Pagan community just East of the sea. It is a small group of people, and they worship something called a ‘Norse Pantheon’. Castiel does not understand why they are here, but Gabriel likes intermingling with humanity so Castiel says nothing against it. His brother has taken him along the coasts and through many kingdoms, but he seems to have a preference for this town because they have been here a week and not yet left.
“There is a Pagan deity here,” Gabriel tells him, as if sensing Castiel’s unease. “They will teach us the Pagan magics so that we may blend in and our brothers do not find us.”
Castiel nods along, shifting uncomfortably in the seat Gabriel had set him in. They are in a tavern, and there is much noise and odor. Gabriel enjoys the merrymaking of humanity, and Castiel himself cannot find it in himself to be immune. His Grace sings with the songs of the bard on the tavern’s small stage, and he can feel his vessel smiling. They have been on Earth nearly a month now, and Castiel is slowly understanding what emotions are. What wonderful things, as scary as they are for an angel. But he is no longer just an angel, he reminds himself, even as his Grace reaches out for Gabriel. His brother does not comment on it, only reaching back and calming his fractured core.
“Hello,” A soft voice speaks from behind them, and both angels turn to address it. There is a tall woman with coal-soaked hair and eyes that shine like stars there. Her features are as delicate as her voice, though the severity of her aura dampens the ease Castiel may have once gained from her presence. “I am Mnemosyne. You are He-Who-Sends-Judgement and He-Who-Defends-Righteousness.”
Names have power, even among Pagans. Gaia may know their true names, but it was likely wise to give this Pagan goddess mere pseudonyms. Gabriel nods, and she smiles. Sitting gingerly between them, Mnemosyne pulls out two large pouches. The first is a dark umber, and she sets it in front of Gabriel. The other is a floral green that reminds Castiel of the Garden, and that one she sets in front of him.
“What are these?” Gabriel asks, picking his up to inspect it. Mnemosyne laughs softly, reaching up and tugging the binding string loose. The bag explodes into fine dust, forcing Gabriel to inhale. Castiel stands in alarm, but Gabriel flaps his arms at his brother in a motion he has come to understand as don’t bother . Castiel sits back down, though he is still uneasy.
“These will link you to the Font, where all Pagans draw their magic from. You will need worshipers to sustain it and become strong, but even the forgotten gods are known to the Font.” Mnemosyne explains, gesturing for Castiel to also unleash the powder into his face. It is not a pleasant experience. He gasps and chokes, an unusual feeling for a being who has no need of air. Still, he feels the effects of the magic imbue him, and Castiel releases a sigh once the substance has cleared from his vessel's throat.
They thank her, and she leaves in the same manner she had arrived in; Silently and unseen by the masses. She was there for a purpose, and it’s clear she had no intent of staying for ‘pleasantries’ as the humans did.
Castiel does not feel much different, but he can feel a thrum of power underneath his vessel’s skin. It is not unlike his trueform, where he has many appendages and limbs. It is separate from his Grace, but equal in proportion to his access. Gabriel seems to be having no trouble acclimating, and he snaps his fingers to test it. Instantly, a brimming glass of ale is before the archangel. He lets out a delighted laugh, grabbing and downing the drink rapidly.
"Incredible. It certainly cannot match up to our Grace, but it is very potent." Gabriel observes, inspecting his hand. Castiel does not think he'll end up using the magic much, but he can't deny that Gabriel is right in his thoughts. "Now, if we are to get stronger we must amass a following. And names!"
Which is how Gabriel somehow ends up known as Loki in a little Nordic town on the coast. Castiel himself isn't sure what his brother had done after they left the tavern, because he often found himself sitting on the cliffs overlooking the shores of the ocean. But he knows that 'Loki' is widely regarded as a trickster and a punisher of foul deeds, and overall it really isn't all that different from when they had been in Heaven. Castiel has yet to decide on what kind of god he wishes to be, and when he tells this to his brother Gabriel just grins and claps him on the shoulder.
"Don't rush it baby brother," he assures. He has been using more and more human terms, and sometimes Castiel struggles to keep up. He is not an infant, but Gabriel had explained the first time that 'baby' also means 'little' or 'small'. Humans sometimes confuse Castiel, but he can't find it in himself to begrudge them. "You'll figure it out."
Castiel puts it out of his mind for the time being, and a year passes without much incident. He wanders about the town even as Gabriel flits around the continents, and becomes it's silent protector. The town has built a temple to Loki by now, and Castiel oft finds himself lurking in its shadows. His vessel is apparently a form of his truest self made human, but something about it feels wrong to use as a visage of a god.
He is pale and tall, and his hair is black and unruly. Gabriel says he has eyes bluer than the oceans, and that it gives him an unearthly quality. Castiel had replied that his own eyes were no better, as he had yet to see a human with eyes more golden than the sun.
So instead, Castiel waits. He waits to find an opening or a moment when he feels like it is time to reveal himself a part of this Norse Pantheon. It comes on a day that the wind shakes the foundations of the homes, and screams are swallowed by the thick shade of the forests. But Castiel is no mortal, and he can hear someone begging help from miles within the dense foliage. He spreads his wings--now avian like Gabriel's own-- and lands silently.
Before him there are four men, hideous and foul looking inside and out. They laugh and spit as they grope and claw at a woman; Castiel realizes belatedly that she is a priestess of Loki's temple. She is weeping, even as she screams and begs for help. Half of her face has been torn to shreds, one of the men chortling as he holds what is left of it in his hand. Her body is beaten and bleeding, and bone sticks out sporadically across her naked body. Castiel can feel rage boiling.
Do not be afraid . He calls out to her. Even in her head she is screaming, begging for mercy. I will destroy your would-be captors. Do you consent?
"Yes!" She sobs aloud. The men pause in their torment, looking briefly confused. But Castiel is not looking at them, instead he is folding himself within the priestess, breathing life into her bones. He cannot heal her, not without using his Grace, but he stops the pain. Her soul shutters in relief.
"How dare you, " Castiel speaks, even as this woman's throat hangs in ribbons. He lets newfound power seep into his words, lets his eyes glow vicious flames in the imitation of the sun. The men back up in fear, but Castiel will not allow them to escape. He grabs them all and flies them to town in an instant, letting the thugs sprawl limply on the ground. The people milling about the village all stop instantly, frozen in fear and wonder at the spectacle that is Castiel.
"Men who would rend the flesh of an innocent will know the flames of Hell, " he yells, voice causing tremors under the ground. "This land is protected by my Father and thus by me. Those who defy the laws he has given you will perish. "
The men have managed to sit up now, and they are pleading for their lives. Begging, they say they didn't know, hadn't realized she was a goddess. But it is too late for them, Castiel has no patience for those who would defile God's creation, and he smites them in a fell swoop of his wings. Their bodies fall lifelessly to the ground, and the townspeople fall to their knees shortly after. They are in awe and worship, and Castiel blinks the fire and rage from his eyes.
"Forgive us, Hel, for we knew not the machinations of these men!" A woman begs from the direction of Loki's temple. Castiel turns to gaze on her. She is on hands and knees with her forehead to the ground, and Castiel approaches her calmly.
"Rise, child. I will not harm you, nor this town." He does not correct the name, because Castiel had been looking for a way to follow Gabriel’s footsteps, and this priestess has given it to him. It, admittedly, is not his first choice in name, but it is fitting all the same. "You need not worship me. I will come to claim the souls of the wicked, and they will know suffering."
The woman offers praises to him, but Castiel is uninterested. Instead, Castiel can see a reaper from his position on the stoop of the temple, and he flickers out of human eyesight in order to confront them. He approaches the reaper cautiously, pulling his Grace tight to him and exuding his Pagan magic as a precaution. The reaper only greets him with a nod.
"It has been awhile since I have borne witness to the birth of a Pagan," they say, taking in Castiel's form. "These men that have died are not bound for my Father's kingdom. Do you consent to becoming their keeper?"
Castiel pauses; he has options here. He can just as easily leave these souls to the depths of Hell. He would wash his hands of them and leave them to the racks, and barely a thought would pass of them. But alternatively, Castiel needs a way to sustain his magic and he does not want worshipers the way Gabriel has. Something about taking worship meant for his Father irks Castiel, despite knowing that it would sustain his cover. But he needs power, needs a way to keep hiding from the Host. Consuming these souls is a way to do that. Mind made up, Castiel nods.
"I will take them. Those who are meant for Heaven will not feel my touch."
The reaper stares a moment more, as if calculating a proper response, but does not refute Castiel. Instead they tip their head in acknowledgement and vanish.
Castiel sighs, feeling around in the vessel for the woman who's body he had taken. She is there, but weak and pitiful.
I can release you now . He tells her quietly, but her consciousness recoils.
No, she begs. Please, I beg that you would allow me rest. You have avenged me, and I am at peace.
I can not release you to Valhalla. He warns. My being will devour you, and you will be in oblivion.
The woman does not seem surprised by this. That is alright. As long as I am no longer tormented.
That is how Hel is born.
~*~
Castiel stays in the town for many years. He protects it as Hel, and subsequently is thought to be Loki's daughter, but mostly he assumes the guise Gaia had given him all those years ago. It is easier to go unnoticed that way, and garners far less attention. He still collects souls as Hel, and he travels some. Never far, not like Gabriel, but enough to see the wonders of his Father's creation. He has grown fond of this little town, of the people and the animals that inhabit it’s borders. Mostly, he is worried if he is gone long that a terrible fate may befall his new home.
Gabriel never stays away long either. The town, Elbeuf, had been the first to welcome the new gods. It is as much home now for Castiel as it is Gabriel. It has changed over the years, as has the planet, but the respect for the gods has not. They are faithful worshipers of Loki, and have become a mecca for his ilk. They do not worship Hel, he had been adamant in rejecting any offerings not meant to benefit the passing of souls. The Nordic people as a whole have accepted her though, and she is where the souls of the wicked, cowardly, and cruel go to be devoured.
It is over a hundred years before Castiel earns yet another name. He had been gone from Elbeuf only two days, Hel had been needed to collect souls in an encampment further to the East. When he returned to the small coastal town, it had been razed to the ground. Loki's temple had been all but burned to ashes, houses and establishments aflame. His home has been pillaged, the people he knew and had loved for hundreds of years, now nothing but rotting corpses.
Castiel wails, and something in him snaps as he watches raiders hack and slash at his people. He feels a surge of power, energy bursting forth and intertwining with his Pagan magic. Where there had been human skin now lie scales, hair becoming rigid and webbed, teeth and body alike elongating until he was tall, taller than he had ever been on a visible plane of existence. His form seeps into the sea, and the screams of his people mix with the screams of the invaders as he snaps his jaws.
Peripherally Castiel can feel Gabriel, can feel his sorrow intermingling with his own, but he does not stop. He writhes and bites and consumes until he cannot find any more of the foul humans who dared to trespass on his territory. By the time he is done, those who remain bow low in the presence of Loki and the great beast, crying out gratefully.
Loki tells them they can no longer stay here, that erecting temples to an outcast god will only cause them strife, and they leave. By sundown tales of Jormungandr, the great serpent who will devour the world, has reached the far ends of the continent.
Castiel curls himself back into the form gifted to him by Gaia, and weeps.
~*~
He is Narfi for a grand total of a day. Gabriel comes to him in a panic, begging him to help. He has been far more active in the Norse Pantheon than Castiel has, and so far it has caused nothing but trouble. Loki is to be punished for the murder of Baldur, bound in the entrails of his beloved son Narfi, but no such child exists. Gabriel would never bring about Nephilim, not when it would bring the eyes of Heaven upon them. Still, when he tells them he has no son, the Pantheon does not believe him. Humans are powerful this way, convincing even gods of fiction rather than fact. So Castiel does what a good brother ought, and plays his role. He adjusts his form until he is shorter, blonde, and toned in a way only an archer can be.
Castiel allows this vessel to be torn open and tied around Gabriel, and the Norse gods leave them upon a mountain with the sun beating down and poison dripping on Loki's head.
After they have left, Gabriel heals Castiel's vessel with a touch, and they never return to that rock.
~*~
Fenrir is probably not the last name Castiel will assume, but it is the newest. He has grown fond of changing his form, as is evidenced by his stint as an eight-legged horse called Sleipnir, and Gabriel teases him mercilessly.
"Well, you truly are man's best friend now," he goads as Castiel lays by the fire. He is in the form of a massive, shaggy wolf. He found the creatures to be beautiful, strong and loyal animals that radiated calm destructive power. "The humans have already given this one a name. Fenrir, indomitable and fearless. They think you another one of my children."
Castiel huffs through his maw, but does not look at Gabriel. "It does me no good that I only ever spend time with you in any of my forms." He agrees.
In truth, neither of them mind. Castiel had never been terribly social, even among the Host. He was a soldier first and foremost, and thus was not programmed like other types of angel. Still, he does spend much time among humans. Humans rarely expect anything from him in his human guise, and it is soothing. It allows him to simply observe, to learn and embrace humanity instead of destroy. As much as he misses Heaven, misses the song of the Host in his mind, he does not miss the destruction wrought by their battles.
"Eh, I don't mind so much. Gives me cred among the Pagans, that they think I can create children so strong from such a 'young' age," Gabriel says, watching Castiel lounge by the flames. "Drives Odin mad that I'm supposedly so much younger but so much more powerful. If only they knew."
Castiel hums, shifting lazily to warm his belly. Gabriel falls quiet, but neither are uncomfortable. Instead, their Grace reaches out to each other, and they are content. No, they no longer were part of the Host. But here on Earth, with strange magic and stranger beings, they were content.