driftfleet | .oo1 / video + action

Entry tags:

.oo1 / video + action

Who: Castiel (the cool one),
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: The Marsiva
When: January 20th, late morning.

[ waking up confused isn't necessarily anything particularly new for castiel, but generally speaking in that case he's usually hungover, and when the fog clears he's in his bed, somewhere safe and familiar, not somewhere, well - like this. immediately he's alert and awake, feeling under his pillow for a knife that isn't there, sharp, instinctual panic burgeoning in his gut, but he controls it. you better bet he's got no idea he's being watched, too.

it's peaceful. this place reminds him of heaven, with its clean, sleek design and cool, quiet atmosphere, but he doesn't trust it any more than he trusts heaven. tense and wary, one hand flies immediately to his throat, then he's pulling it back to look at is as if he's expecting to see something there, but it's clean, and when he tugs up his shirt there's no blood there either, no bullet holes, no gaping wounds, only the same old scars. castiel stands, runs both hands through his unkempt hair, and eases in a steadying breath. he's a rangy looking thing, with a lean, hungry look about him, overgrown scruff and hair but hey - at least he's clean. cleaner than he's been in a long while. and someone did him the service of mending the long worn holes in his jeans and canvas jacket so that's.. nice. i guess.

all right, inventory first. his knife and handgun are both missing, naturally, but that doesn't mean he has to be happy about it. sitting again on the edge of his bunk, in his pockets he finds a mostly full pack of cigarettes with two joints stuffed in with them, a blue plastic bic lighter, a half bottle of pills, a two month old supply list, creased and folded, and a bottlecap. not too much of use when it comes to keeping yourself alive. exhaling in a puff of air, he stuffs it all back into his pockets, even the list and the bottlecap, and gets to his feet again. might as well pick around, right?

and by pick around i mean find the cafeteria almost instantly and gawp in awe at all of the food. ]

.. you're kidding me.

[ when you live in a world where things like toilet paper are scarce treasures, you really learn to appreciate food. there is zero hesitation before cas is all but diving at it like a man starved, picking at everything indiscriminately, eating and drinking and eating some more. he doesn't sit, only hovers near the counters like a buzzard over roadkill, and you'd better bet he's filling his pockets, too, with everything and anything he can fit.

all right, so maybe this isn't so bad. he should probably be wary of the food and all, but it's far too late for that. feel free to stumble across him/interrupt him at any point, he has no idea he's on candid camera. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Sam stares for a long moment at what is undoubtedly Castiel.

Castiel, who is... filling his pockets with food. Questionable. Something's off already, because even in Adstringendum, he wasn't really this dramatic about scavenging for something to eat. When he was human, anyway.

What the hell? You okay, dude.

(No offense, but things alter your person almost as much as it alters his.)]

... Whatever happened to counting calories?

[It's the first thing that comes out of his mouth, sue him.

That sure is buffet, friend.]

[ cas has talked with a good handful of people today, but none of them have given him pause nearly so much as this voice, familiar even after five years, cutting through his memory like the crack of a whip.

castiel's got a cheese sandwich en route to his mouth, but it stalls midway. his shoulders stiffen, and it takes him a moment to get up the nerve to glance toward the screen.

no. he can't be here. that's not possible.

but it's sam's face that greets him when he brings himself to look. sam's. not lucifer's. he can read it in the subtle lines, the way sam looks older and leaner, the look in his eyes bearing an expression lucifer would never wear. ]

.. Sam.

[ sorry, that's it. he needs a minute here buddy. ]

[He smiles fondly, even if he's confused out of his fucking mind.

You look — really off, buddy ol' pal.]

Hey. Uhm...

Welcome to space? I'm sure you're familiar in some way with it. Being an old man and all.

[ off is a real nice way to put it, buddy. go ahead and say it. he totally looks like shit.

except he looks like less shit than normal because he's nice and clean, and there aren't any holes in his clothes for some reason. apparently it's important to look pretty. but they didn't shave his face or cut his hair, so i mean, they didn't do that great a job. ]

I've been here before, if that's what you mean.

[ i mean not here here, but - anyway. he's just gonna.. drop down into the nearest chair, here, because he needs to, and drag a hand over his mouth in a way that might, oddly enough, remind you of dean. ]

Sam, I'm -- [ god, what the hell even ] -- this is bizarre. What are you doing here?

[QUESTIONABLE BEHAVIOR, TOO.

Sam has already realized that this isn't the Cas he knew from Adstringendum. It has to be some other one, one ripped from home. Because that Castiel would not bat an eye at this or call it bizarre, to say the least.

Unless he's missing something more crucial than that.]

Well, same as you, man. I guess we can start this easily enough: you've been kind of kidnapped out of our world and into this one. I'm betting our timelines might be, uh... a little off, though.

You alright?

[ SORRY SAM he's been around your brother way too damn long.

at any rate, he's listening closely, even if there's an odd ringing in his ears. sam is so familiar and yet so distant all at once - has it truly been five years since he's heard his voice? so short a time and yet it yawns like an eternity. ]

Yeah, I'm - I'm fine, Sam. [ fine as he'll ever be, so that's relative, really, and he's actually not really fine at all. but i mean, he knows how this goes. he knows how you become president, ok. sitting back, he sighs, his eyes flicking downward. ] It's, uh.. it's good to see you, Sam. It's been awhile.

[ timelines definitely off uh yeah ]

[HEEEEE is noting with some alarm-ness that you are not the only Castiel on his feed.

This just got weird fast. Don't make this weirder, Sam.]

I only just saw you around the bunker recently; when's the last time we spoke?

[ yeah he's not paying attention to any sort of feed, the only feed he's worried about is these counters of delicious food.

except he's a little more distracted by you right now, sam. ]

Bunker? [ ?? ] Uh.. long time ago. Five years now, I think.

Yeah. You know, the Men of Letters bunker?

[He asks, but he has an idea that you don't... know about it. Which is strange.

Either you're an amnesiac or you're from... not his world. But...]

Five years? I saw you a month or two ago...

...

What year are you from?

[ men of letter bunker, sam says, and castiel shakes his head, eyebrows up, no recognition at all.

time is strange, though, and cas's answer won't help clear anything up, unfortunately. not that he knows that, yet, and it's funny having this conversation when he'd had one so similar with dean, just a day ago. not his dean. a different --

.. time is strange. ]

2014. How about you?

... 2015, going on 16.

[He rubs the back of his neck, quiet.]

I don't remember you looking — like this last year, for sure.

What the hell's going on back home, for you?

[ cas is silent for awhile, thoughtful, leaning back in his chair and running two fingers across his scruffy chin. ]

Nothing fun, I promise you.

[ he says, after awhile, then sucks a breath through his teeth and squints his eyes thoughtfully, finally lowering his gaze to the screen again. it's occurring to him, like an itch in the back of his mind - the memories are all pretty fresh for him, after all, and zachariah wouldn't have let dean die, would have taken him back to his own timeline.

rubbing his neck, cas sits forward again, brow pulled together in a sharp crease. ]

So, almost 2016.. Sam, where's Lucifer? What happened to the apocalypse? Did you kill him?

[Sam stares at him for a long moment, as if he didn't quite catch that.]

You... Of course we did. Of course, man, we —

You and Dean, Bobby, we all put him back in the Cage. It's been years since then.

[Sam can put a few things together. And things aren't boding well for this Castiel.

What the holy hell? Is he implying that Lucifer was a concern, a year ago?

Because the big problem was definitely related, sure, but...]

[ somewhere deep in his gut there's a knot that loosens a little, though it aches all the same. cas stares into the feed, quietly astonished, his eyes fixed on sam's face, steady and unblinking before he finally exhales slow and easy. ]

Good, that's.. that's good.

[ and something he's going to need to process. lucifer might not be dead, but back in the cage - that's certainly better than out and free, even if it likely means a heap of trouble for heaven. ]

And you, Sam, you.. you didn't say yes? You, or Dean?

[... Ah. Sam wasn't going to mention anything of the sort — wasn't going to go into their plan, even if this was potentially a bad end Castiel, as it seems to be shaping up into. It doesn't matter who said yes, doesn't matter how it went down. But. Sam won't lie to Castiel over something like this. Even if this isn't... the same Castiel he fought satan with — (how the hell) — he deserves to know.

He looks down, shaking his head. He hasn't talked about this in a while.]

I said yes. It was... part of a plan we agreed on. We used the four horsemen rings to open the door and shove him back down into the Cage. It's... it's good, Cas. Everything's good.

[Weird, using 'Cas'. But this is still partly his Cas. At some point, he knew this one. Something must've just gotten messed up down the line, right? Like that stupid alternate universe with the actors. Or when the angels tried to mess them up with the whole Smith and Wesson thing.

He's quiet for a moment. Something in Cas' gut loosens, but Sam's chest tightens.

He wants to know.]

What the hell happened, Cas? In your 2014.

Did I...?

[ cas is sure his attention hasn't been so raptly focused on any one person in a long time. his gaze doesn't waver, intense even through the video feed; probably helps that he's stone cold sober, but for this moment he's glad to be. makes it easier to internalize all of this. to.. appreciate it.

it pulls at him somewhere deep. this, all of this - it's so incredibly personal. confronting lucifer might seem all but ancient history to sam, but for cas.. it's fresh, it's raw, it's a thing that's been eating at him for years, slow and arduous. they might not have gotten to lucifer in time in his own reality (they might not have killed him at all, for all cas knows, but he can't think about that, can't consider that), but that it worked out for them..

whatever lesson zachariah meant to teach dean when he hurtled him into cas's own future - it backfired somewhere along the way. dean took something back from 2014 that zachariah hadn't intended on, and that's.. really, really goddamned gratifying.

but then sam's asking the hard questions, and cas sighs, deep and heavy. just like sam can't bring himself not to tell him what he knows, that street seems to run both ways. and even though cas is unnerved by the very sight of him, even though he hasn't spoken with sam in years, he remembers what it was like, remembers when sam was something like a friend, and he can't help but wonder if maybe the sam he'd known, the one who'd said yes - maybe he'd been trying for the very same thing. maybe without dean at his side, he'd failed, and they'd all paid the price.

he doesn't know. can't know. but he's still got to give sam the truth. there's no reason not to, anyway. ]

You said yes. I don't know why, or how. We were well on the path to destruction at by that point anyway, but..

[ a vague gesture. nail in the coffin, really. ]

[Sam has to work very hard not to wilt, but you know him. The sad look that follows is hard to keep at bay. So he'd... So this was a Castiel created because he said yes and failed. Guilt burns strongly at the thought, and even if he logically knows the Sam Cas knew isn't him, he also can't tell what of that Sam's burden he's supposed to take. Because it was some form of him. He's betting it was exactly him, all the way up to that moment where he'd said yes, too.

Sam swallows a lump.]

Then, in your time — the apocalypse...

... I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you exactly why I'd...

[This is a good way to slap him upside the back of the head with the past. With the potential failure he could have done. How the hell is he supposed to digest that.]

Dean, Bobby and you, you helped me get back control when I needed it most. Wouldn't have happened otherwise; I couldn't have taken him out without you guys. I'm just. I'm sorry, man.

Don't.

[ the word is sharp, quick, and cas raises both hands, palm-out toward the feed, eyes averted at last. he doesn't want to hear it. can't hear it. he's sorry, too. he's been sorry for five long years, sorry that billions of people are dead because he'd chosen wrong, because he'd screwed up, too. even if sam hadn't said yes, that wouldn't have stopped the virus. that wouldn't have kept the people of earth from slaughtering one another, sick and diseased or worse, over supplies, and panic.

lucifer would have exhausted vessel after vessel, burned through bodies like fire over dry grass, with no one to stand in his way. without dean to say yes, without sam being able to overcome his influence, without castiel making wrong decision after wrong decision - it's not any one man's fault. it's all of their faults. and sam? this one, right here? ]

You did it. You don't get to apologize. You overcame him, Sam, that's what matters.

[ and cas, as sick and embittered as he is about his own end.. he's not going to discount that. can't bring himself to. ]

Don't be sorry for me. I'm just.. glad it worked out.

Yeah. Well. One of me let you down somewhere out there. Somewhere down the line.

[But of course Sam just exudes genuineness and blame for himself. Sam cares too much about everything, especially things he couldn't control or have any knowledge of — that's always kind of been his problem. He blamed himself for Jess, for Dean going to hell, for the Apocalypse and for what he did soulless; you bet your left asscheek he'll blame himself for this too. Even just a little. Still there.

Though, Sam tries to crush the thought of causing the Apocalypse out of his head. he's been in a better place, mentally. Since the church, anyway. Since Castiel had told him he has worth enough to not kill himself over what happened with the Trials and Kevin. He kind of is slowly coming to terms, that there are intricate mechanics to the cage opening. Small steps forward.]

Couldn't have done it without you guys, though. It was a close call. Literally had a few seconds to spare to even make the leap, honestly... Angels are tough bastards.

[Says the guy wrassling spiritually with satan.]

Stupid question, but... You gonna be okay?

Sure, and somewhere out there, I was a cat, and you were a dog, and Dean preferred cake over pie. You can't get caught up in the what-ifs, Sam.

[ it's enough to drive anyone crazy. and honestly? he doesn't want that, for sam. it's bad enough that he failed his own sam, somewhere along the line, bad enough that he hadn't tried harder to get him back, to prevent everything that happened - this sam, right here, he did the thing right. he kicked its ass, and went down fighting for it, saved the whole damn world, he's not allowed to regret what a different sam did in a different timeline. this cross - it's cas's to bear, and he's not going to let anyone take that weight off of him, not going to let anyone else carry it, least of all someone who succeeded, help or no help.

then of course sam has to be good enough to ask if he's going to be okay, to which castiel just laughs, though it's a mirthless sound, thin and throaty, and he leans to snag the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, lighting one up without hesitation. what he really needs is a stiff goddamned drink, but it's just going to have to do. ]

You don't have to worry about that, and you don't have to worry about me.

[ taking a deep drag, cas pops his booted feet up onto the chair next to him and leans back. sure, it's evasive, but what else is he meant to say? no, i'm not. i'm never gonna be okay. but i'm going to keep on going, anyway. he's not going to lie, because despite it all, he's still too honest for his own good, still not much of a liar. ]

You just said it, right? Angels are tough bastards.

[Well, he sure the hell isn't going to tell you about how angels are doing in his timeline, okay. Instead he just smiles — a bit sadly, because he wears that ache well enough. He's too spiritually old for a human being, to do any less.]

Of course I'd worry about you, man. We're friends in any timeline; it's what we do.

Besides, angels also get into hot water sometimes, too.

[... Also he's been a dog before. But he'll just let you feel you won that one.]

Hey, Sam...?

... Ah. Shit.

I forgot to private, didn't I?

[He was too surprised to even think about that. Silly him. He doesn't seem too upset by the idea, but he's already kind of bummed out by this... entire conversation anyway, so there's a sort of defeat sigh to his reply. What a dumb oversight.]

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[ yeah sam, please wait until he's reasonably high and/or drunk to start whipping out things like dog sam on him. i mean.. it's not like he hasn't seen weirder shit at home anyway, but still. he's not medicated enough for that right now.

sam calling him a friend, though - that hits somewhere deep. because sam.. he and sam.. well, they never really had the chance to be anything but allies, didn't have the opportunity to work past any issues before the world went down the drain, and while he'd had his doubts about sam when they'd first met, he'd always been a little sore about the missed opportunity.

because cas has changed. he's got a hell of a lot more regrets than he'd ever had years ago, and not reaching out to sam.. that's definitely one of them. especially considering all that occurred. considering how his reality might have been entirely different if he'd taken the time to find him, to drag dean along kicking and screaming if need be. but he's learned that lesson. if sam, this sam wants to do the friend thing.. he's not going to turn it down. even if he's reasonably sure that he isn't worth the effort sam's bothering to put out.

but second chances, and all that. whatever's gone on between them in the past, right now, sam is being genuine. ]

All right, fair enough. [ he says, amiably, exhaling smoke through his nose. ] But I'll manage. I've made it this far, and this place? [ vague gesture. ] Hell of a lot better than home, so.

[Yeah, well. You're his homie back home. That's all that Sam really needs.

He sighs out his nose, running a hand over the crown of his head.]

I can imagine. You dealt with... the Croats, I'm guessing?

[That was another hurdle they successfully got over.]

... Are you alright with talking about any of it? Home, I mean. I get if you'd rather not.