Woah woah wait, they're totally not fine, they've started an apocalypse!
And God would retort: no. They are acting of their own volition, they hurt, they care, they fuck up, they hate, they love, they live and live. They are raging against the dying of the light, and thus are exactly as they should be, no matter what.
My Castiel is sad. Maybe he will be angry sometime after the fic is over, but for now he is just sad and bewildered and confused. This fic is EXACTLY like realizing your parents are regular people, that is EXACTLY it. Well, except maybe more theological, but HAHA, the show is totally making the theological about family anyway, so it can work. The family that prays together, yanno.
I think the first line of this fic is gonna be, "The amulet starts to burn somewhere over the Sulu Sea." I have this image of Cas just hovering in the air all caught up in the amulet that he doesn't notice the jet plane until it's a little too late. I mean, then Cas zooms off towards Manila of course, but the pilot is all, "...Did I just see what I thought saw?"
OH AND HERE IS ANOTHER SCENE. So, they're in God's rented room at the boarding house (He closed up shop early to talk with Cas, I guess), and now the visit is over and Cas is about to leave. But he hesitates, and he thinks maybe he shouldn't ask this question, but maybe now that he's here he can't help himself, and he is both fearful and hopeful when he asks, falters, asks, "Father... may I see You?"
And God knows that Castiel means see Him in His true form, and then there's a MOMENT, yanno. God's expression softens and Castiel can't tell if it's love or pity or something else, and God asks, "What about your vessel? For him to see me in my true form would damage--" but then Cas gets this panicked anguished expression on his face, and God takes pity on him and sighs, "I'll protect your vessel."
And so there, in this dingy room that smells of old food and anti-mosquito coils, God seeps out of the human form. Likewise, Castiel lets what is angelic of him expand beyond Jimmy Novak's body, expanding in ways and directions humans can't even conceive, but as boggling as the angelic may be to a human, the godly is infinitely moreso to an angel, to everyone, everything. In his true form, Castiel is dwarfed before God and feels the love ripped out of him and is relieved for it, is joyful, is reverent, is home. He loves his Father, has always loved Him, and here He is, here is the consummation of an eternity of the joyful longing we call faith, tucked away in the second-floor room of a modest boarding house with peeling paint and rusted gates.
My son, God says, and His voice is the light in which empires rise and fall.
Castiel falls into his Father's embrace and sobs adonai, adonai, sobs allah akbar. Castiel cries alleluia to the high heavens as his Father holds him close and calls him beloved in a thousand, thousand languages.
(In the room next door, Rdentor Sison feels the ache in his back subside and the methamphetamine sadness in his heart dissipate. Downstairs, Manuel Donato pauses in the middle of sweeping and remembers his wife, so young and beautiful and far away in the south of the country, and he thinks he should call her and remind her that he loves her, that he breathes her with every beat of his heart. Out in the garden, Elena Duterte raises her head and thinks today will be the day she finally stops drinking.
There is an invisible golden light that unfurls from this house, spreading through Manila, flowing through the streets like blood in arteries. It settles somewhere deep and soft inside the city's inhabitants, and chases the darkness away. Manila is a city of 20 million people, 20 million dreams cramped together and each on top of the other, barely scraping by in Tondo, extravagantly content in Fort Bonifacio, cheerfully amoral in Malate, overworked and smiling stiffly in Ortigas. For every dream, there are at least two heartbreaks, but for that day, that one day, in the space it takes for a father to love his son, all is right with the world.)
PART 2, because I exceeded the character limit!
And God would retort: no. They are acting of their own volition, they hurt, they care, they fuck up, they hate, they love, they live and live. They are raging against the dying of the light, and thus are exactly as they should be, no matter what.
My Castiel is sad. Maybe he will be angry sometime after the fic is over, but for now he is just sad and bewildered and confused. This fic is EXACTLY like realizing your parents are regular people, that is EXACTLY it. Well, except maybe more theological, but HAHA, the show is totally making the theological about family anyway, so it can work. The family that prays together, yanno.
I think the first line of this fic is gonna be, "The amulet starts to burn somewhere over the Sulu Sea." I have this image of Cas just hovering in the air all caught up in the amulet that he doesn't notice the jet plane until it's a little too late. I mean, then Cas zooms off towards Manila of course, but the pilot is all, "...Did I just see what I thought saw?"
OH AND HERE IS ANOTHER SCENE. So, they're in God's rented room at the boarding house (He closed up shop early to talk with Cas, I guess), and now the visit is over and Cas is about to leave. But he hesitates, and he thinks maybe he shouldn't ask this question, but maybe now that he's here he can't help himself, and he is both fearful and hopeful when he asks, falters, asks, "Father... may I see You?"
And God knows that Castiel means see Him in His true form, and then there's a MOMENT, yanno. God's expression softens and Castiel can't tell if it's love or pity or something else, and God asks, "What about your vessel? For him to see me in my true form would damage--" but then Cas gets this panicked anguished expression on his face, and God takes pity on him and sighs, "I'll protect your vessel."
And so there, in this dingy room that smells of old food and anti-mosquito coils, God seeps out of the human form. Likewise, Castiel lets what is angelic of him expand beyond Jimmy Novak's body, expanding in ways and directions humans can't even conceive, but as boggling as the angelic may be to a human, the godly is infinitely moreso to an angel, to everyone, everything. In his true form, Castiel is dwarfed before God and feels the love ripped out of him and is relieved for it, is joyful, is reverent, is home. He loves his Father, has always loved Him, and here He is, here is the consummation of an eternity of the joyful longing we call faith, tucked away in the second-floor room of a modest boarding house with peeling paint and rusted gates.
My son, God says, and His voice is the light in which empires rise and fall.
Castiel falls into his Father's embrace and sobs adonai, adonai, sobs allah akbar. Castiel cries alleluia to the high heavens as his Father holds him close and calls him beloved in a thousand, thousand languages.
(In the room next door, Rdentor Sison feels the ache in his back subside and the methamphetamine sadness in his heart dissipate. Downstairs, Manuel Donato pauses in the middle of sweeping and remembers his wife, so young and beautiful and far away in the south of the country, and he thinks he should call her and remind her that he loves her, that he breathes her with every beat of his heart. Out in the garden, Elena Duterte raises her head and thinks today will be the day she finally stops drinking.
There is an invisible golden light that unfurls from this house, spreading through Manila, flowing through the streets like blood in arteries. It settles somewhere deep and soft inside the city's inhabitants, and chases the darkness away. Manila is a city of 20 million people, 20 million dreams cramped together and each on top of the other, barely scraping by in Tondo, extravagantly content in Fort Bonifacio, cheerfully amoral in Malate, overworked and smiling stiffly in Ortigas. For every dream, there are at least two heartbreaks, but for that day, that one day, in the space it takes for a father to love his son, all is right with the world.)