Модестова Т. : другие произведения.

Ex tenebis

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Школа кожевенного мастерства: сумки, ремни своими руками
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  • Аннотация:
    Coda to S15e19. Completion of an unclosed arc.
    Say again, if Jack didn't immediately rush to save Castiel, he's not the Jack that Sam, Dean, and Cas raised.

  It was the third one in the urgent and obligatory to-do list that the new Omnipotent and Omnipresent had to do. Immediately after the healing of the Winchesters and the renovation of the Universe. And, of course, he made it.
  
  Having dissolved in a white-gold glow, he took a step into the darkness.
  
  The darkness was formless and empty, as well as dry, hard and warm. "Pretty cozy," he thought, and sat down right where he stood, usually crossed his legs. He exhaled and gained patience.
  
  There was no time in the dark, either. He tried to count the time according to his inner feeling, then despaired and began to count his pulse rate, but even here he was constantly confused... He seems to have mixed up the numbers. It seems that his pulse was beating unevenly. He threw it and plunged into himself. It turned out to be so exciting to explore his new forces, feelings, boundaries and possibilities that he forgot about time... And he was even surprised when he finally heard the evil voice: "You are here again!"
  
  A circle of light flashed, outlining the space that had emerged. Jack was also on its border.
  
  The circle was empty, and there was nothing tangible or visible outside of it in semi-darkness. The sound came from emptiness.
  
  "I am not finished with you yet!"
  
  The voice was sound like a mechanical bot, without any special human intonation, but it clearly oozed outrage:
  
  "You made a huge noise in me! So looooud! And ran away! You're going to answer me for it, you understand?!"
  
   "I see". Jack nodded obediently. "With what?"
  
   "You-- you--" the Empty was falling in silent, 'cause it tooks thought, maybe.
  
  Jack continued to speak:
  
  "I will answer. But you'll being nice to me too. And you gеt me a good deal."
  
  "What? No way a deal! I decide: you will stay here with me! And you will never again waver back and forth, in and out. There is my price. There is your payback. And there"s no business with you!"
  
  Jack bowed his head, looked at his palms and repeated:
  
  "You make a good deal with me."
  
  Black and shiny one came out of the circle, lengthening like a tentacle, folding on the fly into the figure of the demoness Meg The Corn Muffin. She instantly found herself near Jack, leaned over, bent her fingers like claws to be absorbed, and captured, and dragged into the darkness ... and rip.
  
  Jack raised his head and fixed her with a icy stare.
  
  She was hovering above him and attacking, almost stabbing him with her sharp black nails, almost hitting him with her stiletto-sharp spike heels. Almost... but without touching him. As if Jack was surrounded by an invisible and impenetrable shield.
  
  At long last she realized this. She stepped back. Sizzling, snorting, and spitting, she squeezed out some words:
  
  "Why are you here? Why are you bothering me again? I want to sleep!" The last word stretched out, her mouth opened immensely, her voice went into bassy, unladylike notes, as if the demoness began to turn back into a black substance.
  
  "After Castiel, of course." Jack was even plainly surprised by the question.
  
  "Ahh, that one." The round-faced demoness wavered as a reflection in the water, then rippled and turn out to a weary figure in a shabby strange colour trench coat. Jack blinked. He was trying very hard not to show his feelings of pain and grief at the sight of his foster father, but he hadn't yet gained the experience of hobbleless lies and bravado that Dean had. Still, he only blinked, and the pseudo-Castiel didn't notice his reaction.
  
  "He's mine! We had a deal. Everything is fair: I get him, he get me. I give him you, he gives me himself. Would you try to undo it? Kiddo, who are you to destroy the cosmic balance of power?"
  
  "I'm Jack. Kline. A Nephilim. I was. I have a little more power now. Including space powers."
  
  "I know what you are. You've been inside me before. Just like the others. Well, you came, you'll stay. I am not a transcontinental highway. What place would you like to go to sleep, warmer or darker?" The mockery, unusual of Castiel, scratched Jack's ears and soul.
  
  Jack shifted his eyebrows.
  
  "You're not listening to me? I'm offering you one more deal--"
  
  False Castiel laughed shrilly, interrupting Jack. The boy stopped abruptly and scowled harder.
  
  "You have nothing for me. You're already here and you're not getting out, and you have nothing to offer but yourself. The rest of your kin is in it," his finger pointed somewhere behind Jack, but he didn't trust and turn around. "There they are, my lovely doves, the winged ones, the feathered ones, the webbed ones, all here. Forever. And you will be with them. To sle-е-е-е-еp with them."
  
  "Someday," Jack nodded calmly. The threat didn't frighten him. The experience of a bountiful harvest of death around, the personal familiarity with Death, and the impulses of self-sacrifice with which the Winchesters infect all those who carelessly approach them, taught him to treat the prospect of a finite human life without shock and awe. His, too. "Not this time. You can't do anything to me. You've tried and failed, haven't you? But I can get you into a lot of trouble. So for the last time, let's do this the easy way. I don't like to do it the rough way."
  
  Another burst of shrill laughter.
  
  Choking with laughter, the pseudo-angel shouted some a lot of jeers. Jack didn't listen: he got the answer.
  
  With a big frown, he stood up and held out his right hand invitingly, palm up. Holding on to it, a big-eyed, sickly-looking woman in a colourful dress emerged from beams of light and darkness. Jack caught her gaze and nodded quietly. She understood with a soft smile, took her thin fingers from his palm, glanced around the conversation spot, and turned to the fake Castiel:
  
  "I'm Amara."
  
  "I don't know you. I didn't call you." The false angel went mute and stared at the new face.
  
  "Indeed. I have never been and never will be in this place. I am the Darkness. I am the Gloom Mother. I am the Destroying, I am the Crushing, I am the End of Everything. I'll destroy you. And it's going to be a lot of fun! Because it is possible to destroy Empty by..." Amara looked around once more, as if taking aim, "by filling it. Creating by destroying, destroying by creating -- this is my first time. But it will work!"
  
  She turned sharply toward Jack, looked behind him where the false Castiel was pointing, where the angels and demons rested, and snapped her fingers.
  
  Rays cut through the darkness. The setting sun cast long shadows under Jack and Amara's feet, direct sunbeam hit the false angel in his forehead. The breeze blew in, the murk swirled into clots, the rustle of leaves could be heard, a little bird chirped uncertainty... A loud clap of wings: the flock took off and whirled around, the birds chirruped in disparate voices. Even with his back to its, Jack could feel the cooling heat of the summer evening and the smell of wildflowers.
  
  Pseudo-Castiel shrieked even more shrilly. He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his eyes with his hands to escape the light. Then he grabbed his ears, fleeing the sounds. The sun splashed into his eyes again, and he flinched. Human hands were missing.
  
  His figure shuddered, became translucent, and curls and clubs of gloom were outlined in it. They spilled out beyond the ghostly body, merged into smoky streamlets, and flowed into the depths where the rays could not yet reach. In a few seconds, Castiel lost volume and density and became like a dried-up chitinous insect shell or plastic wrap. He no longer shrieked, but howled softly.
  
  From behind Jack, a huge crow swooped out, flapping its wings, descending into the darkness, hitting the transparent figure in a swooping flight.
  
  "Stop it! Stop it! Get away!" It whined from the surrounding darkness. "Take her away! Take away the light and the noise. Get away! Let me sleep!"
  
  Amara, tilting her head to the side, looked at Jack with interest. He was composed and calm.
  
  "Give me Castiel and we'll all get out of here, and I promise that no one will ever bother you again. Forever and ever. That's my offer. That's our deal".
  
  There was silence.
  
  Jack waited.
  
  He knew what he wanted and how to get it. Jack tried his best to follow the negotiating rules he'd learned from the Winchesters: "Apply to circumstances", "Always have a plan B", "Always have an exit", "Keep your trump cards up your sleeve", and "Don't provoke for nothing. And then don't threaten, but hit him fast and hard, so that he goes belly-up."
  
   Jack even remembered how that phrase had sounded in Dean's instructions: they'd been fishing at dawn on a wild river somewhere, while Sam had slept in the Impala, and at the last words Dean had snatched a fish with catlike agility, chuckled, rejoicing in his good fortune, pulled it off the hook, showed it to Jack (a pale, bloated belly full of caviar glittered), and released it back--and it's all in a matter of seconds. He was especially proud of himself that morning, chatty, and cheerful, and carefree, 'cause they were coming home, no one had died, Castiel was waiting for them in the bunker. The piercing morning wind off the river seemed warm and welcoming to Jack.
  
  So he couldn't lose this negotiation--the most important negotiation in his new hypostasis. Not with this upbringing. Not for such a purpose. He couldn't, as an silly boy, let his fathers down and forget the lessons of the Winchesters. With divine powers on both sides, from Chuck and Amara, (not counting Jack's own skills) betray, bury Castiel? No, impossible! Jack was bending his line, and he thought he was doing well... almost good enough.
  
  Amara gazed with obvious pleasure at the space she'd created and filled with life, then distracted herself, lured a fat, red-cheeked goldfinch, and examined it with all her attention.The bird perched on her wrist and hooted, spreading its black-and-yellow fan of wings.
  
  Amara lifted her hand higher and whispered to it:
  
  "You must be Zachariah. Or maybe Balthazar. But I'll call you Zachariah. Fly away!" She tossed the goldfinch into the air. With an indignant chirp the bird flew back into the garden she had created.
  
  Finally, it came from the void: "You're all lying. All promises and all lies." It was no longer a blackmail, no longer a lunge, but a whining complaint. The Empty had actually surrendered. And Jack heard it.
  
  "I promise that no one will ever come in here. More than that, I promise I'll seal the portal and change the law that forced us into you. Yes, the cosmic law. I have the power and the strength to do it. And the balance will not be disturbed." Amara, listening intently to him, nodded in agreement. "And in return, you will give me Castiel. One angel in exchange for an eternity of peace. Our new deal. All right?"
  
  Something sobbed. Then it came out: "Deal."
  
  From far away, from beyond the limits of vision, a pale light approached the circle of light. It flew toward Jack and swirled around him.
  
  "Cass?" he exhaled in shock.
  
  The mighty warrior angel whose deeds Sam and Dean had evasively avoided telling him about, the rebel who had been the first to rebel against Heaven aeons after Lucifer, the free creature whom hated with equal passion by his original enemies demons and his siblings angels, the Winchesters' hunter and companion, ruthless and careful, reduced to a barely smoldering firefly!
  
  "He doesn't even recognize you," the transparent Cass commented venomously.
  
  "Yes, that's him. He's not in the garden," Amara confirmed, took hold of her grandnephew's shoulder and silently, traceless wasted away.
  
  "Cass!" Jack repeated.
  
  The flame slid closer... closely, touched his temple, traveled along his cheek as if stroked by a caressing hand. It hovered a few centimeters from his nose. Suddenly a faint, dry voice came from somewhere: "Jack. Jack, beloved. You're Jack." The young man carefully brought his palms together, caught the light, and turned his gaze to the empty shell that had stolen his father's form:
  
  "Give up his body." He corrected himself. "His form."
  
  "Oops," came the snide croak reply. "That was not our deal. The spark of his life is yours. Take it. The rest is gone. I took it all. And this... t hat's nothing. A false memory."
  
  The transparent outline of the figure blurred, human shape was dispersed. The breeze from behind Jack scattered its traces.
  
  Jack exhaled with obvious distress, brought the handful to his lips, and blew lightly, as if blowing out a coal. The rays came from under his fingers and tickled his face. He opened his hands, and a slender pigeon of pinkish-sand color with a sloppy mottled ring around its neck flew up from them. The bird flapped its wings loudly twice, failed to level its flight, and almost fell back into his arms. Jack gently cradled the pigeon in his arms and tucked it under his jacket, behind his sinus.
  
  "We're leaving. I'll honor the deal," he said sternly, raised his open palm in his instinctive farewell gesture, and clenched it sharply into a fist. The Garden of Eden behind him collapsed without a sound. A moment later, Jack disappeared as well, hiding the sand-color dove on his chest.
  
  The circle of light was gone. It was empty, dark, quiet, dry and warm again.
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  Somewhere in the lush scarlet, and rusty, and golden autumn hills of Tuscany, a young God sat on a hewn stone in a ruin and talked to a dove that walked around the dry oak leaves in front of him.
  
  "...I knew Amara would help and support me."
  
  "If I'd known, I wouldn't have advised you to take the risk. Even Chuck was wary of disturbing the Empty unnecessarily by the extra time."
  
  "I'm not Chuck. And one isn't the extra time. But I have to admit, I didn't risk anything. I have so strong powers now... that I'd be ashamed not to resurrect you with! Besides, after Billie sent me into the Empty and I exploded, part of the Empty
  
  came inside of me. It began to fill with ambient life energy and... all kinds of powers. The Empty is partly myself, and thus It couldn't hurt me, part of itself. I had nothing to fear."
  
  Jack fell silent, then added a few seconds later: "Even if the Empty hadn't been willing to bring you back, I would have taken you by force. I would have found you wherever she could hide you. It would take time, yes, but not infinite one. It is not unlimited anymore."
  
  "I see the underside of the universe has begun to change. And dramatically." Jack could hear the approval in Castiel's inaudible voice.
  
  "Yes. In their own reality, people can handle themselves, I said I wouldn't get involved. But the underside has to be changed so it doesn't meddle in the human world. Everything has to change. And you're gonna tell me how".
  
  "Don't forget to tell Sam and Dean about it, so they don't have to learn about change the hard way."
  
  "When you're strong enough and I don't have to support you, we'll go to them. And you can tell Dean yourself."
  
  "I won't be able to talk to him, I have nothing to speak with. And talking to him the way I talk to you is dangerous for him. I nearly cracked his head open once when I tried to reach Dean in my true form. Now," the dove spread his wings as he throw up his hands, "all the more reason I don't want to hurt or worry him. Too often I've relied on him instead of him relying on me, his guardian angel."
  
  "Do you think he's not worried right now?"
  
  "He's used to losing friends. And I've broken up with him a few times. He'll get over it. The important thing is that he still has Sammy with him. He's okay, isn"t he?"
  
  Jack paused, closing his eyes and absorbing the dissipated information. Then he relaxed and smiled dreamily:
  
  "Quite. He's with Eileen."
  
  "Keep an eye on them. I'm not be able to do that yet just now.
  
  Why do they need angel with no powers, no body, no voice, no connections in heaven?"
  
  "Someone said to me, "We don't care about you because you're useful." Do you remember who it was?" Jack was slowly learning to make jokes. "Do you think Sam and Dean care about your usefulness? They, uh... we care 'cause you are you. That you're back with us."
  
  The pigeon flapped its wings and kept silent.
  
  "We'll find you a right vessel. I promise, A. S. A. P. So Sam and Dean won't be without your help".
  
  "Try to make the vessel a woman. A young one. I--I have a reason to."
  
  If the mental voice had carried intonation, Jack would have heard embarrassment in that phrase. He was delicate and didn't inquire about Castiel's silence.
  
  "Okay, we'll do. In the meantime... let's live! I've locked away the Empty forever, and you are immortal."
  
  
  Т.Модестова, 11.18.2020.
  Translated by the author, 12.22.2023
  
  
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