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— text / @parker.

[webshoots]

Hey, this is Peter. We met at the beach.

That creature you saw when you came in on the ferry - did you get a good look at it?
I mentioned it to Robin, the lighthouse keeper. She's got a few questions.
You mind?

Might be helpful.

[freetobe]

Hello Peter.

I've contacted the keeper, though I doubt I can offer much in the way of answers.

What can you tell me about her?

Prayer 11/30ish

[knifecollecting]

[When Jo wakes up in the Invincible, there's a long moment of panic. This isn't where she was the last thing she remembers, both in whatever she just experienced, and in the darkness of Beacon.

Other people are starting to awake now, and though Jo isn't a stranger to waking up in the bar here considering she camped there for a bit at the beginning of her time in Beacon, waking up there unexpectedly has her unsettled.

She makes her way outside and rests against the side of the building, tired despite the amount of rest she might have just enjoyed. It takes her a moment to process who was in the bar with her, and-

Castiel. Shit.]

Castiel? Are you here? I hope you're okay. I'm by The Invincible. Can you get here? [When was the last time she prayed? She doesn't know. A long time. She's doing it now. She hopes he can find her.

This is ridiculous. Maybe she should call him instead.]

[freetobe]

[ He didn't expect it here. Despite Jo's presence, despite their previous discussions... it's been a while since someone has prayed to him directly other than Dean or Sam.

Something in him trembles. It's different than listening for unspecific prayers to answer. Different than people reach out. There's a level of faith there Castiel doesn't consider himself worthy of. And he feels the tug, knows the person praying and the location she's in.

His mind is still reeling, but he pushes that aside, compartmentalises hart.

He arrives behind Jo with the soft sound of rustling feathers, and the gentle whoosh of displaced air. ]

Jo.

05/12 quietly sobs i'm sorry

[webshoots]

[ prayer is one of those things that peter indulges in only occasionally: it's not a question of belief, or doubt, or confirmation, it's more about comfort. he doesn't expect an answer — that'd be way too self-indulgent, but that doesn't mean it's not a conversation of sorts. it's certainly more a conversation than all those times that he talks to himself.

he doesn't know if god's there, but then, isn't that the point? he doesn't know, even, if they're dead: their arrival in beacon had seemed to imply, definitively, that they were, but it wouldn't be the first time he's apparently died. (it's a thing that doesn't stick, apparently.)

the longer he's here though, the more he thinks that maybe they are. it's not a thought he vocalises because he has to believe that they're not and that there's a way back home if — well, if not for him, then for everyone else. a way to stop the world eaters. a way to sort all of this out.

he doesn't go in to the church — it's not that he feels unwelcome there, not at all, it's more that he prefers to be alone. prayer for him tends to be about—
he has a complicated relationship with god; he has questions about what and why, and he knows, always, what the answer would be: that the mystery's the point, he'd be bored and grumpy if he had all of the answers, blah blah blah. but in spite of that, it doesn't stop him from asking and from complaining.

after the event with the food and the dreams, it means peter's only got more of the above. he knows he's only got himself to blame for eating the food, he should have known better. not only is half the town destroyed (again), but robin's— what? they don't know. he's still not sure if he trusts her, but in spite of himself, he cares for her and even if he didn't, he's not sure that he could just sit idly by and watch whilst she was— tortured? attacked? who knows.

but going to the lighthouse is an issue all and of itself. the last time they'd gone, the town had been attacked (again: again), they'd had even more casualties than they had this time around. does he want to risk that? he'd been furious when aziraphale and crowley had tried to commandeer the ferry and leave, risked everyone for the sake of vanity. wouldn't that be the same? he feels guilty so he wants to do something to make it better.

(hypocrisy is thy name, peter parker. ugh.)

he wants an easy answer (he knows it's not going to come); he wants to feel better about himself (he knows that's not going to happen, either); he wants to know that may and mj and everyone back home is okay (probably not going to happen, but like, marginally more likely than any of the above, right?).

he's on top of the church, then, by the bell tower. since gaining a roommate, he's had to consider the logistics of the suit and civilian clothing, so he's had to consider leaving rucksacks of clothes in obscure locations that no-one else will think to look (reasonably speaking). webbing them is — not an ideal solution, given the limited supply and the limited resources to worry about the formula and making it so that it lasts longer (and god knows the issues he'd had with otto's new and improved formula), so in this instance, the rucksack is something he'd brought with him. he doesn't imagine, really, that he's about to be doing any spider-man related activities, it's just that ... the black blends in with the darkness better, alright? ]

Shamelessly taking this from another prayer-related tag I just wrote, ahem

[freetobe]

[ They don't understand what prayers feel like. Castiel has spent some time on earth listening to them, trying and struggling to answer as many as he could. Trying to work on atoning for his countless sins little by little, knowing it would never be enough.

Still... the sound...

A prayer is like a small sliver of melody that trickles through the fabric of the universe, like a shooting star in slow motion, like the poetry of an opening door. Always vibrant, always unique. Sometimes loud with desperation or brilliant with conviction or inviting with genuine, unrehearsed intent.

Prayers have not been unheard of in Beacon - they've just been rare.

This one is faint and subtle, barely a prayer and more a longing, a question marked in pencil, half-erased.

Castiel follows it.

If there is nothing else he can do in Beacon, perhaps he can answer prayers, whether they be directed at him or not. It's easier to pick them up on Thursdays anyway.

There's the sound of rustling feathers behind Peter, the soft rush of displaced air.

Castiel is momentarily confused by the figure he finds there, atop the church. Just looks at him for a good long moment, head tilting slightly sideways in contemplation. ]

Hello, Peter.

11.30 hours after waking up

[otrazhenie]

[ The hunger threatened to consume her the moment she woke, but Elena held it together as best she could. Clearly, something had happened while she'd been trapped in the sunlit Beacon that wasn't here. A dream, a prison, where only a few of them had been for... too long. Far too long by the smell of it.

Leaving the little house she shared with Jon, she'd been overwhelmed by the smell of blood on the air. Old blood and new, scents she knew and didn't, all of it sang to her hunger, pulling at her instinct to feed on the first person she saw. But she didn't. She held it together long enough to find Jon, to get him home, to make sure he was okay—

And then she'd disappeared. Running as fast as she could to the beach, knowing the forest was as safe as being around people right now, and she'd fallen to the sand, digging her hands in and wishing the rest of her could follow.

What am I going to do? It feels like hours pass as she sits there in the cold, a wind from off the water biting into her aching body. Her skin feels like paper, far too pale and beginning to show the veins beneath. Her bones scraped against each other, exhaustion warring with hunger, and with each second she can feel it creeping closer. Desiccation.

Help me. Please. Someone, please help... She needs to feed but she's so scared. She'll take too much, she'll kill someone, and even if they come back, how could anyone here trust her again? They'll be afraid of her, see her as a monster — and she won't blame them for it.

Please, help me. ]

(brief, fleeting mention of gore)

[freetobe]

[ Help me

They don't understand what prayers feel like. Castiel has spent some time on earth listening to them, trying and struggling to answer as many as he could. Trying to work on atoning for his countless sins little by little, knowing it would never be enough.

Still... the sound...

A prayer is like a small sliver of melody that trickles through the fabric of the universe, like a shooting star in slow motion, like the poetry of an opening door. Always vibrant, always unique. Sometimes loud with desperation or brilliant with conviction or inviting with genuine, unrehearsed intent.

Prayers have not been unheard of in Beacon - they've just been rare.

This one is loud and discordant, bright like a wound, like someone desperately struggling to hold a door open.

He knows the source, has met her. The vampire with the unexpectly good heart. So like and unlike Benny.

Maybe he can help this one person. Maybe doing so will push aside the ruin of Ignis' head and make Castiel stop thinking, for just a moment, that it should have been him.

He arrives with the sound of rustling feathers and displaced air, and feels her fear wash over him instantly. Castiel doesn't need to breathe, but drags air in over his tongue so he'll taste the night rather than her hunger. ]

Elena.

Prayer; thoughts i guess?

[maisel]

This is one lousy prayer, I don't even have a siddur with me. I asked for one, by the way. And a menorah. And a mezuzah. I'm gonna get it a month late, but hey, what can you do?

So here's the thing--my life fell apart, and then I put it back together, but now I'm dead and it's even more apart, and I'm trying as much as I can to throw myself back into things but it's hard. I died, for one. That sucks. I miss my kids and I miss my career and I miss my family--that's the big one. My family. I was ready to give it up and hit the road but wouldn't you know, now I just miss 'em. Even Zelda.

Zelda the most, honestly.

Is praying to you even gonna to work, Big Guy? Why is this the afterlife? It is not what you advertized, just for the record, but I guess I shouldn't try to pick a fight with God when I'm literally praying.

I just--I know I shouldn't ask for anything but if there's even a little, tiny sign that you're with me I need to hear it.

[freetobe]

[ He listens. After failing to be of aid to anyone for two weeks of involuntary sleep, it's the least he can do. Listen, and help where help is needed. Prayers are few and far between in Beacon, though in the wake of the past two weeks, Castiel can feel them more strongly.

It's not unusual, he supposes, that people will turn to faith after harrowing experiences. Many of them got hurt.

It should have been him. He should have been there.

He can feel the tug on his grace that comes with prayer, even the slightly off-beat feeling of this faith not being exactly the one he was created for - but then, what do divine beings care for the details of human worship. Faith... is faith, at the end of the day. Besides, Christianity gets most things wrong, so why would he limit what little purpose he can scrape from his continued existence so artibtrarily. So he feels it, the thread of prayer that would back home allow him to fling himself through space to reach anyone, anywhere. Here, the ability is much more limited. She's not far from familiar ground, but somewhere he hasn't personally been before.

Castiel starts walking before her prayer is done, moving with purpose. He could message her, speak to her on the device, but he never liked that.

She needs a sign.

He's only sorry that all she's gonna get is him. ]

Miriam.

[ It doesn't take him long to find her, once he reaches the Independance. He's flown what distances he could on the way to make the trip as short as possible.

Oh, she does not deserve to be here. ]

My apologies. It took a while to get here.

AT HIS HOUSE

[lunchbreaks]

[ Wrapped in a neat but plain paper delivered to Castiel's door is a package containing a book entitled "Christmas Traditions Throughout the Ages." There is a note attached stating "To Cassiel from Aziraphale." It's written in Enochian. ]

A SEALED NOTE. ( backdated: jan 21, tuesday. )

[sunborne]

A ridiculously sealed note is left at Castiel's place. When he finally is able to open it - why? so much tape?? - he'll see the following message written in a surprisingly neat cursive script:

Hi Mr. Castiel,

I wanted to let you and the others who fell asleep during the events and had dreamt of the past(?) of Beacon this info: You can write to Dr. Solis and share your experience with her. I don't like doing this but I really hope you do. Mr. Ignis was unable to experience the full thing himself and that means some details are still unknown.

You can leave your letter over at the Post Office whenever you want to get around to that. Postmaster General will send your letter to her.

Thanks,
Daylight.

@thursday | text

[freetobe]

[ It comes shortly after the message has been received, and carefully makes no mention of the contents. ]

Would you be available and/or willing to meet in person?

Castiel

@cuttingedge; text around the 6th or 7th

[knifecollecting]

[She has some questions, but praying doesn't seem like the best way to ask. She's just going to text him. It'll be up to him to come and visit or not.]

Hey, Castiel. Are you okay?

[freetobe]

Hello, Jo. I'm not unwell. What can I do for you?

ACTION.

[cained]

( it's late when dean rolls back into cabin 4 after pretty much a whole day of drinking and eating shitty food and getting harassed by lovey-dovey spirits with paint and glitter and cardboard cupcakes. he knows cas doesn't sleep, so he's not worried about disturbing him with the sluggish footfalls of someone who really should've stopped drinking two hours ago. at least he still manages to keep hold of his lantern, and didn't, you know, die on the way back from the invincible. he might be an alcoholic, but he's a high functioning alcoholic.

he sets his lantern down on the nearest flat surface as he walks into the living room, too tired to hold onto it anymore. )

Cas, hey. C'mere. Got somethin' for ya. ( his words aren't exactly slurred yet, but he's talking slower than usual, his midwestern twang coming out thicker than when he's sober. he keeps walking toward his bedroom, assuming cas will follow, and starts rooting around in one of his drawers until he finds what he's looking for under a pile of denim and plaid.

the first thing happens to be a tie, nearly the same blue as the tie cas normally wears, only it's flannel and plaid, which is probably why he had such a problem finding it again. the second is something much less practical, and kind of a joke between the winchesters: it's one of those singing fish you mount on the wall. they are yet unaware that it's broken and doesn't exactly play properly.

he holds both items out to cas, a strangely soft half smile pulling at his mouth. )

Happy Valentine's. Sammy thought we should get you somethin'. I guess for puttin' up with us for so long. ( he can't not bring sam into this, because he would never, ever admit that one of these things was not sam's idea. (the fish they both agreed on. the tie — well, let's just say sam doesn't know about the tie.) ) But let's skip the Hallmark crap, huh? Just — here. Take 'em.

( please. because if dean has to hold onto this tie any longer, it might actually sober him up enough that he has to think about what it means (which he is definitely not prepared to confront on this particular holiday). )

[freetobe]

[ Castiel follows silently, as he is wont to do. It allows him to keep a careful eye on Dean, ultimately determining that Dean doesn't appear drunk enough to be forcefully sobered through Castiel's healing. Unless he makes himself a nuisance that is.

So the angel follows, not questioning Dean's intent in the slightest until he is presented with... gifts.

Castiel blinks owlishly, just the once. Looks from the fish to Dean to the tie to Dean and then the fish again.

He's missing something here. The tie, he thinks he grasps, and... it settles somewhere between his ribs, a sort of warmth that opens just a little, like a flower unsure whether it's spring or not. Dean's always fussed with Castiel's tie. And the pattern... His eyes flick to Dean's own flannel shirt. Back to the tie.

Oh.

Castiel nods slowly, then reaches up and pulls on the knot of his tie, loosening it until he can pull it off easily, letting the cloth slip into his coat pocket after removing the tie clip that is, as is clearly its purpose, clipped to the the.

Just to the tie. What else would one clip it to?

Castiel nods to the fish. ]

Your brother and you... have a strange taste in gifts.

[ And then he reaches out, cups Dean's hand with one of his and curling the fingers of his other hand around the soft fabric Dean is holding out to him. ]

Thank you, Dean.

[ Dean's fooling no one here. Castiel knows what Sam's been involved in here... and who's giving him something that looks like he's cut from the same cloth as the Winchesters.

It's... touching, Castiel things. Unnecessary, but... he doesn't know why he can't just dismiss the gesture, why it sits in his ribcage like I'd rather have you, cursed or not.

He fastens the new tie. Crooked, hopelessly so, despite the sheer look of concentration. The tie clip is added to it. And Castiel looks at Dean, lips slightly quirked, but most of that smile and softness sits in his eyes.

Just this once, Dean... he gets what you're not saying. ]

I have something for you as well. It won't arrive until the next ferry.

CASTIEL ENCOUNTERS A KING

[inthenightmods]

In his travels, Castiel comes across what appears to be the beginnings of...a castle? Well, rocks and sticks have been set up between a couple of trees as if they're the basis for some kind of stronghold. If he comes closer, he'll discover what inhabits it: the Rat King! The creature squirms about, its many tangled bodies building up the abode as best as they can, though this is clearly a difficult task alone, without its former rat subjects.

If Castiel gets too close, the Rat King hisses and leaps out of the awkward structure, fleeing into the underbrush.

Feb 24 | text | @m.hughes

[dadandgone]

I received a package and letter from our doctor friend. I won't transcribe it word for word, but I wanted to make you all aware of some information that I think needs to be known NOW.

1. Confirmation of the amusement park. The coaster we saw a flier for does exist and does do what we hypothesized it would...it's a "humane method of suicide." If any of you go exploring and happen across the amusement park DO NOT LET ANYONE ON THE COASTER.

2. She thinks it will soon be time to connect to the network. She didn't give a day, but it sounded like it would be soon. I don't know if we're to wait to reveal her presence then or if you all think we should finally call another town hall to inform everyone else about this.

If you're curious about reading the letter for yourself, let me know.

PRAYER — 2/21

[cained]

( dean's getting real tired of these damn memory rocks when he happens to find one that contains something that finally feels like breakthrough, like a real lead. it's one thing stumbling on some poor schmuck's memories and then feeling awkward about it because it's not like you asked to go memory diving — but it's an entirely different matter when the memory in question is from melon of the big kahuna herself. this he has no problem watching, or ... experiencing, really and he's sure this is something cas needs to see now. (he'll show sam and jo later, once he understands better what the memory means.)

the only problem is he doesn't exactly know where cas is at the moment and this is the kind of thing dean doesn't want to waste time on, not when he's confined to the use of his own two legs to get anywhere.

so there's a sense of urgency to his prayer, with a slight undertone of excitement. this is it, right? this is how they get out of here. )

Cas, wherever you are, I need you to flap those pretty wings of yours and get here. Now. It's important. I found something — something big, I think, and it's got your name written all over it. ( not. literally, but hopefully that goes without saying. ) Just — get here, okay?

( here being inside the invincible, tucked inconspicuously into a corner table instead of at his usual place at the bar. )

late but finally here we go

[freetobe]

[ Castiel cannot claim to enjoy those times when Dean, through the years of their friendships, has prayed to him and demanded his attention and presence right now for things that on the cosmic scale of things were of very little importance. His first instinct, therefore, is to roll his eyes, even as he already beats his wings.

Just because Dean's prayers can be juvenile doesn't mean Castiel won't always come when called, after all.

He deposits himself in a free seat, eyes narrowed. ]

You've never seen my wings. The compliment, while appreciated, rings hollow as a result. You found something that my name was inscribed upon?

[ It did not go without saying. ]

@darkess

[evulsed]

[ Vanitas remembers it in pieces. Not exactly what happened— not that he'd been found, that he owes his not-death to Castiel because he'd carried him on a literal wing and a prayer to Bruce. That knowledge only came after the other boys told him the sequence of events. But even before that, he remembers it. The searing burn of Castiel's grace, the inhuman shine of his eyes when Vanitas woke just enough to look at him before the strain and the agony knocked him out again.

He's probably supposed to say thank you.

Instead: ]

You could have just let me die.

[freetobe]

[ There are many things Castiel could respond to this.

Things like 'You're welcome' or 'But I didn't' or 'I'm feeling judgmental about your user name'.

He thinks back the wounds on Vanitas' body. Thinks back to 'I will hurt you' and to hands sinking into his chest, reaching for things that lie far beyond the cathedral of a human rib cage.

Instead... ]

I know.

@darkness | before the network post

[evulsed]

What did you do, you idiot?

Response on the 15th

[freetobe]

I died.

@wayne | private

[pearlstrings]

Hello Castiel.

When you get this message, would you please meet me at the museum?

Response on the 15th

[freetobe]

[ The answer comes uncharacteristically late for Castiel, who never sleeps. He's been notably absent from Beacon for a solid week. But then, Jo did announce his and Dean's death on the network. If Bruce has been paying attention, he'll be aware of the reason for the delay. ]

Is someone hurt?