Understanding Pain, part 3

If there was an actual, physical door that lead to the topmost chamber, Raphael would have brutally kicked it open and pay no attention to the loud bang that almost ripped it off its hinges. As he crossed the threshold, he noticed that a few of the sigils bordering the room were smudged and rendered useless. Upon closer inspection, he learned that the cause was droplets of basilisk poison, which seems to be highly effective in cancelling out wards. That would explain how Castiel was able to escape.

Raphael looked down at his brother whom he held; his eyes were still purple, keeping him in a dazed state.

"Castiel," said Raphael sternly as he put him down onto the bed. When his brother did not acknowledge him, he reached out and brashly shook him, and he was not at all ashamed to have unintentionally released a spurt of lightning. "Castiel!"

That got a reaction as Castiel jolted and blue washed over his eyes. "What's going on?" he asked, hoarse and utterly confused, after a long moment.

Even as a huge wave of agony crashed into his brother's Grace, the smallest amount of sympathy never registered in Raphael. "Why did you leave this chamber?" he thundered.

Amidst the torment and the fatigue, Castiel managed to lift his head and meet his gaze. "I... left…?" he began.

"I told you to stay here. The whole Infirmary's in chaos because of you." snapped Raphael.

Castiel's expression became distant, as if he was trying to recall something. In the process, traces of purple entered his eyes. "Getting scary… had to… escape…" he muttered.

"Haven't you realized by now that the implausible things you're seeing are mere illusions spawned by the poison?" bellowed Raphael, bolts of lightning crackling off his wings.

However, by now, the bits of purple in his brother's eyes were starting to push away the blueness again. "They're coming for me…" Castiel murmured, whimpering a little. "So many of them…"

Maybe it was frustration, maybe it was concern, but Raphael sat down on the bed and forced the lightning to stop bursting out of his form. "Brother, listen to me: you're being a fool and a coward for allowing the poison consume you. What you're doing is taking the easy way out, and we all know that path is not a true exit and solution."

It did not matter what Castiel was 'seeing'. He was saying this because he could see that Castiel was beginning to give up, that he was considering of letting the poison swallow his Grace if that meant he could be in his hallucination-induced world where the pain did not affect him. Raphael's own Grace pulsed slightly in an act of pity. From what he had gathered, the hallucinations were horrifying for his brother, and yet he still chose them over the real torture the poison was inflicting on him.

"The pain may vanish, but at what cost? You lose your sanity to these hallucinations; you drift apart from your own family." Raphael went on, stating the last words as a fact rather than having a sentimental meaning.

Regardless, the purple light flickered out and left a dull, washed-up blue in its wake. "I-I'm trying… to overcome it." said Castiel weakly.

"Not hard enough." replied Raphael. He studied his brother's tiny, miserable form. "Do you want it to stop hurting?" he asked.

With what strength he had, Castiel nodded.

"Then make it stop. It won't go away by itself." said Raphael coldly.

Castiel trembled as a particularly alarming flare of pain rippled through him. "I don't think I can do it." he sniveled.

Raphael rose to his full height. "The decision rests with you. Either succumb to the effects and live out the rest of eternity in a twisted fantasy, free of agony but full of horrors, or deal with the suffering and stay connected to everything you hold dear." he said. He made sure Castiel was listening to him before he added, in a quieter tone, "Pain is trying to anchor you to what is real. Remember that."

He turned and approached the spot where the line of sigils had been broken and redrew the ruined symbols. Raphael was supposed to leave the chamber and his brother without another word, but he sensed the feeble pulses of Castiel's Grace calling out to him, almost begging to him like a human child who was scared to be alone.

When Raphael, reluctantly, faced his brother, he was met with the saddest, most pitifully frightened expression he had ever encountered in his life. Gabriel had once or twice coined this as the 'kicked puppy look,' and while Raphael understood the phrase enough, it was only at this moment did a sliver of compassion made its way into his Grace. He would never admit it though, especially to him.

As the cold, hissing light of his Grace fairly softened, he went over to Castiel's bed once more. "Would you like it if I invited some of the members of your garrison here some time?" Raphael asked with uncharacteristic (partial) tenderness.

Castiel, on the verge of crying, wiped his eyes and gave a timid nod.

"Alright. If your condition improves, I'll send them a message." said Raphael resignedly. He made his way toward the exit again, this time taking great care ignore the intense fear and desperation riddling his brother's Grace.

"Rest. And remain inside this chamber." he added pointedly.

O_x

Raphael was organizing his records in his study, and every so often he would turn his attention to the activities of Earth to monitor the tiniest supernatural fluctuation. While he was reviewing the documents of an odd case of an angel's Grace rapidly changing color and shape, a presence outside his study made itself known to him. Frustrated by the intrusion, Raphael nevertheless got up and went to see the visitor.

"Sir, may I have a moment?" the angel asked once they were face to face. Shimmering yellow light was emanating from him, a signature that was so unmistakable that Raphael already knew who he was before they could even directly see each other.

"What do you want, Azazel?" he barked.

Most angels would have flinched from his menacing tone; Azazel pretended to be scared simply as an attempt to humor him. "I… simply wish to inform you that one of my blades have been stolen." he stated.

"You came up to me to report about a petty thievery?" growled Raphael.

"Let me explain," Azazel began smoothly. "This blade – I made it myself, you see, so it's not a typical weapon. I even brought it here with me to safeguard it, despite my injuries." he explained, gesturing at the tattered wings he had suffered after his previous mission.

"This is of no concern to me." said Raphael warningly.

He made a move to return to his study, when suddenly he felt Azazel grab hold of him. At once, rage welled up inside Raphael, not only because he was being stopped by an angel of lower rank, but also the fact that he had received contact without his consent. Archangels were highly revered; the air surrounding them should even be treated with veneration. He would have struck Azazel with a thousand lightning bolts on the spot just to remind him of his place but the same angel interrupted him from doing so.

"Listen. This blade is extremely dangerous in inexperienced hands, which is basically everyone other than me. It's a prototype, the first of its kind, and it was lost from me when the Infirmary went crazy and locked down." Azazel declared, abandoning all forms of pleasantries. "The blade responds to the thoughts and emotions of any angel wielding it. It can bend reality to a degree. The slightest notion can have a phenomenal effect." he continued stressfully.

That was indeed somewhat pressing. "I assume you've at least tried to search for it." said Raphael lowly.

"I've been doing that since things went back to normal around here." retorted Azazel. "The only place left is the top, that's why I came to you." he said in a hushed tone, like this was a grave secret meant solely for them.

The Infirmary was still under lockdown, so there was no way the blade could have been taken outside. Someone must have it, and if Azazel did not find the culprit in the lower levels, that could mean that the blade had been taken to the place where only Raphael had unhindered access to. And other than him, there was merely one other angel who had gone there.

All of a sudden, the whole Infirmary shook as if in the middle of a powerful quake. Then the tremors became a succession of shockwaves, almost as if an attack was taking place, and blast after blast was hitting the walls. Raphael traced the source and found that it was inside the Infirmary.

"And I think someone's already using my blade." stated Azazel exasperatedly.

Another shockwave was all it took to get them both racing to the highest level of the Infirmary. When they reached the level just before the peak, they were stunned to see fire blazing in the halls and a wide array of chains and hooks strung up on the ceiling. The Healers in the area were either trying to extinguish the flames or getting their patients to safety, although the former did not seem to have that much of an effect.

At the topmost chamber, unlike what was happening below, every inch was as dark as the most remote folds of the universe, although something would occasionally creep out of the shadows or fleetingly burst through the hauntingly empty veils: apparitions of demons going back and forth and raking the floor with their claws in the process, harsh flashes of light that cut through the fringes of Raphael and Azazel's wings like heavenly knives, and anguished screams from nonexistent humans echoing throughout the place.

"How can a fledgling fabricate this monstrosity?" asked Azazel, tense and quiet.

Raphael would have questioned him how he knew it was a fledgling that was being housed here, but then he recalled announcing to the entire Infirmary of his patient, as well as not to send any more to him. Nonetheless, there was a part of him that wished another angel had gotten hold of Azazel's blade and had simply scurried off to the farthest point in the Infirmary.

But then he recalled the fearful reactions Castiel had made whenever he was deeply hallucinating, and after taking in the sights around them, he found it harder to believe this could be conceived by anyone else. Basically, he found it harder to believe Castiel had not gone completely mad by now if this was what he had to endure.

The darkness, particularly the things coming out of it, was making it difficult for them to locate Castiel; even Raphael's Grace was uncertain which direction to take next since Castiel's essence was somehow totally blocked from him.

Unexpectedly, a frail whimper pierced its way out of the gloom, and for Raphael, that was the equivalent of seeing a glimmer of sunlight. He traced it, dragging Azazel along, and soon enough there was Castiel, curled up into a ball of flickering blue light in a small corner and eyes glowing an appalling shade of red. The blade was held firmly in his grip, poised in a way that was ready to strike anything that came too close to him.

Raphael stepped forward into his brother's line of sight. "Castiel, drop the weapon." he commanded.

His presence must have scared Castiel even more than he currently was, because the red in his eyes actually got brighter and his grasp on the blade more desperate. "You're going to kill me." he sobbed.

"I'm not going to kill you." insisted Raphael, using a calmer voice.

"I disobeyed. You kill those who disobey." Castiel prattled on. Tears in the form of light were streaming down his face; meanwhile, the poison within him appeared to have hardened.

"Put down the blade." said Raphael as he advanced on him.

He had to stop when faded images of bloody humans, hundreds of them, materialized and the scene reminded Raphael of the massacres the people of Earth had done to their own people. What was horrifying was that the humans were all staring at Castiel, as if accusing him that it was his fault they were like this. Then, spiteful cackling filled the air, albeit that sound of twisted laughter was not ordinary, because Raphael only ever heard that once and that had been when he visited Hell.

"Leave me alone… please." sniveled Castiel, doing everything he can to shrink into himself even more. It dawned on Raphael that the reason Castiel had taken the blade in the first place was so that he could have something to protect himself with against these ghastly visions.

Raphael sensed a few of the Healers land behind him, clearly wanting to assist in subjugating Castiel. "Do not take him on." he advised them. He turned to Azazel. "Azazel, this is your device. Come with me." he instructed.

The two of them quickly formulated a plan: the gist was Raphael holding Castiel's attention while Azazel snuck up on him from the side to have a chance at nabbing the blade.

"Castiel, do you know where you are?" inquired Raphael in the most soothing voice he could muster.

For a minute, Castiel stared at him with mistrust and trepidation as he shakily pointed the blade at him. Then, ever so slowly, he shook his head.

At that, Raphael inched nearer. "Set the blade aside and you can return to Heaven." he said.

Castiel did not put the blade down, but the red glow in his eyes weakened a little and swirls of purple were starting to appear. Suddenly, images of vicious hellhounds ran in between them, and the redness of Castiel's eyes returned with full force. He scrambled to the left, and it was there where he discovered Azazel sneaking up on him.

"Demon!" shrieked Castiel, stumbling to the opposite way. "Don't touch me! Don't take me to Hell!" he cried out.

Even though Azazel's cover was blown, he still made an attempt to snatch his blade; however, Castiel was too fast for him and staggered deeper into the darkness to hide. The Healers present began to pursue him just as the chamber filled up with more gruesome apparitions.

Raphael absorbed the chaos happening everywhere, and he came to the conclusion that the extent of Castiel's hallucinations were connected to whatever was going on in reality. In a nutshell, the more Castiel got terrified in the real world, the more extreme the hallucinations were, and the blade was manifesting pretty much everything.

"Everyone, leave!" yelled Raphael.

"But – " Azazel protested.

"Do as I say!" he hollered.

Immediately, the Healers flew out of the chamber. Raphael glared at Azazel for a moment before he also took flight. He might as well try to reduce the bedlam here; the last thing he needed was petrifying Castiel out of his senses. Force, for the moment, was not needed in the situation; rather, what Raphael had to do was be as harmless as possible so he could coax his brother out of the hole he had dug himself into.

Frankly, using force would have been much easier for him.

The chamber, despite its severe tarnishes, was nevertheless very familiar to Raphael, so at least he would not have to worry about getting lost. The blade may have added a nightmarish touch to the room, but it did by no means expand its space. He navigated through the chamber with ease, searching for Castiel the old fashioned way.

The sole interruptions he had were the manifested figments of his brother's hallucinations passing him by or filling up the edges of his vision. They were merely pictures though, convincing as they were, with no solid form of their own. They could not really hurt him or anyone else, which was a blessing since it was an absolute war-zone here. Figures of angels were either lying dead or dying, and the room was caught in some erratic storm of Heavenly light and demonic shadows.

Raphael ignored the mocking whispers, the sight of angel blades falling from above like a downpour, the spills of blood and traces of ash on the floor, and he essentially ignored the sheer apocalyptic signs that seemed to be shown on every apparition. How, in the name of the Father, was Castiel able to have such detail on this matter?

After what felt like an eon, he located Castiel attempting to fight off a horde of imaginary attackers. Raphael was uncertain if his pathetic fighting skills were because the poison was draining his prowess, or if his brother was truly poor at combat. Whatever the reason, Castiel looked as if he would fall over at the slightest, clumsiest jab of Azazel's blade.

His brother appeared weaker and more afraid, and his light was at its dullest. In fact, if he was not striving to fend off his hallucinations, he would be collapsing in extreme exhaustion now. Castiel was at his limit, and if the poison will not finish him, his burnt out Grace surely will.

For what was like the fiftieth time since he went up to the chamber, Raphael repressed the instinct to unleash a barrage of lightning bolts. He gradually approached Castiel the second the dreadful images in front of him evaporated with a sinister guffaw.

"What makes you sure that what you're seeing is real?" Raphael started gently.

Castiel fell backward, whimpering. He had the blade up and pointed it at him but his grip was lopsided and not as tight as before.

"Do you remember the basilisk sinking its teeth into you?" continued Raphael.

Castiel scurried over to a darker corner and proceeded to hide under his deformed wings. Albeit, Raphael caught a glance of his brother's eyes taking on a suggestion of purple. The blade slipped a bit in his hold, and absentmindedly, Castiel reached over to his right wingtip to caress the rumpled feathers.

"Do you like what is happening?" Raphael stated, getting closer.

There was a sniffle underneath the flimsy shield of down-feathers. Eventually, Castiel's tiny head peaked out of his wings and gave a barely noticeable shake.

Raphael crouched down until they were separated by a breath's length. "Do you want to spend the rest of your existence like this? None of this is real, you know that." he told him steadfastly.

A considerable flash of purple streaked across his red eyes briefly. "I'm… n-not sure – " stammered Castiel.

He was reaching him, Raphael was positive of it. Regardless, he could not help but ponder over how far Castiel had sunk with the poison. No matter how bad the hallucinations were, it was guaranteed that the excruciating backlash once he snapped out of it was always much, much worse in comparison. Before he succumbed to the visions, Castiel must have experienced a degree of agony so unbearable that he slipped under the numb safety of the poison, in spite of the consequences.

"Do you want your garrison to see you in such a state?" asked Raphael in a more hushed voice.

At that, Castiel sat up a little straighter and wiped the tears from his eyes. For a moment, he seemed to be 'waking up' in the same way humans do when they wrench their minds out of their own nightmares, groggy and uncertain of what was going on. His eyes were presently a mixture of red and purple and his familiar expression of wide-eyed curiosity was slowly beginning to seep into his features again.

Raphael could practically hear the words he had told him when they returned to the chamber echo in Castiel's head: 'The pain may vanish, but at what cost? You lose your sanity to these hallucinations; you drift apart from your own family'. The fledgling may be stupid, naïve and timid but he loved his family more than anything.

Gradually, Castiel's tense posture slackened and his panic gave way to something akin to comprehension. However, just as he was on the verge of breaking free of the poison's influence, an image of an aggressive holy fire appeared and encircled Castiel. His brother screamed when he believed he was trapped and the red glow was vibrant in his eyes once more.

And there, Raphael saw it: the poison deep inside Castiel was reacting, defending itself and manipulating the thoughts of its host. Despite its power, it was four times smaller than its original size, and if Castiel simply had enough strength, he could remove it within a short amount time and permanently end this. The poison, figuratively, was on its last legs and it was doing everything it can to remain latched onto Castiel's form.

As the imaginary ring of holy fire got taller and hotter, Raphael reached for his brother, although Castiel doubted the trustworthiness of his nature again and sidled to the very end of the circle. He covered his face and started whimpering bits of various prayers.

"Brother, give me the blade. I will help you." said Raphael, still reaching to him.

Castiel shivered at the word 'brother'. He glanced up and tentatively held out Azazel's blade in a defensive stance. Purple flitted across his eyes.

"Come home." whispered Raphael.

He did not notice it at first, but over time, Raphael became aware of a shift in the air. He surveyed the chamber and discovered that the heavy darkness was actually receding. The demons, the shadows, the dying humans and angels were all disappearing; the stink of sulfur, blood and decay gave way to Heaven's fragrance. The crying and screaming from a multitude of fake voices were swallowed up by the eternal peace of the realm.

Then, Raphael heard something clatter to the floor, followed by a soft thud. He looked back at Castiel and saw that his brother was lying on his side and Azazel's smoking blade was adjacent to him. Quickly, Raphael shoved the blade to the far end of the chamber and gingerly cradled Castiel.

His brother was barely conscious, utterly exhausted from overpowering the massive visions. Nonetheless, Raphael was relieved to see the last of the basilisk poison exiting Castiel's wound.

"You have at last accepted it," murmured Raphael.

O_x

"Sir, we have finished analyzing the basilisk that attacked Castiel." spoke one of the Healers Raphael had assigned to go to Earth.

"And?" pressed Raphael.

"You were right, sir; it's not an ordinary one." he responded. "A handful of the Greek deities thought it would be amusing to bestow upon the creature the gift of divination." he scoffed.

"How credible is its ability?" asked Raphael somberly.

"It was constructed by Greek deities, sir." he chuckled. They always considered the other deities to be foolish enough to think they could rival Heaven's power, much like a chicken believing itself to be able to out-fly an eagle. Therefore, it was likely that the creature's 'gift' was incredibly faulty.

"What of the basilisk itself?" Raphael went on.

"Contained." the Healer replied confidently.

"And Zachariah?"

"Shrunk down to the size of a pea, serving his time in dung beetle territory, just as you have instructed."

For some, that would have been cruel and unusual punishment; but for Raphael, he blamed Zachariah for everything that had recently transpired. The Infirmary was yet to be fully reconstructed and a number of the patients had had their conditions worsened.

"Good. That will be all." said Raphael. He did not stay long enough to see the Healer bow all the way since he swiftly flew up to the topmost chamber.

Upon entering, the first thing he registered was the sight of a wide array of objects beside the threshold. They were all from Castiel's garrison; Raphael recalled one of the fledglings mention the words 'Get well soon presents' when they paid their injured comrade a short visit. The pile was composed of a random assortment of items: flowers from the Garden, vials of starlight, a necklace fashioned out of dewdrops from Earth, a feather from each member of the garrison and boxes containing the new songs they had learned while Castiel was confined to the Infirmary.

"He is much loved." Raphael mentally observed.

Straight ahead, Castiel was sitting up on his bed and had his back to him. He had an iridescent balm applied to his wound to help his form heal faster and his Grace replenish. His wings were still shabby and ragged at the edges but it was on the path to regaining its fluffiness. Even without using his medical knowledge, Raphael noted that his brother was, up until now, very, very, very weary.

"Thank the Father this is your last day in this place." commented Raphael, simply to break the uncustomary silence in the chamber.

Castiel sluggishly turned to meet his gaze, and despite the fact that his brother's eyes were still dull, Raphael was just relieved to see that the blue within them was steady. "I still can't remember what I saw." mumbled Castiel.

That must have been why he was so quiet, because he was deep in thought. "For all our sakes, it's for the best." remarked Raphael.

He was met with a slight head-tilt.

"You're healing, that's all that matters." Raphael said, instead of explaining further. He studied his brother for a long moment. "As a soldier, things will only get harder from this point. You should be ready that there are worse circumstances to come." he stated impassively.

"I accept that." said Castiel. His tone of voice had changed from the sniveling, pathetic whines of before into one that knew how to carry a burden in a complicated reality.

"I believe you have finally learned the first philosophy of pain," said Raphael, almost in a whisper.

"There's more?" Castiel inquired.

"Pain isn't just about highlighting the negative aspects. Father created everything with detriments and benefits, which keeps reality in balance." elucidated Raphael. "Pain is a sign that we are alive, and in most cases it shows that we are actually doing something with our lives. Not only that, it helps us see what's really important, and we learn to value what we have." He paused, then added, "It brings out character, as well as develops it."

Castiel's expression was both understanding and inquisitive. He appeared to want to say something, though Raphael cut him off.

"You still have a long road ahead of you, but from what I have seen, there's a possibility that you can make a decent soldier." he said. Castiel did not exactly have the best fighting skills or the most power an angel of his rank could wield; however, he had the kind of determination that would put half the angels to shame.

Before leaving, Raphael gave Castiel one last pulse of healing from his Grace, enough to assist him through his remaining time in the Infirmary. Then, as he got up, his brother gently brushed his wingtip to grab his attention.

"Thank you." said Castiel.

And somehow, Raphael knew it was more than the healing.

Fin (for this mini-story).