Leviathans

A variable Castiel considered but didn’t quite grasp its consequences.

He consumed souls. Residual ones, of course. He needed them. His war with Raphael required some…assistance.

Within these souls were creatures as old as time, created by God pre-humanity, pre-monsters—before everything.

And now they had taken over. Castiel’s vessel was melting. Flesh of his visage was bubbled away like a simmering pot. His voice, once gruff with no intonation, now lilts at odd intervals and has an edge of derangement to it.

Sam, Dean, Bobby, and you, had just attempted an incantation to expel the leviathans from his body. Too little too late.

“Cas…?” You whisper, with only a shred of hope he’s still in there.

The vessel once belonging to the angel grinned mockingly. “Cas is…” The vessel shrugs looking up at the sky in feigned pondering and then smacks his lips, “Hm—He’s gone.” A dangerous rasp in the being’s voice emphasized the word already so heavy

Gone.

“He’s…” A twisted smile is on Castiel’s face. An expression you never thought you’d see. He finishes his sentence with a gleeful whisper.

“Dead.”

“We run the show now.”