Aaah, Dean Winchester. The weeping Shahrukh Khan of the apocalypse. Everyone turns to God in the end. When you realize there is no one else who will listen except the one who has been there the whole time. When despite how dirty and despicable you feel, you turn back, offering up your rank and sullied soul and praying that He listens. And forgives.
I can’t believe it, I actually wrote a smidgen of Supernatural fanfiction.
Rated PB for potential blasphemous material. *cowers*
“I must join the ranks of the sayyahun,” says Castiel.
Dean glances at him sharply. “The say-what? That some kinda angel glee club?”
Castiel simply rests his gaze on Dean, although the twitching corner of his lips betray his amusement. “The Journeyers.”
Before Dean can say anything else, Castiel closes his eyes, and begins to recite something. It’s not the harsh, halting syllables of Enochian that Dean has grown accustomed to hearing. Instead, the words flow, lilting, melodious. It takes Dean a moment to recognize it: Arabic.
The words cease. Castiel opens his eyes, but does not look at Dean.
“There are angels, Dean, who travel the highways of this world, seeking out the people of Remembrance,” he begins. “When they find people remembering God, they call out to one another, ‘Here is what you hunger for,’ and they enfold them with their wings, stretching up to the lowest heaven. God will forgive them all, even the one who entered with some other purpose in mind.” Castiel recites the words slowly, stiffly. Like he’s reciting from a book. Dean would go so far as to say…uncertainly.
So it is an angel glee club, thinks Dean.
“Cas,” Dean begins. It’s enough to make him look up. “When you say, ‘Join the ranks’…are you telling me you’ve never actually been a part of this angelic wing-fest?”
Castiel shifts uncomfortably. Dean can almost imagine him arranging and rearranging his own wings against his back.
“I never had cause to be invited,” replies Castiel, sounding chagrined. The words, I’m just a lowly foot-soldier hang heavy in the air. “And even less, now.”
At Dean’s look of askance, Castiel continues.
“In the Beginning,” says Castiel, and Dean can tell from the intonation that it’s Beginning with a capital B, “the gatherings of God’s remembrance were many. The sayyahun were many. There were no shortages of suppliants. The sayyahun remained…sated.
“As Time went on, the gatherings of remembrance began to dissipate. The play and amusement of this world distracts mankind. The signs of the Hour foretold this. The sayyahun, once many, began to starve.”
“Wait, Cas,” Dean interjects. “Starve? Because there aren’t enough people saying, ‘Hallelujeah?'”
“Yes. There are many kinds of hunger, Dean,” says Castiel knowingly.
Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no kidding?”
“No kidding,” Castiel says with complete seriousness.
Dean stifles a groan. He wants to hear the rest of what Castiel has to say, though, although he will deny that to his grave. So he just leans his head back, sighs, and says “Please, continue,” with all the gravity he can muster.
Castiel nods. “The sayyahun, many had to be…reassigned. The ranks of the sayyahun are honored, coveted. You can imagine the tension this spread among the ranks. Many who were reassigned felt it was…below their pay grade.”
“So what are they now? Heavenly garbage pick-up? Angel-mart door greeters?”
“Some were assigned as watchers over the mountains. Others, over the air, rain, or thunder. Still others were assigned to spend their entire existence in remembrance, either standing or prostrating.”
Aaaaand basically in a nutshell Castiel wants to join the sayyahun to help him find God, because apparently they report these gatherings to God, although Castiel himself has never been witness to this, because the sayyahun are so few in number, they’re like an endangered species. They are also extremely secretive. Of course, Castiel needs Dean’s help. He needs Dean to attend a prayer gathering. Several prayer gatherings, including a visit to a church, a synagogue, and a masjid. Dean’s totally haram taveez (aka amulet) which Castiel appropriated (because it glows hot in God’s presence) begins to glow. Dun dun dun.
Yes, I know there are like a million things wrong with this. Don’t tell me you never wanted to work Islam into SPN’s crazy storyline, anathema as it may be.