Character(s)/Pairing: Islington, Castiel
Theme: Theme 01: Elemental
Word count: 331
Disclaimer: Not Mine
Summary: Supernatural/Neverwhere crossover. Castiel observes Islington and sees nothing but pain.
Spoilers: A important plot point for Neverwhere is given away, but no spoilers for Supernatural.
Warnings/Author Notes: I'm not really sure how to warn for this, but it's very DARK.
'Stay where you are, Guardian of Thursday.'
Castiel had always observed. Every Thursday that had ever been stretched before it. It had watched as Atlantis rose from the sea like a kraken made of stone and glass. As humans filled the city, it marveled at how different they were from each other. Their souls twisted and melded with Atlantis making the city shine as if it were made of stained glass. Sometimes Castiel sat by their cooking fires just to smell the burning meat and to hear the laughter of green-eyed children.
Now, as much as Castiel wanted to fly back to the garrison all it could do was watch as Islington stroked the bloodied muzzle of a unicorn. Black and red lines swirled within Islington's grace robe and Castiel thought it finally knew what helplessness felt like. Even if some of the people were its charges and had been born on Thursdays, the guardian of a day could not interfere with the will of a guardian of a city.
Blood dripped from Islington's hands onto dark green grass as it laid the unicorn's head on the ground. The place where the unicorn's horn had been was a jagged stump and a few strands of its white mane were caught by the wind and carried across the ocean.
The wind died and for a moment the world was quite.
Then Islington stood up.
Castiel trembled, and so did Atlantis.
The sky darkened and rain pelted gray cobblestone streets; lightning lit up the sky like an angel's grace. Castiel felt water droplets slid down its cheeks and wondered how rain could have hit its face when the rest its vessel was dry. As rocks and earth fell into the churning ocean it closed its eyes. Try as it might, Castiel couldn't block out the screams of millions of souls.
Sometimes an angel's wrath came in the form of fire from the sky, but sometimes it came as a cold rain.