Marvel: Castiel

It had been two weeks since Castiel had nearly lost Rogue to the strange backlash of his holy energy. Since then, training had resumed like normal—sessions with Wolverine, sparring with Illyana, and quiet evenings at the mansion. But on this night, something stirred deep inside his mind.

Castiel tossed in his bed, brow furrowed as his dreams twisted into something darker. It wasn't the usual dream. No wings. No smiting. No Illyana. This was… wrong.

The air in his dream was thick and cold. He found himself standing in the chapel of the small church in Canada—the one where he'd lived under Father William. Only it wasn't peaceful anymore.

It was burning.

And in the center of the flame-lit sanctuary, Father William was bound to a chair, beaten, bleeding, and surrounded by three humans whose eyes glowed pure black.

Castiel's voice caught in his throat. "What the hell is this?"

One of the demons smiled and drove a blade into Father William's side. The priest screamed.

Castiel woke with a choked cry, chest heaving, sweat pouring down his face. "No… no no no—"

He grabbed the hilt of the broken Sword of Michael from beneath his pillow and, without hesitation, called upon his wings and vanished from his dorm.

The church was real. The blood was real. Father William was strapped to a chair just like in the dream. Castiel rushed forward—until he hit something. Hard.

A barrier.

He looked down. Demonic symbols scorched the wooden floor around him, glowing red and flickering like fire.

Clapping echoed in the hollow church. Three men stepped out of the shadows. Their eyes were full black.

"You…" Castiel growled.

"We're not here for a fight," the tallest one said, his voice oily and mocking. "We want something. Give us the hilt of Michael's sword."

Castiel laughed bitterly. "You really think I'm gonna give you this?"

One of them nodded toward Father William. "Then the old man dies."

He clenched his fists and tried to teleport. Nothing. The symbols held him firm.

"You're not used to being caged, are you?" another demon sneered. "Lesser angels like you can't resist demonic circles."

"Lesser?" Castiel whispered.

His fingers tightened around the hilt. He closed his eyes. He didn't need to be a full angel. He just needed to be enough.

With a cry, Castiel poured holy energy into the sword. Blue fire ignited around the broken blade. The demonic circle cracked, then shattered.

The demons froze. "That's impossible… only archangels—"

Too late.

Castiel's wings flashed behind him, their shadows dark on the walls. He raised the blade and smote the first demon, turning him to ash. The second turned to run, but Castiel teleported behind him and struck him down in a burst of golden light.

Only one remained.

Castiel advanced, fury glowing in his eyes—but Father William's voice cut through the haze.

"Stop! We can learn from this one."

The demon began to panic, opening his mouth wide. Black smoke poured from his body, the demon's essence trying to flee. Castiel lunged, slammed his glowing hand over the man's chest, and shoved the smoke back inside.

The possessed man collapsed, unconscious.

Castiel turned to the priest. "What now?"

"Pick him up. We're going to the Hall of the Watcher."

They descended into the church's secret chamber, a cathedral beneath the earth, where the statue of Saint Michael towered with its sword held high. They tied the man to the base.

"How do we wake him?" Castiel asked.

Father William took a small flask from inside his coat. "Holy water. Blessed in Jerusalem."

He splashed it across the man's face. The demon screamed as his skin hissed. The statue of Michael glowed faintly.

"Mercy! Mercy!" the demon begged. Its voice warped between the human's and something deeper, darker.

Castiel hesitated—until Father William's firm voice said, "Burn him. Get the truth."

Castiel placed his hand on the man's forehead and let holy power surge. Smoke rose. The demon thrashed and screamed until—

"STOP! STOP! I don't know why they want the sword! My superior sent me! That's all!"

"Who?" Father William demanded.

The demon tried to resist, but Castiel pressed harder.

"Azazel!" the demon spat, writhing. "Azazel sent me!"

"And where is he?"

"I don't know! He hides even from us!"

Father William nodded grimly. "Then we're done here."

Castiel looked to the priest. "What happens to him?"

"You kill him."

Castiel paused, torn.

"But he's a person…"

"Not anymore," Father William said. "Only the damned can be possessed. That host was already gone long before the demon took over. Kill him, Castiel."

He did.

A single stab of the holy sword. A flash of light. And then silence.

The weight hit Castiel immediately. "What did I just do?"

"You freed a soul from a fate worse than death," Father William said softly. "Demons serve only one master now. Lucifer."

As he said the name, the great statue of Saint Michael blazed with holy fury. For a moment, Castiel could almost hear a heartbeat in the stone.

"Come," Father William said. "Dispose of the body. Let the sea take it."

Castiel nodded, gently lifting the corpse. He teleported far into the Atlantic, watching the waves take the body, letting it sink into the dark below.

When he returned, Father William sat quietly.

"What do we do now?" Castiel asked.

"We hunt. But not tonight. Rest, Castiel."

Castiel hesitated. "I should tell the headmaster."

"Then do."

With a deep breath, Castiel vanished again, reappearing in his dorm. His roommates blinked at him.

"Where were you, man?"

"Home," Castiel said quietly. "I need to leave."

He made his way to Charles Xavier's office. The Professor greeted him with a calm smile.

"Father William was attacked," Castiel explained everything. "I have to go with him."

Charles listened in silence, then nodded. "You will always have a place here, Castiel. And friends waiting."

Castiel smiled faintly. "Thank you."

As he stepped out of the office, he saw Illyana waiting in the hallway.

"Is it true?" she asked. "You're leaving?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

She didn't speak—she just hugged him tight. Castiel stiffened in surprise.

"I'll come back," he promised.

"You better." And before he could react, she leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

His eyes widened. Her face turned slightly pink, but she only gave him a look.

"Now go."

Still stunned, Castiel vanished, reappearing back in the church. Father William looked up at him.

"You ready?"

Castiel's hand tightened around the hilt of the sword.

"I am."

"Then rest. Tomorrow, the hunt begins."