✎ Fel's Creative Journal (tinfoiltennis) wrote,
✎ Fel's Creative Journal

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✎ fanfic - supernatural/madoka magica - i shall not suffer them to take my children

Title: i shall not suffer them to take my children
Fandom: Supernatural/Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Bobby Singer, Madoka Kaname, Sayaka Miki, Death
Rating: PG-13 for occasional language and some disturbing imagery.
Summary: Madoka was almost at the source when she suddenly realized that there was no Grief Seed, and caught in that no-man’s land, she froze. She had no idea what to do.
Word Count: 5588
Notes: I like fix-it fics. I like crossovers. I think Castiel deserved a better end than he got. And no one will ever be able to convince me that season 6 wasn't the story of his contract and the start of season 7 wasn't his transformation into a witch, that is totally under Madoka's jurisdiction mmkay? mmkay.
Warnings: SPOILERS for all of Madoka Magica, and up to 7x01 of Supernatural. Also my hideously self-indulgent writing and my own theories about the prophets and God in the spn-verse. Also abuse of the poor prophet Isaiah.

✎ ✎ ✎

“I’ll find some way to redeem myself to you.”

Dean wasn’t sure what the hell he was feeling right about now. Cas was alive – alive, and here, and very much himself, and that was more than Dean thought he could ever hope for again. On the other hand – he didn’t want to think about redemption or forgiveness. He couldn’t, not yet. Because then he’d start thinking about the things that he wasn’t sure he could forgive (Sam) and the things that he was pretty sure were some of his own fault and – he couldn’t think about that shit right now. He just couldn’t.

Right about now, he just wanted a little bit of time to be relieved about something going right for once.

“Well – well one thing at a time, now come on,” he managed to stammer, tugging on Cas’s arm. “Let’s get you outta here, come on.”

Cas grabbed Dean’s arm in turn, pulling him back. “I mean it, Dean.” And – Jesus, he looked like he really did mean it, eyes wide and pleading like he needed Dean to let Cas redeem himself, somehow. Like he needed Dean’s permission to even try.

Dean didn’t know what to say.

“Okay,” he managed. He sounded a hell of a lot more uncertain than he would have liked. “Alright, let’s go find Sam, okay.”

He hadn’t even gone one pace before he felt Cas shove him in the back, hard.

“You need to run now!”

Dean turned to find Cas bent almost double, clutching the side of the nearest worktop like his life depended on it.

“I – I can’t hold them back!” he gasped.

“Hold who back?” But Dean had a horrible feeling that he already knew.

“They held on inside me! Dean –” his voice broke on Dean’s name. Dean felt it stab him in the gut as Cas met his eyes, desperate and afraid. “They’re so strong!”

“Who the hell—” Bobby started, watching the scene with wide eyes.


Dean felt his blood run cold. No no no no no, they’d just got through this, they’d just saved him, they’d just put back the souls, this couldn’t happen now—

Cas was writhing in front of them, hands white knuckled on the steel counter. “I can’t fight them!”

Dean swallowed. He pushed Bobby away towards the door. “Go – find Sam, go!” he urged him. Like hell he’d leave Sam alone out there with his wall down and hallucinations of hell driving him crazy, but he couldn’t leave Cas alone either. Not to face this.

Not this time.

“Too late!”

Dean turned, wide-eyed, to find Cas (no, not Cas, the Cas he knew would never wear a smile like that) grinning at him with madness in his eyes.


“Cas is –” the thing paused, like it was searching for the right words. “Hm, he’s gone. He’s – dead,” it added with a shrug, and Dean’s stomach dropped. “We run the show now!”

Dean had about enough time to think that he was stupid to ever expect this one thing to go any differently to the rest of his life before the monsters wearing Cas’s face threw him across the room.

✎ ✎ ✎

The thing about the Leviathans is that they lie.

This isn’t always something to put hope into.

✎ ✎ ✎

One of the greatest mysteries of Heaven was that of the lost prophet. In fact, it was so great a mystery that hardly anyone was aware that there was a mystery to begin with.

The names of all the prophets in history, past, future and present, were seared into every angel’s brain from the moment they came into existence.

One of them went missing.

As one would expect, it wasn’t the conventional kind of missing. Between one oscillation of celestial intent and the next, one of the names on the list was suddenly missing, as if it had never been. And no one noticed. No one, that was, except the Archangels. They were the only ones powerful enough, and Michael, the brightest, highest of all, ordered an investigation into the whereabouts of the missing name.

They never found her. It was, the returning scouts reported, as if she had never existed in the first place. Indeed, the scouts themselves seemed puzzled that Michael had asked them to search for someone whom no one could remember having ever lived, or what was so important about a nonexistent gospel.

Time wore on, and for a long time no one thought to question that it was a long time since anyone had even seen their Father.

✎ ✎ ✎

In one of Madoka’s human lives, she started having strange dreams.

It wasn’t a universe where she became a Puella Magi, so even after she became hope, she couldn’t remember it clearly unless she put her mind to it. But when she did, she remembered waking up with a start, shaking at the vivid images spiraling through her mind. She remembered being so very, very scared, of going to get a glass of water and trying to talk to her mother.

She remembered that she didn’t end up doing either of those things, because to get to the kitchen she had to pass her campus notebook, still lying discarded from where she was doing her homework the night before.

She remembered feeling the compulsion to write, and so she sat down, and opened the notebook. She didn’t even know why, she just knew that she had to. That it was important.

She began to write, the edges of the kanji blurring as she tried to get everything down on paper.

And then she just kept writing.

✎ ✎ ✎

There was something that people never knew about the prophets, not even the Archangels. If anyone other than God Himself knew, it would have been Death, but of course, if Death knew, he wasn’t telling.

The potential to be a vessel ran in bloodlines; that sort of lore was easily available to anyone who cared to look. What no one knew was that this wasn’t strictly true; or rather, there was an exception that proved the rule.

The prophets weren’t suitable to be human conduits for God’s Word by mere chance.

✎ ✎ ✎

Ascending to godhood was a rush that Madoka hadn’t expected.

Truthfully, she hadn’t had any idea what to expect at all. A thousand thoughts and ideas and memories and something like white hot light flooded her all at once, taking her breath away and leaving her feeling like she could do anything. She was Hope itself, and she wasn’t afraid.

Rearranging the universe – all of the universes – took time, and there were always witches to fight, magical girls to guide onwards. But time was something she quickly realized didn’t matter anymore, or at least, not to her.

It took her a while adjusting to her new role before she realized that she was carrying eons and eons worth of memories that weren’t hers.

But they felt like they were.

✎ ✎ ✎

Sometimes, being in tune with everything in creation was one of the most breathtaking things Madoka had ever known. Everything sang with a sort of beauty she’d never even imagined in any of her human lives. Things glowed. Even the bad things or the sad things paled in comparison; there was just so much that was beautiful to protect.

Sometimes, there were other times. Madoka had no reason to feel despair herself, but for every witch she fought and every new girl she guided to the next world, there was that tug beforehand from the corrupted soul gem – that awful, crushing weight of despair and hopelessness and such utter loneliness that it made her want to cry before she took it from them.

Once, she felt it from somewhere she’d never felt before. Desperation and despair and so much pain that she started before vanishing. Suffocating realization that everything you’d struggled for was for nothing, and regret.

There was so much regret.

She was almost at the source when she suddenly realized that there was no Grief Seed, and caught in that no-man’s land, she froze.

Madoka had no idea what to do.

✎ ✎ ✎

They say that when God created His angels, the light was so brilliant that none could stand to look upon it except for God Himself.

Madoka remembered this, and she realized:

She knew who it was.

✎ ✎ ✎

One of the things Madoka had soon learned about being God was that your form was defined by the people around you.

To most of the Puella Magi, Madoka had been a saviour; a saviour they could talk to and touch, but a saviour nonetheless. They were her friends, and she loved them all dearly, but to them, she’d always be a mother, a sister. A god, she guessed. When she was with them, it was with her hair long and her gown billowing out with the stars of the universe in its lining behind her.

It wasn’t the same with Sayaka.

Sayaka was still one of Madoka’s best friends. Madoka didn’t think that would ever change. When she was with Sayaka, she didn’t have to be hope, or God. She could just be Madoka, because that’s all Sayaka expected her to be. She could just be a friend instead of a mother.

She had to admit, sometimes that was a relief. She’d never regret her decision, not ever, but sometimes Madoka missed being ordinary.

She found her friend in Hanae’s garden. In the same way Madoka’s looks were defined by other people, her Heaven was defined by the people in it. That’s the way she wanted it: a paradise of everyone’s own making. Hanae grew flowers – roses, mostly – that stretched up taller and more beautiful than would have been possible on Earth. Sometimes there were picnics, and while Chinatsu brought cheesecake from her kitchen, Sayaka brought the music.

Sayaka was deep in conversation with Hanae about the pros and cons of baroque versus romantic composers when Madoka appeared behind them. Both girls started and turned, Sayaka’s face breaking into a wide smile.

“Madoka! Where’ve you been?”

“Mmm, around,” Madoka said. She turned to Hanae apologetically. “Sorry, Hanae-chan, but could I speak to Sayaka-chan by myself for a little bit? It’s important.”

“Of course, Madoka-san!” Hanae’s eyes were wide as she gave a little bow and wandered off with her watering can in hand. Hanae had always reminded Madoka of Hitomi a little. They were both refined that way. Sayaka frowned slightly, but didn’t say anything until Hanae had gone.

“What’s wrong?”

Madoka sighed as she felt her hair shorten back into its twintails, her gown fading into a summer dress. “Well… it’s complicated,” she admitted dejectedly.

Sayaka folded her arms, cocking her head. “God-stuff complicated?”

Madoka nodded. “Kind of.”

“It’s not witches, is it?” Sayaka’s frown deepened, and Madoka suddenly felt warm inside. Sayaka had never stopped wanting to help protect people, had never stopped being her friend. She appreciated that more than ever.

“Mm-mm,” Madoka said, shaking her head. “I’m used to witches now. You know they don’t scare me.” She flashed a reassuring smile at her friend.

“Yeah, but you’re still fighting them on your own all the time,” Sayaka muttered. She let out a long breath. “Still, I guess if you’re God, you really can handle it, right?”

Madoka giggled. “Yup!”

Sayaka grinned at her, but quickly became serious again. “So… if it’s not witches, what is it?”

“Mm…” Madoka hummed, trying to gather her thoughts for what she wanted to say. “Well, it’ll take a while to explain, I think, so…” An idea occurred to her and she brightened. “I’ll tell you over ice cream?”

“Huh?” Sayaka blinked for a moment, then suddenly laughed. Madoka knew she’d got it too; since they were kids, they’d talked about things that worried them over ice cream at the mall. Hitomi had come too on the days she didn’t have to go to extra class, but it had always been their thing. She was glad Sayaka still remembered it too.

“Like old times, right?” Sayaka said with a fond smile. “Alright, you’re on.”

✎ ✎ ✎


A giant sundae glass and two spoons between them, the two friends sat side by side facing a stretch of beach, light sparkling off the water. The sun was setting. Sayaka ate a spoonful of ice cream and swallowed before speaking.

“What’s up?”

Madoka sighed, twirling her spoon in her hand. “You know that I can see everything that’s ever happened in every world, right?” She leaned over and scooped the cherry off the top of the sundae. That had always been her favourite. “That’s how I know when a Grief Seed is being formed.”

“Well yeah, but…” Sayaka frowned, her spoon half way to her mouth. “I thought you said this wasn’t about witches.”

“It’s not.” Madoka shook her head. “I thought I’d felt a new one, but it didn’t feel quite the same… and it was from a world where magical girls and witches never existed at all.”

“What?” Sayaka almost dropped her mouthful of ice cream in surprise. “Even before you rewrote everything?”

“Yes,” Madoka nodded. “Things are very different there. There’s still distortion, but it’s not witches. But it felt… hmm, how can I put this… it felt really nostalgic.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not really sure,” Madoka told her sheepishly. “I just felt really attached to it, and… lonely.” She worried her lip between her teeth. “Like it was somewhere I hadn’t seen in a long time, and I’d left a lot of things behind.”

“More God-stuff?” Sayaka guessed.

“I think so.”

Sayaka sighed. “Geez. Madoka, your life is crazy.” She ran a hand through her hair. “So, then… if it wasn’t a Grief Seed, what was it?”

“It’s difficult to say exactly, but whatever it is… Sayaka-chan, he’s in so much trouble!” Madoka turned to her friend imploringly. “I want to help him, but I’m not even sure if I can!”

“Because of the rules your contract put on you, right?”

Madoka nodded miserably. “I’ve been seeing how far I can stretch things, and Tatsuya can still see me. I’ve even played with him sometimes.” She laughed, trying to hold back tears. “But that’s it. No one else can see me, so even if I tried… I don’t know if it’d work.”

Sayaka leaned over and put her arm around Madoka. “Hey, it’s okay. We can figure something out, right?” She frowned, determination in her eyes. “Hey, Madoka, can you tell me anything else about who you want to help?”

“Um…” Madoka closed her eyes, leaning against Sayaka’s shoulder. “Well, actually…” she laughed nervously, “he reminds me a lot of you, Sayaka-chan.”


“He keeps trying so hard to do the right thing,” Madoka explained. “But the harder he tries, the more things go wrong.” She shivered, remembering how much raw despair she’d felt. “To tell you the truth, I think Mama said something similar to me once.” She sighed. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Sayaka was quiet for a long moment.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Eh?” Madoka sat up so quickly she almost made herself dizzy. “It is?”

“Well, yeah!” Sayaka looked at her exasperatedly. “Tatsuya shouldn’t be able to see you or remember you, right?”


“And you thought what was happening to that guy felt like a Grief Seed at first too, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then it’s obvious! You’ve got to go and help him!” Sayaka looked at her, eyes hard with determination. “You’re Hope, aren’t you? So it’s only your job, isn’t it?” She laughed suddenly. “Come on, Madoka, you already rewrote the entire universe and broke all the rules! There can’t be any harm in trying to break more of them.”

For a long moment, Madoka just stared. “Do you think so?”


Madoka launched forwards and wrapped her arms around Sayaka’s neck, making the taller girl squawk. “Thank you, Sayaka-chan!”

She released her friend just as quickly, raising an arm to summon her bow out of the air. Sayaka met her determined smile with one of her own.

“Alright. Go be a hero of justice!” she declared.

Madoka smiled despite herself and nodded. “Right. I’m going!”

“Come back safe, alright?”

Madoka gave one final nod. Then she took a deep breath and vanished.

✎ ✎ ✎

Unseen by human eyes, three seraphs watched as the man in front of them feverishly scribbled by candlelight.

Michael frowned. “‘He will punish Leviathan, the coiled snake, with his great and powerful sword,’” he read off the papyrus. Looking up, he frowned faintly at one of the others. “Are you sure you passed on the message properly?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, giving his brother a Look. “Of course I did,” he said dismissively. “Don’t shoot the messenger, big bro, I just pass on what I’m given.”

“‘Sword’ is a metaphor for ‘vessel’,” Raphael frowned. “Who could possibly be a vessel for our Father?”

“A more pressing matter is who would be foolish enough in the future to dare release the Leviathan,” Michael retorted mildly.

Gabriel shrugged.

✎ ✎ ✎

Dean and Bobby looked on in helpless terror as Castiel vainly tried to hold back whatever the hell was trying to get out of him.

“Who the hell—” Bobby started, vague horror creeping into his voice.


Dean felt his blood run cold. No no no no no, they’d just got through this, they’d just saved him, they’d just put back the souls, this couldn’t happen now—

Cas was writhing in front of them, hands white knuckled on the steel counter. “I can’t fight them!”

Dean swallowed. He pushed Bobby away towards the door. “Go – find Sam, go!” he urged him. Like hell he’d leave Sam alone out there with his wall down and hallucinations of hell driving him crazy, but he couldn’t leave Cas alone either. Not to face this.

Not this time.

“Too late!”

Dean turned, wide-eyed, to find Cas (no, not Cas, the Cas he knew would never wear a smile like that) grinning at him with madness in his eyes.


“Cas is –” the thing paused, like it was searching for the right words. “Hm, he’s gone. He’s – dead,” it added with a shrug, and Dean’s stomach dropped. “We run the show now!”

Dean had about enough time to think that he was stupid to ever expect this one thing to go any differently to the rest of his life before—

“You’re lying.”

It was a voice – a girl’s voice of all things, and even though she wasn’t speaking English (how the hell did he know she wasn’t speaking English?), he understood her. Dean threw a wild-eyed glance at Bobby, who looked just as clueless as he did. What was it now? A ghost? Some sort of demon or monster that hadn’t got sucked back into Purgatory but hadn’t stuck around inside Cas either?

There was a bright, brilliant flash of light, and then –

And then suddenly Dean didn’t know what the hell was going on anymore.

A girl stood – no, floated – there with her back to him, her long hair and the train of her gown fanning out behind her in long waves. In one hand she clutched a long bow, and she faced the Leviathan defiantly. Dean could see the jut of her chin even just standing behind her.

Dean stared.

The girl turned her head, and her eyes were blazing like gold fire. Then quite suddenly, she smiled.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, before turning back to their foe. “It’s all going to be okay now.”

✎ ✎ ✎

Hell was Hell for every creature, or so the saying went. They weren’t wrong, but speaking from a purely technical viewpoint, the torture in Hell was at best primitive. Designed by those who were once human to be used on those who weren’t going to retain their humanity for much longer, and coupled with a complete absence of hope, the various instruments of torture ran deep, but at their core, they were just finely tuned versions of their earthly counterparts.

Heavenly torture was arguably worse, possibly because no one expected Heaven to dole out torture. It may have also had something to do with the way it was delivered with all of a soldier’s precision and all of the imagination of those who have had to find a way to cause pain to creatures that were infinitely stronger than human beings and reputably emotionless.

Purgatory’s variant on the theme was something else entirely.

✎ ✎ ✎

Leviathans lie. That doesn’t mean you should take comfort from that fact.

✎ ✎ ✎

Everything hurt.

Trapped with voices laughing everywhere, ripping and tearing and mocking and tangled up so tight with everything that he was that it was impossible now to tell where he ended and they began. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore. Spinning around and passed from one to another with tattered edges trailing viscously behind and they laughed when he tried to fight back,

no one knows you’re in here

and outside – out there they had to run, they had to before they (he? Did it matter?) killed them or worse, run, just run, please just run

how sweet, shame they can’t hear you

it wouldn’t stop, it was never going to stop

maybe this was his punishment

And then there was just light, and everything stopped.

✎ ✎ ✎

They knew who she was, and they feared her.

Madoka blazed as she raised her bow, the familiar symbols forming in the ether as she bore down on them in the darkness they’d created. They hissed and screeched at her as she nocked her arrow, expression hard and unyielding.

“You’re missing!”

“And you don’t belong here,” Madoka said coldly.

Things ended very quickly after that.

✎ ✎ ✎

I shall smite the Behemoth and cast them into oblivion; For I am a jealous God, And I shall not suffer them to take My children.

- an extract from the Lost Book of Madoka, chapter 46, verses 1-3.

✎ ✎ ✎

When it was over, Madoka sighed heavily, letting the fire die down from her eyes. Her bow left her hand and vanished as she unclenched it.

“I’m exactly who you think I am,” she said with a sad smile as she turned to face the only creature who was left. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for taking so long.”

✎ ✎ ✎

Castiel was sure that he was hallucinating.

It was the only way this could be possible.

The light faded little by little, letting what – no, who – was casting it be more visible, but Castiel didn’t need to see to know who the light had come from. He just knew.

But it couldn’t be possible. The name he’d been about to call died as a thought as the figure turned.

“I’m exactly who you think I am,” she said. Like she was reading his mind. “And I’m sorry.” Her eyes filled with sadness as she drifted over, her hair streaming behind her. “I’m so sorry for taking so long,” she murmured softly, wrapping her arms around him and drawing him into an embrace.

A thousand thoughts flooded him at once along with a great, blanketing warmth. How is this possible? Where were you when I called for you? Why now?

“I’m sorry,” she said again. The warmth was still there, and he leaned into it almost instinctively. “It took a long time for me to become like this, and so I couldn’t do anything until now.” She drew back a little, and smiled. “But I’m here now. I promise. This is real.”

“Why?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Mmm, well…” she tilted her head a little, mock-considering. “I didn’t want all your hard work to go to waste. You’ve been fighting so hard all this time, Castiel-san. It wasn’t fair.” Her smile softened. “It’s over now.”


“Shh.” She put a finger to his lips. “It’s over. Everyone makes mistakes.” Her smile became somewhat conspiratorial. “Even I’ve made mistakes before.”

Castiel didn’t know what to say. He didn’t understand how everything he’d done – working with a demon, tearing down Sam’s wall, daring to impersonate God, putting the entire world at risk because of his arrogance – he didn’t understand how that could be so quickly brushed off.

She huffed a small laugh. “What’s the matter?” she asked, her voice caught somewhere between amusement and sadness. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved?”

“I…” Hearing his own words echoed back at him gave him pause. “What I’ve done—”

“‘The road to Hell is paved with good intentions,’” she interrupted. “That’s what they say, right?” She paused. “There’ll be time for everything to be made right. I know there will. But for now, come with me?”

She reached a hand down to grasp one of his. “Let’s go home.”

✎ ✎ ✎

Dean threw his arms up to shield against a flash of blinding light, squinting enough to see the girl gently lower Cas’s body down to the floor as it faded. She crouched there for a moment, one hand on his face, before sighing and straightening up.

Dean’s mouth and legs finally started working again, and he scrambled to his feet himself. “Hey!” The girl turned slowly, looking at him. “What the hell did you do to him?” Cas wasn’t moving, which meant great, no Leviathans, but did that mean no Cas either? Had this girl, whoever – or whatever – she was, killed him along with them?

She offered him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I have to take him with me now. It’s part of the rules.”

“What rules?” Dean demanded, not liking the sound of that at all. “Who the hell are you?”

“Kaname Madoka.” She smiled. “Well, that was my human name, anyway. You can just call me Madoka, Dean-san.”

Her human name? Was? “What are you?”

“I’m God.”

Dean felt his heart stop. God? Of all the things it could have been, the actual God was a teenage girl who had a thing for hair ribbons? Seriously?

“If you’re God,” Bobby said, “then where the hell’ve you been these past few years?” His voice was skeptical, but his wide eyes showed that he was just as freaked as Dean was.

Madoka – if that was her name – bowed her head. “It’s complicated,” she said sadly. “I couldn’t become like this for a long time, and even now, there’s still rules I have to follow.”

Dean scoffed, a small huff of breath. “So even God’s got rules, huh?” he muttered. “Well isn’t that just convenient.” He scowled at her, bristling, fists clenching as anger returned in full force. “Your stupid rules stop you from answering anyone who asks you for help? I must’ve asked you for help a hundred times while your kids were trying to cause the Apocalypse. And what about Cas, huh? He’s an angel, he must’ve been calling for you over and over, why the hell didn’t you answer him? You’re fucking God, for crying out loud!”

Madoka met his eyes when he stopped for breath, and that breath he’d been taking caught in his throat. I know everything, those eyes seemed to say, and I’m sorry, and even you shouldn’t blame yourself, though how Dean got that from just one look was beyond him.

“I would have come earlier if I could,” she said quietly. “I really am sorry.”

Just like that, Dean couldn’t be angry anymore. He just felt – tired. Freaking exhausted from all the crap that had happened. The Leviathans were gone, but his brother was still wandering around stuck in crazytown and his – Cas was on the floor motionless, again, and now to cap it all off God had finally shown her face. It was all just too heavy for him to stay angry.

“Just forget it,” he muttered, eyes straying to Cas’s still form. “What about Cas, huh? What are you gonna do with him?”

“Take him with me, for a while.”

“A while, that’d be God-speak for forever, right?” Fuck it. Just fuck it. Saved from Purgatoria monsters or not, it just figured that they wouldn’t be able to come back out of this alive and be able to keep each other around, too.

Madoka shook her head. “Mm-mm. He might be able to come back one day.” She smiled. “I’ve never done this for an angel before. I don’t know what might happen.” She walked closer, looking up at Dean with gentle eyes. “He needs time, Dean-san. And so do you and Sam. I –” she hesitated again, looking down. “I can’t replace the wall yet. I can’t bend the rules that far yet. But I know that if he has you and Bobby-san to look after him, he’ll get better. It’ll take a while, but he will.”

She stepped backwards, her outline slowly fading. “Sorry,” she said regretfully. “It looks like I have to go. I can’t stay here for too long either.”

“But you’re God!” Dean tried. “Can’t you just break those rules if you wanted to?”

“Not yet,” Madoka said, her upper body fading from view now. “But I’m working on it.” She smiled warmly. “Maybe one day you’ll see me again. Just don’t give up, okay?”

Her eyes were the last thing to fade, and then she was gone.

Dean and Bobby looked at each other.

“Well,” Bobby started, looking shell-shocked. “Quite a day.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, because what else could he say to that? How else could he react to that apart from screaming himself hoarse? His eyes flickered back to Cas’s vessel – his body, it wasn’t like it hadn’t been at least half his by the end, there – and then he moved closer to him, crouching down beside him.

Damn it, Cas. Dean felt a hard lump in his throat, a prickling behind his eyes, and he swallowed hard, pushing it away. Sam. He had to think about Sam. Wherever Cas was – wherever God, Madoka, had taken him – Dean couldn’t get there now.

He just had to do the things he could. Cause that was all he could do.

“What now?”

Dean looked up at Bobby. “Now we find Sam,” he said heavily. “We find Sam, and we lie low, and we deal with whatever crap his hallucinations are gonna throw at him.”

“And…” Bobby’s voice faltered for a brief second. “Cas?”

Dean swallowed. “We’ll take him with us,” he said gruffly, straightening up. “Hunter’s funeral, we can give him that much.”

He felt rather than saw Bobby’s nod.

✎ ✎ ✎

“I hope you’re aware that was cheating. You broke your own rules.”

The table was set for two, a simple white tablecloth thrown over it and two wooden chairs sat on either side. The gentleman in the severe black suit held a pair of chopsticks delicately and transferred a salmon nori roll from a box to his mouth, chewing slowly.

His companion chuckled and looked up at the galaxies wheeling over their heads. “Actually, Death-san,” Madoka said brightly, transferring steaming hot stew from the nabe pot on the table to Death’s bowl, “I didn’t really. All I was doing was bringing hope.” She placed the bowl in front of him with a little bow. “I just bent the rules a little to do it, that’s all. It was still doing my job.”

“Hmm.” Death let out a considering hum, meeting her eyes. “I always did think that I liked you better after this change. You’re one of the few reasons planet Earth is still even mildly entertaining for me.” He picked up a china spoon and scooped up some of the stew. “So, what now? Now that you’re discovering you can bend the rules your own wish put in place, are you going to interfere everywhere, I wonder?”

Madoka swallowed a mouthful of rice. “Mmm, I don’t think so,” she said. “Where things are really bad, maybe. But I wouldn’t want to take away people’s decisions. That’s the point of free will in the first place, right?”

Death sat back and surveyed her over his green tea. The steam wafted and curled in front of his eyes. “I know you too well to think that was either completely a rhetorical question or one you actually want me to answer,” he replied measuredly. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I should hope you would know the point of free will yourself. It was your idea in the first place.”

Madoka just smiled at him.

“How is your latest addition to your wayward collection, anyway?”

“I think he’s going to be okay.” Madoka looked down at her lunch, her eyes fond. “There’s lots of time. And I think that one day he’ll be able to get back.”

“Hm. Once you’ve bent some more of your own rules, you mean.” Death wiped his mouth with a napkin. “On occasion, your optimism verges on being sickening.” He rose to his feet. “That nabe was excellent, by the way.”

Madoka giggled, rising herself. “Thank you, Death-san,” she beamed. “It was Papa’s recipe, really. I’ve just had time to practice it.”

“I know.” He sounded almost amused. “We had both best be going. Duty doesn’t stop no matter how much influence one has over time.”

“I know.” She bowed again. “Until next time?”

“Of course.”

✎ ✎ ✎

Don’t forget:

Always, somewhere, someone is fighting for you.

As long as you remember her,

You are not alone.
Tags: canon: puella magi madoka magica, canon: supernatural, character: bobby singer, character: castiel, character: dean winchester, character: madoka kaname, character: sayaka miki, crossover, fannish, fic, type: au

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