"We must accept finite disappointment. But never lose finite hope" - Martin Luther King JR
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THIRD PERSON • POV
Grimm felt like his blackened heart was about to burst; it was beating so hard inside his frail chest he feared his rib cage would shatter into one million pieces. The small demon stood anxiously off to the side of Castiel's bed, out of the way of the other angels who crowded around the sturdy, wooden, artisan crafted frame.
The grand bed chamber was dark aside from a small, yet powerful glow emanating hauntingly from the centre of the bundled sheets, casting shadows from the angels and their fluttering wings across the vast, white walls.
Grimm's view of the bed was obscured by their towering frames, but he knew all too well what lay there and the desperate heartache he felt intensified.
Aciel rumbled softly as though the intelligent lion knew it was important to remain silent but couldn't subdue his attentive nature all the same. He bumped up against Grimm's hip, showing the Reaper comfort and companionship as he acknowledged Grimm's terror.
Aciel was larger than Grimm, his massive head haloed with his bright white mane just about inline with Grimm's own height of around five feet. But the powerful lion's long, broad, muscular body and swishing tail made him a formidable beast, and Grimm almost stumbled from the lion's affections.
Though he was grateful all the same.
Since Castiel had disappeared, Aciel had become attached to Grimm and Saiph, never leaving their respective sides and Grimm had become acquainted with Aciel's demanding, magical presence. He was even grateful for it.
With Saiph's dire condition and being the only demon in heaven, he was pitifully lonely and outcast even if he was treated well enough by the others. Aciel's affections we're most definitely welcome.
Especially now.
Grimm shifted on foot to foot, anxiety stealing his breath away as the angels began to chant. It was low, harmonious humming at first, but steadily it grew louder, the rumbling voices of the Archangels, the Seraphims and the Council Elders coming together, singing in an ancient language Grimm couldn't understand.
It must have been native to Heaven, the same way Hell had its own ancient language adapted over millennia.
Shivers pricked the Reaper's skin, raising goosebumps along his thin, grey arms as he listened to their choir. He subconsciously lifted his hand, snagging boney fingers through Aciel's thick mane, needing something to hold on to as hope tried to take over the terror within him.
Saiph's soul, the source of the warm glow, began to throb and flicker, somehow affected by the chanting of the angels. That meant that it was working, right? The ceremonial ritual of resurrection was working...
Grimm prayed to the raging fire of the underworld that it was true. That Saiph was finally coming back to him after so many failed attempts to revive his body and return his soul to its rightful place.
He could just about see Saiph's headless form on the bed, now covered with a white sheet to mask the decay and combat the smell of the mutilated body.
Titus had reassured Grimm that it would mend and heal once his soul was back where it belonged, right beside its loving companion, the heart. Grimm hoped this would be the case.
As a Reaper, he was not afraid of death and decay. He was not afraid of the decomposing flesh, of the pungent smell of acidic bodily fluids and the disturbing sight of stale blood. But he missed Saiph's beaming smile. He missed his goofy laughter, his warm hugs and the way he always seemed to thrive with buzzing, excitable energy.
He longed for that living version of Saiph back, not the broken, dead body he was now accustomed with.
Grimm watched as Helios scattered ashes over the sheet Saiph lay beneath, scattering grey and black dust across the white planes. They were the ashes of burnt plants grown in Eden, Grimm had been informed. Plants that held healing, vitality properties the Reaper struggled to understand.
Helios had found the ritual in one of the ancient books of scripture they had been searching through for direction. Though the elders had suspected it was more a book of fables rather than an instruction manual, as no one in Heaven had ever performed a resurrection aside from Castiel.
However, Helios and Titus were prepared to do whatever it took to revive Saiph. The fate of Heaven depended on his return and his ascension to God status within the realm.
Grimm sucked in a sharp breath of air when the soul hovering over the bed began to tremble with energy, fuelled by the chanting and the magic of the ashes. It whirred and sparked, bright light erupting from its throbbing core.
Grimm flinched, orange eyes stark wide, enraptured by the sight, taken by the desperation and hope that burned within him. The angels glanced at each other, the same excitement and wonder reflected in their own expressions as they chanted with renewed vigour.
But just as quickly as the soul began to show signs of... something... it became dormant again, movement slowing until it was subdued and hovering above Saiph's body, bobbing and glowing just as before.
Grimm's hope withered away, crumbling to dust and his heart bottomed out in the depths of his concave stomach. Tears welled up in his eyes and he thought he'd collapse from despair and disappointment.
It hadn't worked.
Saiph wasn't coming back. Not today.
The chanting stopped, a chorus of groaning, murmured complaints and frustrated outbursts thundering through the room.
"This isn't working! This is what? The tenth ritual? Helios, we have to give this up!"
"No one can resurrect an angel aside from Castiel or, less conveniently, Creed! They're realm gods! We don't harness that kind of power! This is hopeless!"
"We're wasting our time. We should be appointing another leader-"
"We should be rescuing Castiel!"
Grimm leant heavily up against Aciel as the arguments blurred into a garbled mess of overwhelming conflict around him. He sank to his knees, pulling his hood lower over his bald head and hiding his sullen face against Aciel's shoulder.
The lion sat with a thump, urging Grimm closer and shielding the heartbroken Reaper from the curious eyes of the angels around him. Grimm cried, feeling utterly useless and stranded.
Without Saiph, he had no reason to stay in Heaven, no reason to run from the repercussions of his sins against Creed. He was in a world where he didn't belong and running from one in which he would be killed.
It was as though he was suspended between two evils, and the gut wrenching pain of realising Saiph was never coming back, only added to his turmoil. In that agonising moment he wished for nothing more than to disappear.
Aciel let out a rumbling growl, warning but not entirely vicious. Then firm, strong hands gently turned Grimm around. The Reaper blinked his huge, wet, amber gem-like eyes up at Helios who was smiling sadly.
"We'll try again Grimm. Don't give up just yet. Heaven will find a way. We always do. This is the realm of miracles after all."
Grimm sniffled, rubbing at his flat nose and mucus filled nostrils. He admired the Seraphim angel's positive optimism but he found it hard to grasp at the feelings and make them his own.
Everything felt hopeless. They kept on failing and it was in his nature to amplify the negative. His soul felt dark and heavy, weighed down with grief, anger and emotional turmoil.
"Saiph may never return," he whispered, shoulders shaking as he cried.
"This is true. But just as he may never return, there is a chance he may return tomorrow. We must not give up and I will try and try again until that day comes," Helios hummed, taking Grimm's hand and squeezing patiently. "I have faith, Grimm. You should too."
"I'm a demon, we don't trust in others - in fate. We don't practise faith like angels. We don't believe in our Sire, we fear him. We don't believe in tomorrow's happiness because every day is hell. Having faith is to fill yourself with lies and fruitless promises that may never come true," Grimm continued as he was overtaken by the darkness within him.
"It is its own special torture, Helios."
Helios stared briefly, taken aback by Grimm's upsetting confession. The strong-willed angel found it hard to understand Grimm's pessimistic ways since faith and belief had always been their way since he had been born and long before.
Hard work, prayer and a resilient mindset always prevailed.
He supposed that even after ten years in Heaven with Saiph, Grimm was still struggling to let go of his past and adapt to the way of the angel. He couldn't fault the demon for caving to his baser instincts.
Though he had to admit that the dark, depressing atmosphere surrounding the Reaper was unpleasant and unhelpful to everyone present. They were all frustrated and irritable, lost without their god and anxious without a leader.
His intelligent green eyes flickered towards Titus who was rubbing at his own wide tearful eyes as he watched them quietly from the sidelines. The young red-headed Seraphim was looking almost as dejected as Grimm and Helios couldn't accept that.
He knelt, gently clasping the Reaper around his waist and pulling him into his lap.
Grimm let out a startled gasp when he was settled on one thick thigh. He gasped again when Titus practically flew across the room to perch beside him on Helios' other thigh, occupying most of his lap, wings tucked so as not to poke out any eyes with his feathers.
Helios held them both, squeezing tightly and Grimm sank into the angel's caring embrace, almost breaking as he was held for the first time since Saiph's death and Castiel's disappearance. The emotions within him bubbled and spilled over.
The next thing he knew, he was sobbing into Helios' chest. Titus' muffled cries joined his own from where the young angel's face was buried against Helios' throat and Helios sighed as he petted the males, showing them empathy and comfort.
"Shhhh. You're okay. Both of you. We'll figure this out. Have faith in yourselves, in Saiph and in our lord, Castiel. Things will be better soon, I just know it."
He squeezed them, kissing their heads respectively, his six wings creating a formidable shield around them, protecting them from the prying eyes of those still occupying Castiel's bed chamber. For good measure, Aciel dropped to his belly before them, resting his huge head by Grimm's feet.
Helios began to wonder... was rescuing Castiel really their next best hope?
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A/N: A quick update on Grimm's situation! And a fitting, if not ironic chapter about a failed resurrection to fit the Easter season ☺️
See you next chapter for more Creed and Tobias! We're fast approaching the next climax of this story 🤭
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