Three Supernatural Drabbles
I originally wrote these for a drabble challenge for spnland (go Team Castiel! :), but since the moderator announced that she is closing down the community for the time being, I thought I'd post them here.
Thanks to the fabulous kaylbunny for taking a look at the last one for me, and making sure it made sense enough to post. :)
Title: Race
Rating: PG-ish
Word Count: 189
This is not how Castiel had imagined his first time riding in the Impala with the Winchester brothers would be.
Sam is at the wheel, driving about seventy miles per hour through a dimly lit residential area.
Castiel is in the back seat, trying frantically to staunch the blood pouring out of the gaping hole in Dean's stomach.
Not for the first time, Castiel wishes desperately that he had never helped Dean to break out of the Green Room. That he had ignored Dean's pleas, and just let everything happen exactly as Chuck had written it.
In the end, it made no difference anyway.
Sam still killed Lilith. Lucifer still rose. The apocalypse still started.
But now, Dean is dying. And because he disobeyed, Castiel is powerless to stop it. The angel who once dragged Dean's tattered soul out of Perdition and re-built him out of scraps, can do nothing but press a wadded-up t-shirt tightly against Dean's stomach and pray.
Pray for Sam to drive faster. Pray that Dean can hold out for just a bit longer. And pray that for once, God will be merciful.
Shots
Rating: PG-ish
Word Count: 200
Castiel watches from the shadows as Dean throws back shot after shot.
He is positive that Dean knows he's there, but the man steadfastly refuses to acknowledge his presence. Has refused to acknowledge him since the night he confessed to letting a demon-blood addicted Sam out of Bobby's panic room.
Castiel knows that Dean is angry. Understands why he is angry, and doesn't blame him for it in the slightest.
He knows he is the one that caused this. That it doesn't matter who made the first slice, or who broke the last seal. He was too late to stop the first one, and he enabled the last. Whatever happens in the future, this is all his fault.
"How could you, Cas?" Dean murmurs softly before he slumps over the bar, unconscious.
Slowly, Castiel walks over to the bar. After making sure the tab is paid, he leans over, and gently pulls the man up and onto his feet.
They won't talk about this in the morning. Most likely Dean won't even remember.
But Castiel feels a slight weight lifted off his shoulders as he half carries - half drags Dean out, and into the night.
It feels like penance.
Brothers
Rating: PG-ish
Word Count: 200
"You know what you have to do," Zachariah says matter-of-factly as he wanders around the small room. "Eventually, Sam will say yes to Lucifer. And when he does, you will need to step up and stop him once and for all."
"I won't do it."
"You don't have a choice," the angel says smugly. "This was written long ago. It has to happen."
"I won't kill my brother," comes the vehement response from across the room.
Zachariah scoffs, "He's not your brother anymo-"
The sentence is barely out of his mouth before Zachariah finds himself slamming into the nearest wall, his vessel's ribs cracking at the impact. A large hand squeezes his throat, and a rage-contorted face fills his vision. He shudders when a voice snarls in his ear, "Say that again, and I will kill you. Do I make myself clear?"
Knowing better than to push any further, Zachariah simply whispers, "Stop fighting your destiny," and flees, the other's screams of denial echoing in his head long after he vanishes from the room.
Finally alone, Michael slumps to the ground, his rage spent. Burying his head in his hands, he fervently prays that the eldest Winchester never says "yes."
Thanks to the fabulous kaylbunny for taking a look at the last one for me, and making sure it made sense enough to post. :)
Title: Race
Rating: PG-ish
Word Count: 189
This is not how Castiel had imagined his first time riding in the Impala with the Winchester brothers would be.
Sam is at the wheel, driving about seventy miles per hour through a dimly lit residential area.
Castiel is in the back seat, trying frantically to staunch the blood pouring out of the gaping hole in Dean's stomach.
Not for the first time, Castiel wishes desperately that he had never helped Dean to break out of the Green Room. That he had ignored Dean's pleas, and just let everything happen exactly as Chuck had written it.
In the end, it made no difference anyway.
Sam still killed Lilith. Lucifer still rose. The apocalypse still started.
But now, Dean is dying. And because he disobeyed, Castiel is powerless to stop it. The angel who once dragged Dean's tattered soul out of Perdition and re-built him out of scraps, can do nothing but press a wadded-up t-shirt tightly against Dean's stomach and pray.
Pray for Sam to drive faster. Pray that Dean can hold out for just a bit longer. And pray that for once, God will be merciful.
Shots
Rating: PG-ish
Word Count: 200
Castiel watches from the shadows as Dean throws back shot after shot.
He is positive that Dean knows he's there, but the man steadfastly refuses to acknowledge his presence. Has refused to acknowledge him since the night he confessed to letting a demon-blood addicted Sam out of Bobby's panic room.
Castiel knows that Dean is angry. Understands why he is angry, and doesn't blame him for it in the slightest.
He knows he is the one that caused this. That it doesn't matter who made the first slice, or who broke the last seal. He was too late to stop the first one, and he enabled the last. Whatever happens in the future, this is all his fault.
"How could you, Cas?" Dean murmurs softly before he slumps over the bar, unconscious.
Slowly, Castiel walks over to the bar. After making sure the tab is paid, he leans over, and gently pulls the man up and onto his feet.
They won't talk about this in the morning. Most likely Dean won't even remember.
But Castiel feels a slight weight lifted off his shoulders as he half carries - half drags Dean out, and into the night.
It feels like penance.
Brothers
Rating: PG-ish
Word Count: 200
"You know what you have to do," Zachariah says matter-of-factly as he wanders around the small room. "Eventually, Sam will say yes to Lucifer. And when he does, you will need to step up and stop him once and for all."
"I won't do it."
"You don't have a choice," the angel says smugly. "This was written long ago. It has to happen."
"I won't kill my brother," comes the vehement response from across the room.
Zachariah scoffs, "He's not your brother anymo-"
The sentence is barely out of his mouth before Zachariah finds himself slamming into the nearest wall, his vessel's ribs cracking at the impact. A large hand squeezes his throat, and a rage-contorted face fills his vision. He shudders when a voice snarls in his ear, "Say that again, and I will kill you. Do I make myself clear?"
Knowing better than to push any further, Zachariah simply whispers, "Stop fighting your destiny," and flees, the other's screams of denial echoing in his head long after he vanishes from the room.
Finally alone, Michael slumps to the ground, his rage spent. Burying his head in his hands, he fervently prays that the eldest Winchester never says "yes."