(no subject)
Title: Seven Times Castiel Saved Dean Before Dean Even Knew He Existed
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean/Cas pre-slash
You know who else had faith like that? Mom. She used to tell me when she tucked me in that angels were watching over me. She was wrong. - Dean Winchester, 2x13 “Houses of the Holy”
One
Castiel watches.
He watches the small boy as he ushers his brother off to school, before grabbing his own bag and a small knife off the table. The younger catches a bus outside, with the older walking along the damp sidewalk outside the motel they’re staying at.
The child looks at his feet as he heads out, hands shoved in his pockets, one playing with the blade he’s easily concealed on his person.
Castiel watches as someone watches Dean.
An older man, with thinning hair and simple features is hiding behind a tree, his eyes trained on the boy. He’s paying no attention, classmates joining his path as they get closer to the building.
The day is uneventful.
Dean walks home, his nose shoved in a book on Asian mythology (their father is out hunting a nest of Kappas he thinks are responsible for a rash of missing children in the area). His guard is down, which is the only reason the man manages to grab him. He drags Dean backwards, towards a van, but the boy was well trained by his father and he’s putting up a fight. He shoves his elbow backwards, momentarily stunning the man, and slips out of his bag, running as fast as his legs will let him.
The man lunges forward, and the two tumble to the ground. Dean is quick, but the man is strong, and the knife has slipped from Dean’s pocket, out of reach.
Castiel tilts his head, and the knife shoots into Dean’s hand. The boy wastes no time, shoving it deep into his aorta.
There’s a spurt of blood, and Dean is moving away, quick as a fox, back towards the motel. He runs inside the room, changes his clothes just in time to meet Sam as he steps off the bus. Moments later, he’s on the phone with Pastor Jim.
Within two hours, they’re gone, no trace of the Winchesters left in the sleepy little town.
The disappearances, Castiel notes with something close to satisfaction, stop.
Two
Castiel watches.
He watches as Dean Winchester pulls up in front of his brother’s house, as Azazel slides the girl onto her bedroom ceiling. He watches the brothers exchange awkward goodbyes as her belly is slit open.
Sam walks into the house while Dean watches, and drives away. Castiel knows his fate. Sam will burn in the house, Dean will be torn apart. With his brother dead and his father missing, he won’t have the strength to continue on.
He cannot save Sam. Sam is not his charge.
Dean is. Dean is everything.
He slips into the front seat of the Impala, brushing a hand over Dean’s shoulder, and leans in. Whispers to him, a subconscious message prickling at the back of his mind.
Go back. Go back now. Back to Sam.
Dean shakes his head, glances in the rear view mirror. His eyebrows draw together and he finds himself jerking the wheel of the car to the left, tires screeching at the sudden change in friction. He runs up the front steps just as the flames begin, licking out the windows and burning as hot as the hell Azazel was born of.
He pulls Sam from the house and changes the future.
Three
Castiel watches.
He watches as Dean Winchester receives a massive jolt of electricity to the heart, his eyes growing wide and his breathing becoming stuttered.
A month to live, the doctors say. Castiel deems this unacceptable. Dean will not die. It’s not his time. He looks around, finds a man of religion in the west. His wife is controlling a reaper, healing people.
It takes no effort to send Sam and Dean in his direction, to get them into his tent. The man is praying, shouting with no voice. Someone else to save. Give him an sign, a direction.
Dean Winchester, Castiel tells him. The heavens command you rescue Dean Winchester.
Someone else has to die in his place. However, given his limited options, Castiel deems this acceptable.
Four
Castiel watches.
He watches as the reaper leads Dean around the hospital, preaching to him about accepting his death. He hasn’t yet realized where this is going, and Castiel closely examines the threads of fate woven around the elder Winchester.
When John summons Azazel, the demon simply laughs and ignores him.
Castiel steps in.
He presents himself before the yellow-eyed demon, wearing the body of an intern who won’t remember a thing when he’s done with her, and makes a deal of his own.
Azazel listens to John’s pleas, allows himself to make the deal that will ultimately save his boys life, and Castiel will give him something great.
A feather, plucked from his own wings. A piece of an angel fetches a high price, and the feather has powerful protective qualities. It will give Azazel an edge, stronger and faster.
Dean lives. Castiel reaches out with the interns hand and brushes his borrowed fingers over his brow, touching his charge for the first time.
Five
Castiel watches.
He watches as Dean denies his existence. Standing in a church, arguing with Sam, fighting him to the bone on his faith in God and His angels.
He has no idea. Castiel feels a fleeting urge to pull on his ear, push him towards the alter. Never before has he felt the urge to show himself so strongly. He feels small twinges in his being.
Dean has no idea, no clue.
The black car’s tires screeched on the pavement as he chased the man. An unrighteous man, who would have hurt that poor girl, left scars on her soul, had Dean not interfered. The spirit of the priest was right, though his methods and direction were wayward. Castiel could find no fault in his judgement.
Dean would catch him. Dean would kill him.
Castiel tilts his head to the side, thoughtful. The pole strikes the frantic man through the heart. He is dead in seconds.
And Dean’s soul, his sense of good and evil, his self, remains pure.
He begins, by a fraction, to believe.
Six
Castiel watches.
He watches in horror as Dean seals his deal with a kiss, his soul now wrapped in red-hot iron chains. Castiel watches, but he can’t do anything.
Azazel blocked him from the truth using a piece of his own self. The boys Winchester have been blocked from his senses for days, and he’s been distracted, occupied by things besides Dean. Uriel has been pondering lately, why he keeps such a close eye on the human, when it isn’t his duty or his purpose.
Castiel would like to know this as well.
Azazel has the gun trained on Dean’s head, and Castiel can’t step in, can’t interfere because now they’re watching him. Watching Dean, with speculative looks and thoughts of planning.
But they’re not watching hell. Castiel reaches in and pulls the soul of John Winchester through the open gate.
John saves his child where Castiel himself cannot.
Seven
Castiel watches, and does not hesitate. He dives in, a graceful swan. Through the clouds, through the earth, into the pits of hell.
Dean is down there, held deep within the fire. Every year Castiel fails to find him, he can feel Dean slipping. He’s been there since Dean was conceived, a small light in his mother’s womb.
Castiel is a soldier. He is not a guardian, or an arc-angel. Until that life began, human existence had meant little to him. They were unnecessary. He did not understand Anna’s fascination with free will and feelings, or what could possibly have compelled her to tear out her grace and fall from heaven to surround herself with the violent, primitive species.
And then Dean began and he found himself wondering.
Dean had no path, when he was only a flicker. Castiel could find no reason to justify his interest. He was not special, not destined. He was only a child, bright and pink and full of life. His forks are lain out for him, and Castiel watches as his path leads further and further off to the side. His mother dies, he is trained to hunt, his father disappears, his brother joins him. Countless adventures, a thousand choices, both insignificant and monumental, shape him into the man Castiel has watched him become.
When he was told Dean was the one who would break the first seal, he did not hesitate. He dove.
Locating Dean takes more than a decade, and by then Castiel is too late. The righteous man has done the work of the devil, has ripped and torn and bled unholy souls with a smile on his face and a crashing song in his heart.
He lays himself against Dean, presses his back to Castiel’s front. Grabs his shoulder and burns the black from his soul, fills in the holes with light and grace and purity. Pulls him, drags him, up and out and back through the path he’s spent a small lifetime clearing away. Plants him back into his body, heals the lacerations and the rot and makes him whole and strong once more.
Dean will know him now. Will see him, speak with him, share with him.
Castiel stops watching.
---
This fic was spawned out of the back of my brain early Thursday morning (very early. It was like 2am and I'd spontaneously decided I was due for a full-series marathon). I was also pretty sick and hopped up on codeine, which is a large factor of blame.
I'm watching the pilot, right? And I have this moment around the end, where I wonder how exactly Dean knew to come back for Sam, because we know if he hadn't, Sam would have been dead. Deader than dead. Completely fried.
I start thinking, what could have been the cause. And, being a huge Castiel/Misha fan (I'd seen him in person the Saturday previous in Vancouver and man, he was everything I dreamed of and more), I think. Maybe it was Cas. Except, these little moments kept happening. Tiny, insignificant scenes where Dean survives or gets there in the nick of time that have no explanation. So I start writing tidbits as I watch each episode (three complete seasons in five days - And I had to go to work!), work them into a fic, and bam! We have a bit of stalker Cas.
So I hope you enjoyed, because I had a blast writing it. Of course, now I've convinced myself Cas was around the entire time, so my view of Seasons 1-3 are complete skewed. Slave to my verses, I am.
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean/Cas pre-slash
You know who else had faith like that? Mom. She used to tell me when she tucked me in that angels were watching over me. She was wrong. - Dean Winchester, 2x13 “Houses of the Holy”
One
Castiel watches.
He watches the small boy as he ushers his brother off to school, before grabbing his own bag and a small knife off the table. The younger catches a bus outside, with the older walking along the damp sidewalk outside the motel they’re staying at.
The child looks at his feet as he heads out, hands shoved in his pockets, one playing with the blade he’s easily concealed on his person.
Castiel watches as someone watches Dean.
An older man, with thinning hair and simple features is hiding behind a tree, his eyes trained on the boy. He’s paying no attention, classmates joining his path as they get closer to the building.
The day is uneventful.
Dean walks home, his nose shoved in a book on Asian mythology (their father is out hunting a nest of Kappas he thinks are responsible for a rash of missing children in the area). His guard is down, which is the only reason the man manages to grab him. He drags Dean backwards, towards a van, but the boy was well trained by his father and he’s putting up a fight. He shoves his elbow backwards, momentarily stunning the man, and slips out of his bag, running as fast as his legs will let him.
The man lunges forward, and the two tumble to the ground. Dean is quick, but the man is strong, and the knife has slipped from Dean’s pocket, out of reach.
Castiel tilts his head, and the knife shoots into Dean’s hand. The boy wastes no time, shoving it deep into his aorta.
There’s a spurt of blood, and Dean is moving away, quick as a fox, back towards the motel. He runs inside the room, changes his clothes just in time to meet Sam as he steps off the bus. Moments later, he’s on the phone with Pastor Jim.
Within two hours, they’re gone, no trace of the Winchesters left in the sleepy little town.
The disappearances, Castiel notes with something close to satisfaction, stop.
Two
Castiel watches.
He watches as Dean Winchester pulls up in front of his brother’s house, as Azazel slides the girl onto her bedroom ceiling. He watches the brothers exchange awkward goodbyes as her belly is slit open.
Sam walks into the house while Dean watches, and drives away. Castiel knows his fate. Sam will burn in the house, Dean will be torn apart. With his brother dead and his father missing, he won’t have the strength to continue on.
He cannot save Sam. Sam is not his charge.
Dean is. Dean is everything.
He slips into the front seat of the Impala, brushing a hand over Dean’s shoulder, and leans in. Whispers to him, a subconscious message prickling at the back of his mind.
Go back. Go back now. Back to Sam.
Dean shakes his head, glances in the rear view mirror. His eyebrows draw together and he finds himself jerking the wheel of the car to the left, tires screeching at the sudden change in friction. He runs up the front steps just as the flames begin, licking out the windows and burning as hot as the hell Azazel was born of.
He pulls Sam from the house and changes the future.
Three
Castiel watches.
He watches as Dean Winchester receives a massive jolt of electricity to the heart, his eyes growing wide and his breathing becoming stuttered.
A month to live, the doctors say. Castiel deems this unacceptable. Dean will not die. It’s not his time. He looks around, finds a man of religion in the west. His wife is controlling a reaper, healing people.
It takes no effort to send Sam and Dean in his direction, to get them into his tent. The man is praying, shouting with no voice. Someone else to save. Give him an sign, a direction.
Dean Winchester, Castiel tells him. The heavens command you rescue Dean Winchester.
Someone else has to die in his place. However, given his limited options, Castiel deems this acceptable.
Four
Castiel watches.
He watches as the reaper leads Dean around the hospital, preaching to him about accepting his death. He hasn’t yet realized where this is going, and Castiel closely examines the threads of fate woven around the elder Winchester.
When John summons Azazel, the demon simply laughs and ignores him.
Castiel steps in.
He presents himself before the yellow-eyed demon, wearing the body of an intern who won’t remember a thing when he’s done with her, and makes a deal of his own.
Azazel listens to John’s pleas, allows himself to make the deal that will ultimately save his boys life, and Castiel will give him something great.
A feather, plucked from his own wings. A piece of an angel fetches a high price, and the feather has powerful protective qualities. It will give Azazel an edge, stronger and faster.
Dean lives. Castiel reaches out with the interns hand and brushes his borrowed fingers over his brow, touching his charge for the first time.
Five
Castiel watches.
He watches as Dean denies his existence. Standing in a church, arguing with Sam, fighting him to the bone on his faith in God and His angels.
He has no idea. Castiel feels a fleeting urge to pull on his ear, push him towards the alter. Never before has he felt the urge to show himself so strongly. He feels small twinges in his being.
Dean has no idea, no clue.
The black car’s tires screeched on the pavement as he chased the man. An unrighteous man, who would have hurt that poor girl, left scars on her soul, had Dean not interfered. The spirit of the priest was right, though his methods and direction were wayward. Castiel could find no fault in his judgement.
Dean would catch him. Dean would kill him.
Castiel tilts his head to the side, thoughtful. The pole strikes the frantic man through the heart. He is dead in seconds.
And Dean’s soul, his sense of good and evil, his self, remains pure.
He begins, by a fraction, to believe.
Six
Castiel watches.
He watches in horror as Dean seals his deal with a kiss, his soul now wrapped in red-hot iron chains. Castiel watches, but he can’t do anything.
Azazel blocked him from the truth using a piece of his own self. The boys Winchester have been blocked from his senses for days, and he’s been distracted, occupied by things besides Dean. Uriel has been pondering lately, why he keeps such a close eye on the human, when it isn’t his duty or his purpose.
Castiel would like to know this as well.
Azazel has the gun trained on Dean’s head, and Castiel can’t step in, can’t interfere because now they’re watching him. Watching Dean, with speculative looks and thoughts of planning.
But they’re not watching hell. Castiel reaches in and pulls the soul of John Winchester through the open gate.
John saves his child where Castiel himself cannot.
Seven
Castiel watches, and does not hesitate. He dives in, a graceful swan. Through the clouds, through the earth, into the pits of hell.
Dean is down there, held deep within the fire. Every year Castiel fails to find him, he can feel Dean slipping. He’s been there since Dean was conceived, a small light in his mother’s womb.
Castiel is a soldier. He is not a guardian, or an arc-angel. Until that life began, human existence had meant little to him. They were unnecessary. He did not understand Anna’s fascination with free will and feelings, or what could possibly have compelled her to tear out her grace and fall from heaven to surround herself with the violent, primitive species.
And then Dean began and he found himself wondering.
Dean had no path, when he was only a flicker. Castiel could find no reason to justify his interest. He was not special, not destined. He was only a child, bright and pink and full of life. His forks are lain out for him, and Castiel watches as his path leads further and further off to the side. His mother dies, he is trained to hunt, his father disappears, his brother joins him. Countless adventures, a thousand choices, both insignificant and monumental, shape him into the man Castiel has watched him become.
When he was told Dean was the one who would break the first seal, he did not hesitate. He dove.
Locating Dean takes more than a decade, and by then Castiel is too late. The righteous man has done the work of the devil, has ripped and torn and bled unholy souls with a smile on his face and a crashing song in his heart.
He lays himself against Dean, presses his back to Castiel’s front. Grabs his shoulder and burns the black from his soul, fills in the holes with light and grace and purity. Pulls him, drags him, up and out and back through the path he’s spent a small lifetime clearing away. Plants him back into his body, heals the lacerations and the rot and makes him whole and strong once more.
Dean will know him now. Will see him, speak with him, share with him.
Castiel stops watching.
---
This fic was spawned out of the back of my brain early Thursday morning (very early. It was like 2am and I'd spontaneously decided I was due for a full-series marathon). I was also pretty sick and hopped up on codeine, which is a large factor of blame.
I'm watching the pilot, right? And I have this moment around the end, where I wonder how exactly Dean knew to come back for Sam, because we know if he hadn't, Sam would have been dead. Deader than dead. Completely fried.
I start thinking, what could have been the cause. And, being a huge Castiel/Misha fan (I'd seen him in person the Saturday previous in Vancouver and man, he was everything I dreamed of and more), I think. Maybe it was Cas. Except, these little moments kept happening. Tiny, insignificant scenes where Dean survives or gets there in the nick of time that have no explanation. So I start writing tidbits as I watch each episode (three complete seasons in five days - And I had to go to work!), work them into a fic, and bam! We have a bit of stalker Cas.
So I hope you enjoyed, because I had a blast writing it. Of course, now I've convinced myself Cas was around the entire time, so my view of Seasons 1-3 are complete skewed. Slave to my verses, I am.