[SPN] be(LIE)ve
Title: be(LIE)ve
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Castiel
Warning: None that I can think of, besides weird writing thing.
Notes: Just a random drabble thing that I whipped up out from nowhere. It makes little to no sense, but eh. Anyway, set during 6.22 during whenever Cas is actually performing the ritual off-screen.
be(LIE)ve
drabble, 631 words
He conducts the ritual in a place far, far away from where Crowley and Raphael would do theirs, far away from where Bobby and the Winchesters will go after him-far away from Dean, who Castiel thinks he cannot bear to see again, at least not until he has proven that he is right.
The place he is at is old, decrepit; there is nothing but death and silence around him, but Castiel ignores it all in favour of concentrating on his task. The place is dark as Castiel steps up to the wall, but the darkness has never been a problem for Castiel-he is an angel, after all. Darkness does not affect him in the way it does to humans-to Dean.
He selects a spot on the wall, half-visible by moonlight, and starts on his task. Castiel raises one hand and stretches out two fingers coated with Eleanor Visyak’s blood, pressing them against the half-peeled surface but doesn’t start moving just yet. For a moment, the angel stops as memories and words come flooding back to him, recalling of the two-three-years spent with the Winchesters, with Dean. A human’s lifespan is nothing at all to him, let alone two years, but yet despite that…
Castiel remembers the disappointment flashing across Dean’s face, the hurt that shone through Dean’s eyes. He recalls how Dean asked him to turn back and put a stop to his business with Crowley, and how even though he had trusted Dean with everything the human couldn’t do the same to him. Dean only sees the surface, only sees what he wants to see and hear. He does not see what Castiel is trying to do, to have to fight this battle alone and for Dean because this is for him, just as everything has always been for him-going against Heaven, ending the Apocalypse, stopping Raphael-everything. Dean, Dean, Dean; everything is all for Dean, but yet Dean can never seem to understand at all.
The angel shakes his head at that thought, refocusing himself as he starts to move his hand, blood smearing across the surface of the wall as Castiel starts drawing out the sigil needed to open Purgatory. Deep inside, he knows that every stroke is another step closer to damnation, every line signifying him taking a step away from the Winchesters-from Dean. Castiel knows that it is likely that Dean will never understand that this is for him, but now it doesn’t matter any longer. This is no longer about Dean; this is about him, and Dean no longer has any part to play in this.
Castiel tells himself that as he finishes painting the sigil and starts the incantation, vaguely hearing the echoes of his voice bouncing across the silence of the room. When he finishes the last words he remains unblinking at the flare of light that starts to grow and expand from the middle of the sigil, the wall crumbling from within as Purgatory opens under his call and Castiel can hear the collective roar of tens and hundreds and thousands and millions of souls starting to rush out from Purgatory and come to his sway.
After this, he will go to Crowley and Raphael, and he will do what he needs to do with them. And once that is over, they will know that he has always been the victor. After this, they will know that he has always been correct. After this, they will understand that everything has always been for the greater good. After this they will know, and Dean will finally see the error of his ways.
This is what Castiel believes in, and once he has the souls-he will show them how his belief has always been right.
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Castiel
Warning: None that I can think of, besides weird writing thing.
Notes: Just a random drabble thing that I whipped up out from nowhere. It makes little to no sense, but eh. Anyway, set during 6.22 during whenever Cas is actually performing the ritual off-screen.
be(LIE)ve
drabble, 631 words
He conducts the ritual in a place far, far away from where Crowley and Raphael would do theirs, far away from where Bobby and the Winchesters will go after him-far away from Dean, who Castiel thinks he cannot bear to see again, at least not until he has proven that he is right.
The place he is at is old, decrepit; there is nothing but death and silence around him, but Castiel ignores it all in favour of concentrating on his task. The place is dark as Castiel steps up to the wall, but the darkness has never been a problem for Castiel-he is an angel, after all. Darkness does not affect him in the way it does to humans-to Dean.
He selects a spot on the wall, half-visible by moonlight, and starts on his task. Castiel raises one hand and stretches out two fingers coated with Eleanor Visyak’s blood, pressing them against the half-peeled surface but doesn’t start moving just yet. For a moment, the angel stops as memories and words come flooding back to him, recalling of the two-three-years spent with the Winchesters, with Dean. A human’s lifespan is nothing at all to him, let alone two years, but yet despite that…
Castiel remembers the disappointment flashing across Dean’s face, the hurt that shone through Dean’s eyes. He recalls how Dean asked him to turn back and put a stop to his business with Crowley, and how even though he had trusted Dean with everything the human couldn’t do the same to him. Dean only sees the surface, only sees what he wants to see and hear. He does not see what Castiel is trying to do, to have to fight this battle alone and for Dean because this is for him, just as everything has always been for him-going against Heaven, ending the Apocalypse, stopping Raphael-everything. Dean, Dean, Dean; everything is all for Dean, but yet Dean can never seem to understand at all.
The angel shakes his head at that thought, refocusing himself as he starts to move his hand, blood smearing across the surface of the wall as Castiel starts drawing out the sigil needed to open Purgatory. Deep inside, he knows that every stroke is another step closer to damnation, every line signifying him taking a step away from the Winchesters-from Dean. Castiel knows that it is likely that Dean will never understand that this is for him, but now it doesn’t matter any longer. This is no longer about Dean; this is about him, and Dean no longer has any part to play in this.
Castiel tells himself that as he finishes painting the sigil and starts the incantation, vaguely hearing the echoes of his voice bouncing across the silence of the room. When he finishes the last words he remains unblinking at the flare of light that starts to grow and expand from the middle of the sigil, the wall crumbling from within as Purgatory opens under his call and Castiel can hear the collective roar of tens and hundreds and thousands and millions of souls starting to rush out from Purgatory and come to his sway.
After this, he will go to Crowley and Raphael, and he will do what he needs to do with them. And once that is over, they will know that he has always been the victor. After this, they will know that he has always been correct. After this, they will understand that everything has always been for the greater good. After this they will know, and Dean will finally see the error of his ways.
This is what Castiel believes in, and once he has the souls-he will show them how his belief has always been right.