[FIC] Intercalate
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: 4.01
Warnings: mild violence
Word Count: ~670
Summary: Dean Winchester meets Castiel for the first time, again.
A/N: My short submission to the Dean/Cas Manifesto for the 4.01 weekly challenge. There is no beta, only Zuul. Creative abuse of punctuation.
He shares a worried look with Bobby as they both lower their firearms, which are apparently useless against whatever is striding toward them with such intent. The two back away from each other, and silently acknowledge that surrounding their adversary is their best course of action. Dean grabs Ruby’s knife as the monster confidently steps between the pair of hunters. As he thinks about it, Dean wonders if this creature is even cognizant of Bobby’s existence. He can feel the presence behind the eyes watching him; not once, since the lights began exploding, have they left his face. Dean dreads looking up; fears the demanding pull to do so, but he yields. Kind of hard to kill something without looking at it - he knows this from personal experience.
He rounds on the rock salt-ridden creature and zeros in as it tries to eyeball holes into his soul. As Dean’s glare collides with the disturbingly actinic stare of the monster before him, he feels an electric jolt course through him. His skin tingles in it’s wake as the spark settles comfortably against the mark on his shoulder. Dean tries to ignore it, knows that he should question how natural it feels. Instead, he asks, “Who are you?”
He’s the one who-
“-gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition,” it says.
Something in his brain clicks back into alignment, something he hadn’t known was out of place. A part of him recognizes the being in front of him-
Castiel.
-wants to reach out and curl into him.
“Yeah,” Dean says, unable to mask the sincerity. “Thanks for that.”
It- he? nods in return. A warm, honest smile tilts the corners of his - Castiel’s - mouth.
That expression causes a memory to skitter along the edge of Dean’s thoughts. He tries to grab it, to haul it out and remember. Instead, a rush of emotions spill forth: affection, kindness, sympathy … love. It’s overwhelming, and with nothing to attach those feelings to, terrifying.
From the edge of his peripheral vision he sees Bobby shake his head in warning. Of course, Dean doesn’t heed that warning, and he plunges the blade into the creature’s heart.
It - Castiel! - sways with the force of the blow. The warmth drains from the smile; it shifts, becomes unreadable and archaic. It - …name is Castiel! - glances down at the knife protruding from his chest. The slightest hint of disappointment flashes in his otherwise impassive blue eyes, and the only reaction at all to the fact that he has been stabbed comes when he pulls the knife out with one quick jerk. It slides out of his flesh with an obscene shnickt. He emphatically releases the handle, and it clatters about on the concrete floor.
Driving a knife into the chest of just about anything should at least slow it down - Dean looks to Bobby for back-up. The older hunter looks just as bewildered as Dean feels, but he hauls the crowbar back anyway and takes a swing at the monster.
Pressing his lips together in dismay, he - It’s Castiel! Castiel! - does not look away from Dean, does not flinch, just reaches back to grab the lever mid-swing. A swift turn redirects their energy, and he’s pressing two fingers to Bobby’s forehead. Bobby crumples to the ground.
Dean watches the creature - How many times do I have to remind you? It’s Castiel! - as he wheels around to face him once more. As their eyes meet, the connection is made again, and Dean feels as if he’s just seized a live wire without first grounding himself.
“We need to talk, Dean. Alone.”
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: 4.01
Warnings: mild violence
Word Count: ~670
Summary: Dean Winchester meets Castiel for the first time, again.
A/N: My short submission to the Dean/Cas Manifesto for the 4.01 weekly challenge. There is no beta, only Zuul. Creative abuse of punctuation.
He shares a worried look with Bobby as they both lower their firearms, which are apparently useless against whatever is striding toward them with such intent. The two back away from each other, and silently acknowledge that surrounding their adversary is their best course of action. Dean grabs Ruby’s knife as the monster confidently steps between the pair of hunters. As he thinks about it, Dean wonders if this creature is even cognizant of Bobby’s existence. He can feel the presence behind the eyes watching him; not once, since the lights began exploding, have they left his face. Dean dreads looking up; fears the demanding pull to do so, but he yields. Kind of hard to kill something without looking at it - he knows this from personal experience.
He rounds on the rock salt-ridden creature and zeros in as it tries to eyeball holes into his soul. As Dean’s glare collides with the disturbingly actinic stare of the monster before him, he feels an electric jolt course through him. His skin tingles in it’s wake as the spark settles comfortably against the mark on his shoulder. Dean tries to ignore it, knows that he should question how natural it feels. Instead, he asks, “Who are you?”
He’s the one who-
“-gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition,” it says.
Something in his brain clicks back into alignment, something he hadn’t known was out of place. A part of him recognizes the being in front of him-
Castiel.
-wants to reach out and curl into him.
“Yeah,” Dean says, unable to mask the sincerity. “Thanks for that.”
It- he? nods in return. A warm, honest smile tilts the corners of his - Castiel’s - mouth.
That expression causes a memory to skitter along the edge of Dean’s thoughts. He tries to grab it, to haul it out and remember. Instead, a rush of emotions spill forth: affection, kindness, sympathy … love. It’s overwhelming, and with nothing to attach those feelings to, terrifying.
From the edge of his peripheral vision he sees Bobby shake his head in warning. Of course, Dean doesn’t heed that warning, and he plunges the blade into the creature’s heart.
It - Castiel! - sways with the force of the blow. The warmth drains from the smile; it shifts, becomes unreadable and archaic. It - …name is Castiel! - glances down at the knife protruding from his chest. The slightest hint of disappointment flashes in his otherwise impassive blue eyes, and the only reaction at all to the fact that he has been stabbed comes when he pulls the knife out with one quick jerk. It slides out of his flesh with an obscene shnickt. He emphatically releases the handle, and it clatters about on the concrete floor.
Driving a knife into the chest of just about anything should at least slow it down - Dean looks to Bobby for back-up. The older hunter looks just as bewildered as Dean feels, but he hauls the crowbar back anyway and takes a swing at the monster.
Pressing his lips together in dismay, he - It’s Castiel! Castiel! - does not look away from Dean, does not flinch, just reaches back to grab the lever mid-swing. A swift turn redirects their energy, and he’s pressing two fingers to Bobby’s forehead. Bobby crumples to the ground.
Dean watches the creature - How many times do I have to remind you? It’s Castiel! - as he wheels around to face him once more. As their eyes meet, the connection is made again, and Dean feels as if he’s just seized a live wire without first grounding himself.
“We need to talk, Dean. Alone.”