Fic: Untitled Dean & Cas (SPN)
TITLE: Untitled Dean & Cas
FANDOM: Supernatural
RATING: PG (GEN)
WORDCOUNT: 700-
CHARACTERS: Dean, Cas, peripheral Bobby
SPOILERS: for 6.09
NOTES: For love_jackianto, who requested Dean/Cas to go along with this old epic promo. This is what immediately popped in my mind. I'm sorry it's so late in the coming, but I hope the unexpectedness of actually receiving it will cheer you ;-)
“So, have you got The Sight now?”
Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. He’d phoned Bobby to tell him about getting abducted by freaking faeries, he’d cracked centuries of mysterious disappearances, uncovered UFOs as a supernatural scam, and all he got was a few noncommittal ‘huh’s and a dry question about seeing things.
“No, Bobby. I’m alone. And I hope they never show up again: lived all my life without even knowing they existed, can happily go back to ignoring them.”
“You didn’t know because you couldn’t see them, ya idjit, but now that you’ve broken through the veil, so to speak, it’s done: lore says you have ‘the sight’.”
Dean shivered. Bobby’s words reminded him uncomfortably of the few hours he spent running before the hellhounds caught up with him and...
“I don’t see demons,” Dean blurted. Bobby was silent on the other end, so he continued. “After coming back from Hell I thought... but I don’t. Maybe this goes away too?”
He heard Bobby heaving a big sigh. “I don’t know. Can’t rightly say I’ve ever met- hell, ever heard- of someone with your baggage of experiences, boy. Just don’t be surprised if you see through faerie glamour from now on and you see more of the things running about; and for all that’s holy, don’t attack them unless you have to! Most of the time they’re probably minding their own business, picking fights with ‘em is what you might call unwise.”
Dean glanced around nervously, but he was still very much alone.
“Whatever. Great. See you ‘round, Bobby.” He hung up without waiting for a reply and got himself two fingers of whisky.
For no reason that he could see he shivered again. The idea of randomly bumping into more faeries... and what the hell counted as glamour anyway? Was he going to start seeing other things, besides creatures? Was he going to go mad?
He shook his head to clear it and went right up to the window to look out. The parking lot in front of the motel was blessedly normal: a shifty-looking guy who had been selling dope since the night before, a travelling salesman who was struggling to load his trunk with his wares, and a woman fussing with the engine of her truck.
“Cas,” he called, not really expecting a reply, “have you ever dealt with faeries?”
He wondered if ‘the sight’ extended to demons; he didn’t want to see demons again. Sure, it could come in handy, but he’d really rather not. Maybe he could try calling Cas on the phone, get some answers, not that the angel seemed to be on the grid anymore.
‘Course, if he could see demons, maybe he could see angels too. That would be pretty neat, getting to see what angels really looked like under the human mask.
Dean closed his eyes, tried to imagine Cas, remembered the first time they met and that terrifying glimpse of shadowy wings. Maybe next time the angel bothered to show up Dean would see the actual things, flapping as he arrives and folding neatly on his back as he stands around being cryptic and staring.
Then, unbidden, his thoughts shifted to Pamela, and what had happened to her when she glimpsed Cas’ true form. He grimaced, his eyes flying open and back to the present.
“No, I haven’t,” Dean heard almost simultaneously to the soft sound of feathers and the curtains rustling with the air displacement. Castiel was walking towards him, holding his sword and looking frazzled. “Why? Are they joining the war?”
It took a moment for Dean to shut his gaping mouth and get out a “no, they’re staying out of it”. Not only he really hadn’t expected a visit, but he was wrenched out of his fantasy by a Cas who still looked as he always did lately: human, tightly wound and impatient, with an undercurrent of power that was more of a skin feeling than anything visual.
Castiel pursed his lips and vanished without another word; Dean sat down with his answer and his bottle, and waited for Sam to come back with their breakfast.
END NOTE: Still Unspoiled (mostly) and proud. See me paddling up that river in Egypt until I finish all my fic commitments with regards to season seven: I haven't seen any of the new episodes yet, and I look forward to do so still unspoiled so pretty please, don't mention anything from it in the comments, ok? Thanks.
FANDOM: Supernatural
RATING: PG (GEN)
WORDCOUNT: 700-
CHARACTERS: Dean, Cas, peripheral Bobby
SPOILERS: for 6.09
NOTES: For love_jackianto, who requested Dean/Cas to go along with this old epic promo. This is what immediately popped in my mind. I'm sorry it's so late in the coming, but I hope the unexpectedness of actually receiving it will cheer you ;-)
“So, have you got The Sight now?”
Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. He’d phoned Bobby to tell him about getting abducted by freaking faeries, he’d cracked centuries of mysterious disappearances, uncovered UFOs as a supernatural scam, and all he got was a few noncommittal ‘huh’s and a dry question about seeing things.
“No, Bobby. I’m alone. And I hope they never show up again: lived all my life without even knowing they existed, can happily go back to ignoring them.”
“You didn’t know because you couldn’t see them, ya idjit, but now that you’ve broken through the veil, so to speak, it’s done: lore says you have ‘the sight’.”
Dean shivered. Bobby’s words reminded him uncomfortably of the few hours he spent running before the hellhounds caught up with him and...
“I don’t see demons,” Dean blurted. Bobby was silent on the other end, so he continued. “After coming back from Hell I thought... but I don’t. Maybe this goes away too?”
He heard Bobby heaving a big sigh. “I don’t know. Can’t rightly say I’ve ever met- hell, ever heard- of someone with your baggage of experiences, boy. Just don’t be surprised if you see through faerie glamour from now on and you see more of the things running about; and for all that’s holy, don’t attack them unless you have to! Most of the time they’re probably minding their own business, picking fights with ‘em is what you might call unwise.”
Dean glanced around nervously, but he was still very much alone.
“Whatever. Great. See you ‘round, Bobby.” He hung up without waiting for a reply and got himself two fingers of whisky.
For no reason that he could see he shivered again. The idea of randomly bumping into more faeries... and what the hell counted as glamour anyway? Was he going to start seeing other things, besides creatures? Was he going to go mad?
He shook his head to clear it and went right up to the window to look out. The parking lot in front of the motel was blessedly normal: a shifty-looking guy who had been selling dope since the night before, a travelling salesman who was struggling to load his trunk with his wares, and a woman fussing with the engine of her truck.
“Cas,” he called, not really expecting a reply, “have you ever dealt with faeries?”
He wondered if ‘the sight’ extended to demons; he didn’t want to see demons again. Sure, it could come in handy, but he’d really rather not. Maybe he could try calling Cas on the phone, get some answers, not that the angel seemed to be on the grid anymore.
‘Course, if he could see demons, maybe he could see angels too. That would be pretty neat, getting to see what angels really looked like under the human mask.
Dean closed his eyes, tried to imagine Cas, remembered the first time they met and that terrifying glimpse of shadowy wings. Maybe next time the angel bothered to show up Dean would see the actual things, flapping as he arrives and folding neatly on his back as he stands around being cryptic and staring.
Then, unbidden, his thoughts shifted to Pamela, and what had happened to her when she glimpsed Cas’ true form. He grimaced, his eyes flying open and back to the present.
“No, I haven’t,” Dean heard almost simultaneously to the soft sound of feathers and the curtains rustling with the air displacement. Castiel was walking towards him, holding his sword and looking frazzled. “Why? Are they joining the war?”
It took a moment for Dean to shut his gaping mouth and get out a “no, they’re staying out of it”. Not only he really hadn’t expected a visit, but he was wrenched out of his fantasy by a Cas who still looked as he always did lately: human, tightly wound and impatient, with an undercurrent of power that was more of a skin feeling than anything visual.
Castiel pursed his lips and vanished without another word; Dean sat down with his answer and his bottle, and waited for Sam to come back with their breakfast.
END NOTE: Still Unspoiled (mostly) and proud. See me paddling up that river in Egypt until I finish all my fic commitments with regards to season seven: I haven't seen any of the new episodes yet, and I look forward to do so still unspoiled so pretty please, don't mention anything from it in the comments, ok? Thanks.