Big Bang Fic: Oadriax (3/13)
Title: Oadriax (3/13)
Author: daksgirl
Artist: terrorinyertub
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural, au, sci fi, drama
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Side pairings: Sam/Gabriel, past Sam/Jess
Rating: NC-17 (violence, adult situations, language)
Word Count: 80,668
Warnings: Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.
[Fic Masterpost]
[Art Masterpost]
The twin suns were already high in the endless blue sky when the helicraft finally took off.
Dean sat by the turret, gun metal warm under his hands as he dangled his legs out the open door. A thick strap kept him secured even as the warm breeze ruffled through the helicraft, and he relaxed a little, relishing the feeling of real air against his face. He didn’t mind this kind of flying, where he could see the lush green forests of Oadriax beneath and sky above. His throat was still tight, bruised inside, and the cool air felt nice as he breathed in and out.
They passed over a clear blue body of water and a flock of birds took flight, squawking up at the craft angrily. The sun danced off their bright purple plumage, two sets of leather wings moving independently from one another as they flapped towards safer waters. Sam grinned, leaning over Dean with his camera, squinting in the bright sun.
“Oh my god! This is…this is amazing!”
The wind snatched Sam's breathless shout away, his long hair whipping in all directions. With a roll of his eyes, Dean hooked his fingers into the waistband of Sam’s jeans, making sure his little brother wasn’t about to take a nosedive into infinity. The giant dork had been like a hyperactive kid while they were getting ready, and Dean hadn’t the heart to confide in him about the Colonel or creepy demons. Let the kid have his fun. Dean was a big boy and could deal with his own problems.
Safely strapped into his own seat, Bobby watched the two amusedly. The scientist had left his lab coat back at the base, choosing instead a more comfortable t-shirt and jeans. A tattered baseball cap was smashed low on his head and the scientist tugged it lower over his eyes with a wry chuckle.
The trees they passed were ancient, far larger than any tree found on Earth, towering high above them like colossal giants. The blades of the helicraft shook their branches and leaves, swirling the humid mist that rose from the plants below.
Sam finally allowed himself to be pulled back into the helicraft, sitting down with a smile that practically split his face in two.
Ruby flicked a few switches, glancing back towards Dean. “Hold on, we’re landing!”
There were a few tense moments where Dean was sure they were going to crash into a tree, but the demon got them down intact.
As soon as the wheels hit the ground, Dean was out and scanning the area for hostiles, gun sweeping in a wide arc. Ruby had chosen a relatively clear thicket, probably the only open spot in an otherwise impenetrable canopy of trees.
After a quick survey of the area, Dean nodded towards Ruby, who killed the engines. The engines died down with a whine and as they stilled completely, the forest came alive once again.
The air thickened with the calls of birds and insects humming. Wet heat pressed in around them as bright flowers splashed with red and purples winked out at them from the safety of the tall grasses.
Sam fell out of the helicraft in a mess of overeager limbs. Bobby hopped down more gracefully, shooting an affectionate smile towards the awed xenobiologist. The nerd was overwhelmed, turning in a huge circle as he gazed up at the huge trees, eyes wide and disbelieving. With a chuckle, Bobby clapped him on the shoulder.
“Come on, kid. Lots more to see.”
Bobby led the way, Dean close behind as he scanned the plants around them. Long grass trailed against his thighs as he moved, vines snagging his boots. Something rustled in the canopy overhead, and Dean wasted no time, swinging his rifle around and aiming.
A lemur-like creature stared back, huge brown eyes curious as it cocked its head at him. With a sigh, Bobby turned to fix Dean in a glare.
“Itchy trigger-finger there, son?”
The monkey thing chattered loudly, swinging its way back into the safety of the forest. Dean lowered his gun sheepishly.
“Sorry, sir. Just keeping alert.”
Sam was still staring up at the huge trees around them, bag slung haphazardly across one shoulder. Dean reached out to pull him along, pushing him none-too gently towards Bobby.
“How will they know we’re here?” Sam blinked, finally paying attention to where he was walking. “The angels I mean.”
Bobby shrugged, picking his way through the tall grass. An insect latched onto his leg and he flicked it away dismissively. “Probably watching us right now.”
Dean scanned the trees around them, half expecting to hear the rustle of feathers. For a moment, he thought he saw a dark shadow flit between the ferns, but then it was gone.
Unnerved, he quickly followed after Bobby.
God but science was boring.
Dean watched over the scientists absently, rifle held loosely in his hands as he leant against the rough thick bark of a tree. Sam was crouched low over one of the huge tree trunks. Bobby settled beside him. From Dean’s spot, it looked like they were just poking the tree.
Sam blew his hair out of his eyes, smiling as he continued to poke the root with what Dean thought was just another stick. “Wow, it’s that fast?”
Bobby nodded proudly, pushing his baseball cap back to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Yep. It’s that fast. Amazin’ isn’t it? Now, if you just grab the transduc-”
With a roll of his eyes, Dean turned away from the geek fest, letting their voices fade into a steady murmur behind him. The area seemed safe enough, no reason he couldn’t check out the local nature himself.
He hummed to himself as he slowly moved around the tree trunk, one hand trailing against the rough bark. An insect bumped into his cheek, plump and lazy in the mid-day heat. He swatted at it half-heartedly, and it cheerfully hummed back at him, flying drunken cart loops away into the surrounding vegetation.
It took him a good few minutes to get fully around the massive tree trunk and as he pushed through a thick wall of fern, he gawked in surprise at the new life he had found.
“Oh wow.”
A small waist high forest of fungus-like plants spread before him. Slinging the rifle across his back, Dean approached them, smiling. Like weird exotic mushrooms, they rose from thick stalks in the ground, into a broad cap. Their skin was pink and velvety looking, and as Dean approached, the plants shivered as if aware of his presence among them. Curious, he reached out to touch one.
The pad of his finger had barely brushed it, but the plant suddenly reacted, retracting itself into the ground quickly with a loud ‘thunk’. Surprised, Dean took a step back, jostling another one which set off a chain reaction, all the plants disappearing with a dull hollow sound.
“Woah,” Dean grinned. “Never seen a….oh crap.”
What he had mistaken for a big rock behind the mushrooms, moved.
Disgruntled its nap had been disturbed, the animal rose to its full height, snorting angrily. A solid grey wall of muscle with two black beady eyes, it turned its beefy head to fix the human in a grumpy glare. Dean scrambled to swing his rifle around, and the creature trumpeted at the sound, the ground quaking where it stamped its thick feet.
Rhino. Dean thought dumbly. How do you take down a rhino?
The grasses to Dean’s right rustled, and Bobby tripped into view, slinging his arm out to stop Sam from toppling forward.
“Don’t shoot!” the scientist hissed, eyes wide. “Don’t shoot, you’ll just piss ‘im off.”
Dean watched the creature as it did a half charge forward, bright feathers aggressively flared along the crest of its head.
“It’s already pissed off!” he snapped back, palms sweaty and heart racing. “Not much more pissed it can get!”
Bobby shot him a clear you’re-an-idiot-and-you’re-going-to-die, look. “It’s a territorial display. Just, stand your ground.”
The creature trumpeted again, feathers fluttering angrily as it scraped one massive foot against the damp grass.
“Well great, what should I do?” Dean demanded, voice hitching. “Dance with it?”
“Try a waltz,” Sam suggested, and Dean had to stop himself from throwing the gun at his brother’s head.
Before he could seriously contemplate that course of action however, the rhino was on the move, barreling towards him and trampling the grass in its wake. He was going to be a Dean-shaped pancake in the next ten seconds.
Here lies Dean Winchester, stupid bastard got trampled by a rhino, serves him right.
Fuck that. He had to make Sam pay for that whole dancing comment.
Flinging his arms up, Dean took a few steps forward, shouting hoarsely. The rhino drew up just short of flattening him completely, slowly backing up with distressed snorts.
“Ha!” Dean shot a grin towards his brother. “I’m a regular Dr. Doolittle!”
But Sam wasn’t paying attention to him, eyes focused somewhere just beyond him. Bobby looked pale, mouth opening and closing as he shakily pointed behind Dean. A quick glance behind him revealed another creature. Something big with teeth.
Lots and lots of teeth.
Dean stood perfectly still, rifle creaking in his hands.
“Run?” he whispered loudly, and his heart sank as Bobby nodded once sharply.
“Run. Definitely run.”
Let’s go to Oadriax, Sam said. It’ll be fun, Sam said.
Grasses slapped against his legs as Dean ran, lungs burning as he ducked through dense trees and tore through thickets of ferns. Small creatures went scattering in all directions in front of him, hoots of alarm ringing through the treetops. The cat-like thing barreled after him, batting branches and plants out of its way like it was just a game, and Dean was the squeaking mouse. It was all corded muscle and teeth, and it wanted him as dinner.
A fallen tree trunk blocked his path up ahead, and Dean took a deep breath, trying to blink the sweat from his eyes. He sprinted towards it, everything around him just a green blur as he slapped his free hand down onto the rough bark. Using the momentum, he managed to vault over the dead tree, feeling air whistle mere inches from his back as the creature slammed one thick paw down. A talon caught in the cuff of his pants; the material ripped away easily.
Dean shouted encouragement at his legs to move faster.
Something caught his ankle and he went down hard, face planting into a mushroom that helpfully spewed gunk at him. The rifle went clattering away, and luckily the cat thing went after it, drawn by the shiny metal. Hurriedly rubbing his eyes clear of warm and sticky mushroom gunk, Dean scrambled to all fours, ready to make another mad dash into the undergrowth.
A massive tree loomed above him to his right. Its roots had eroded away the soil and now formed an ancient scraggle of exposed knots and tangles. It formed a small cage, and Dean threw himself into it, just as the creature slammed into the wall of roots behind him, baying its outrage. Dead leaves squelched underfoot, musty and sweet smelling as Dean tried to back away from it, kicking out at the thing’s broad head with his boot.
It snarled at him, spittle dripping thick and viscous from its jaw, and Dean gagged at the dank breath that it panted into his face. His back slammed up against the tree itself, and he sat there gasping, watching as the creature tried to hook its paw through the network of roots. Judging by the thing’s strength, it would figure it out before too long.
“Just once, I wouldn’t mind something not trying to kill me,” he told it breathlessly as it savaged the roots in its way.
It screeched at him, burning eyes furious. A sharp crack off to Dean’s left suddenly caught its attention, and it withdrew, backing away from the sizeable hole it had made. Dean seized the opportunity to scramble away, dragging himself out of the root cage as the creature raged at something else nearby. Splinters dug into his hands as he pulled himself free, but he ignored the pain, stumbling away on shaking and exhausted legs.
There was blood roaring in his ears as he pushed through a dense wall of vines, cursing as it wound around his arms. He could still hear the creature baying for blood, and he panicked, throwing himself forcefully against the veins. They snapped under his weight and he tumbled forward, the ground disappearing beneath him.
The roaring intensified, and Dean got his first look at eternity. A waterfall dropped below him, spewing into a deep turquoise lake, and for a split second he felt like Wily Coyote, legs spinning and waiting for the inevitable moment where gravity would decide to kick in.
“OH SH-”
Gravity latched onto him gleefully, and Dean tumbled down into the waterfall’s frothy depths.
Sam scanned the treetops below, holding onto the craft with one hand as he cupped the other to his mouth. His hair whipped around crazily in the gale the helicraft blades kicked up, cheeks stinging.
“DEAN!”
The sky had shifted to an ominous purple as the suns set on the horizon. Already the night calls of several Kervianopta lilted through the air, mournful songs not helping Sam’s frazzled nerves.
Trust Dean to spend five minutes on an alien planet, and have something already trying to kill him. Typical. It would have been hilarious, except…
Dean hadn’t come back.
After waiting and searching the nearby area for any signs of Dean and his Vniglag admirer, everyone slowly realized that wherever the two had gone, it wasn’t anywhere they could reach. Dean was lost and alone on a hostile alien planet, and they were going to have to leave him there.
“DEAN!”
Ruby turned to look at him, her black eyes carefully blank behind the visor of her helmet. “I’m sorry Sam, but we’re gonna have to call it. We’re not allowed to run night ops, too dangerous,” she gave him a half-hearted smile, turning back to her controls and flicking the searchlight off. “He’s going to have to make it on his own until morning.”
Bobby shook his head, slowly taking his cap off to rub his forehead tiredly. He knew what the odds of survival for Dean were. “He ‘aint gonna make it to morning.”
“He’ll make it,” Sam hissed, refusing to give up scanning the ground for any signs of his brother. The helicraft banked left, and Sam slowly strapped himself back in, hands shaking. “You don’t know Dean like I do.”
Bobby sighed. “I guess that’s true. If Dean is anythin’ like your daddy, he’ll be just fine. But son, you gotta also be realistic ‘bout this. Oadriax at night ‘aint some place you wanna be. Especially if you don’t know what you’re doin’.”
Sam avoided his eyes, gritting his teeth.
“He’ll make it,” he repeated. “He has to.”
Godammit, Dean was so screwed.
Luckily nothing had tried to eat him when he hit the water, and it had been deep enough that he didn’t break anything. Dean had hauled himself onto the rocky embankment, thanking any God he could think of with deep heaving gasps that he had survived. But now he was reevaluating that gratitude.
He was stuck on a hostile alien planet, wet, no gun, lost, and by the looks of it, no goddamn luck whatsoever.
The beauty of Oadriax Dean had admired earlier in the light of day was now sinister, frightening. He jerked at every sound, every rustle. Hell, even the bugs seemed to be mocking him, buzzing in amusement as he stumbled by. He had fished the combat knife from his boot and brandished it in front of him nervously, swiping at shadows as nighttime slowly fell.
“I need some light or something,” he muttered, after trying to attack the fifth leaf of the day. He was cold and tired, clothes clammy against his skin and weighing him down. His teeth chattered loudly, and he rubbed his arms wearily. Survival 101, he needed heat if he was going to make it through the night. A fire.
“Where am I gonna find a light?” Dean gazed exasperatedly up at the dark canopy above. “Mind throwing me a bone here?”
His pocket clicked, metal shifting against metal, and Dean paused. With a frown, he shoved his hand into his back pocket, fingers closing around familiar smooth metal. His legs went wobbly with relief, muscles sore and strained from his leisurely jog through the forest earlier.
“Ok, I take it back, hallelujah, praise baby Jesus and all that jazz.”
Dean pulled his father’s lighter free, smiling at it. He had taken to carrying the old scuffed thing around as a good luck token but had forgotten about it. Now if only the water hadn’t fucked it up completely…
The gloom retreated as a lick of flame burst into life with a click. Dean grinned at it, feeling relatively optimistic.
“Lighter, you’re my new best friend.”
It took some searching in the dark for some dry enough twigs and grass, but he managed it even as his fingers shook. He settled into an old rotten trunk, sad assortment of twigs in front of him. The old trunk formed a little cone around him, providing some security at least, and he tucked himself inside, trembling hands eventually managing to spark a pathetic fire. Dean hunkered down, arms wrapped around his bent knees in an attempt to keep warm. The flames spluttered, and with a muttered curse, Dean reached for another twig. He could barely feel the rough wood under his fingertips as he poked the fire again, trying to encourage it to light properly.
Finally, slowly, the orange flame consumed the wood, burning brighter and warmer. Dean cackled triumphantly, though the sound was weak at best.
“I am man, bitches! Hear me roar!”
Chuffing laughter echoed through the trees, high pitched and keening. With a curse, Dean scrambled to his feet, snatching his knife up.
Iridescent yellow eyes gleamed back at him from the darkness, and Dean held the shaking knife in front of him.
“Can’t a guy catch a break?” he asked wearily. “Come on, I’ve had a hell of a day.”
Dog-like creatures slunk through the darkness towards him, separating from the shadows. Dean counted at least a dozen, maybe more, and he eyed them warily as they stole closer. They were small, jackal like animals that only reached his knees, but their mouths were wide and razor sharp as they snarled at him. Their waxy skin glimmered blue in the firelight, as their voices rose in volume, yipping and chattering to one another like hyenas. Probably each claiming the choicest bits of Dean to eat later.
Great.
They lunged forward as one, hoping to overwhelm him, and Dean sliced the knife in front of him, unwilling to move away from the safety of his small fire. They darted away again, huffing to one another as they circled his camp. One darted in to try and grab his ankle, and Dean sliced downwards with the knife, relishing the yip of pain that followed.
“No Dean on the menu tonight!” he called after it triumphantly as it skittered away. “So you can just go tell the rest of your little-OOF!”
Darting in like lightning, one latched onto his ankle, pulling hard as another slammed into his chest. His exhausted legs folded and Dean fell to the ground on his back, head slamming against the wood of his rough shelter. His vision went black for a moment, and one creature went for his face, white teeth snapping mere millimeters from his nose. Dimly, Dean realized his fingers were digging into the scruff its neck, fingers slipping along its waxy skin as he tried to hold it away from him. His boots scrabbled in the damp mulch beneath them, the sweet-sickly smell of decaying vegetation choking him. His boot hit the sad assortment of twigs he had gathered for the fire, and his tiny blaze died with a spluttering hiss, plunging them all into darkness.
The dog thing lunged lower, needle-like teeth piercing Dean’s left shoulder. The sudden lance of burning pain snapped him lucid, and Dean yelled hoarsely shoving it away. It moved back enough to let him bring his knife in, stabbing down forcefully into the creature’s side. Hot blood splashed over his hand, and Dean stabbed it again, twisting upwards with practiced ease. With a growl, the animal died, jaw loosening on his shoulder, and Dean shoved it away with a grimace.
Something slick and warm sluiced down his arm, and Dean slapped a hand to his shoulder, trying to stem the flow.
Blood. My blood.
The little bastards could smell it, smell how wounded he was. They went into a frenzy, just black smudges in the darkness as they circled him. Dean tried to get to his feet, stand and at least put up a fight, but his head was pounding, his limbs numb. One suddenly lunged in the darkness, jaw wide and teeth ready to sink into the soft skin of his throat. It would tear him open, rip out his very life force and that would be the end of him. Sam would probably never find him, his bones scattered across the forest by animals until Dean was a part of Oadraix itself; yet another statistic for the corporate big wigs to tsk over. Dean Winchester survived Hel just so he could be mauled to death by a jackal.
Stupid bastard.
Dean braced himself for it, expecting death to arrive in a hot spray of blood. He’d been flirting with the horseman for so long, it seemed fair enough to give in to him now.
But no skeletal dude in a black robe materialized. His throat stayed where it was.
With a pained whine, the jackal creature slumped to the ground, limbs twitching. A feathered arrow quivered in its side, rattling against its ribs as the creature sucked in one last rattling breath. Dean stared at it uncomprehending, blinking dumbly as the dogs voices around him erupted into panicked barking. His heart pounded behind his eyes, vision greying and fuzzy.
A shadow swept through the darkness, the dogs screeching as they were hit away, small shapes retreating back into the forest, howling and whining. One remained by Dean, unwilling to give up such easy prey, and it was buffeted away, sent careening into a tree. A sharp snap signaled its premature end, its siblings disappearing further into the undergrowth, tails between their legs.
Keeping his hand pressed to his shoulder, Dean shuffled backwards weakly. His knife lay forgotten on the ground, and his head dropped forward heavily.
“Stay, stay back,” he growled at the approaching dark shape. It was distorted, huge and looming in his drooping vision. “I…I’m warning you.”
He could feel a hand, warm fingers touching his bleeding shoulder carefully. Another touched his face, fingertips brushing against his cheek. Something soft and strong enveloped him, folding around his slumped body and pulling him close. Dean’s cheek pressed against a warm body, and he shuddered, teeth chattering as something smooth trailed against his arms.
“Rest,” a deep voice murmured against his hair, and Dean exhaled shakily, already slipping into the darkness. “Rest, toltorg.”
Like always, Dean dreamt of war.
A grenade shattered the earth beside him, showering him with hot dirt as he barreled through the smoke. The screams of the dying echoed around him, but instead of demons clambering among them with too sharp teeth and glowing eyes, cat monsters and jackals danced through the smoke. They sang a triumphant song of bloodthirst as they tore through the soldiers, Dean a scrambling infant in their midst.
Sharp pain burst through his shoulder, and Dean fell, knees slamming into the ground. He could hear his dad shouting his name as the creature that felled him turned his face towards it.
Mary’s face was burnt, flesh peeling in black strips as she smiled at him with clear eyes.
“Dean, honey, it’s time to wake up.”
Dean jolted awake to a loud squawk in his ear. Sluggishly, his brain struggled to catch up with him, and slowly he sat up, blinking.
A brightly colored bird stared back at him, plumage a mess of reds and blues. Two black beady eyes watched him accusingly, and the lilac feathers at its throat puffed as it opened its black beak to screech at him again. Dean glared at it blearily, rubbing his eyes.
“Sam, there’s a parrot in our-”
The parrot glowered at him fiercely, and Dean trailed off. He could feel sun at the back of his neck, weakly filtering through the green canopy overhead.
He wasn’t in his room. This was…this was…
“SHIT.”
He scrambled backwards, away from the bird. His back hit solid bark, and he glanced upwards to see that yep, he was in a tree. Turning back to scowl at the parrot, he pointed at it angrily.
“I swear to God, if you try to eat me I will kick your feathered ass right off this….uh…”
A quick glance down confirmed his fears. He was on a branch. In a tree.
Off the ground.
The parrot chirped at him, and Dean groaned, burying his face in his hands as he kicked one leg out at the bird sullenly.
“Can’t I just die in peace?” he muttered. “Why me?”
His shoulder throbbed, and Dean winced, dropping his hands to crane his face towards what would probably be a horrifically mangled shoulder. His fingers found the tear in his shirt, and slipped through the tattered fabric to prod gently at the skin below. To his amazement the skin was pink and tender, not torn and bloody. His shirt was stiff with dried blood but the wound was healed.
Huh. That was new.
The branch beneath him shivered, wobbling suddenly. With a croak, the parrot flapped away in a flurry of color, and Dean petulantly made a face at it.
“Yeah you fly off! Don’t think that I-”
The leaves of the tree shivered, and Dean suddenly realized why the parrot left.
An angel gracefully padded towards him, bare feet silent against the bark of the tree. His wings were relaxed, drooping low on either side of him and soaking up the weak sunlight. The feathers looked black but shimmered raven blue in the light, long flight feathers trailing behind him.
A rough looking bow was slung over his shoulder, and in his arms, the angel carried an assortment of odd looking fruits. Wordlessly, he dropped them at Dean’s feet.
“Ol,” the angel said gruffly, blue eyes cool and flat.
Dean just gawked at him some more. With an irritated grumble, the angel sat down, wings folding against his back. Reaching for something that looked like a spikey melon, he tapped it against the branch hard, breaking open the shell and beginning to peel with quick jerky movements.
Like Gabriel, he wore some sort of animal leather leggings, light beige and adorned with wooden beads and interwoven bands. A dark brown leather band was cinched around one bicep, stretching as he worked on the fruit. He was pale, with a mess of dark hair that would make any girl swoon. Lithe and slim, he was smaller than Dean but more defined with a chiseled jaw and features. Shit, he was a regular Michelangelo, and Dean was painfully aware of his stinky, grimy self in comparison.
He cleared his throat, watching the angel’s long fingers as they peeled the melon effortlessly.
“I uh…thanks. You got a name?”
The angel said nothing, merely pushing the now peeled fruit into Dean’s hands. It was wet and sticky, but Dean’s stomach voiced its joy at the prospect of food. The angel ignored him, grabbing another melon and working on it. Desperately hoping the fruit wouldn’t somehow come to life and kill him, Dean brought a piece to his lips, tongue flicking out to taste it briefly.
The fruit was cool against his tongue, sharp and tangy like a grapefruit. After a moment’s hesitation, Dean popped the whole thing into his mouth, chewing cautiously. Not bad. Not exactly a cheeseburger, but it would do. The angel glanced up to watch him as he ate, Dean’s stomach rumbling happily inside him, enjoying something healthy for a change.
Sam would be so proud.
He polished off the melon quickly, and wordlessly the angel handed him another. They sat together, eating in silence. Taking a quick stock of himself, Dean was surprised to feel the lighter still in his pocket, his knife carefully sheathed in his boot.
“So…Hi,” Dean tried again, and the angel paused his eating to look up. Man, but his eyes were blue. Dean’s previous experience with angels had only extended to seeing a few porn holos with them, maybe a poster or two with a well-endowed female angel doing a strip tease. Angels were prized in the sex trade and now Dean could see why. Were all angels ridiculously good-looking? He’d have to ask Sam about that.
“You saved my ass didn’t you?” Dean rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “Last night. I don’t know why but, thanks.”
A muscle in the angel’s jaw tensed, cool eyes suddenly sparking with anger. “You, you are like pashs,” he suddenly spat, startling Dean. “Child. Running around crying.”
Dean glared at him, surprise over hearing English momentarily overtaken by outrage. “Hey, there was no crying. I was doing perfectly fine until-”
“Nidali!”
Dean fell silent, eyes wide as the angel seemed to puff up, wings twitching.
“You do not belong here,” he said lowly, eyes flashing. Dude had a voice that could make women’s panties just fly off. Jesus. “You are toltag. From Earth.”
“Damn right I don’t belong here,” Dean muttered, rising to his feet. He swayed momentarily and the angel twitched as if to lunge forward, but stayed where he was. “I got chased by a big ass cat, fell down a waterfall and then got jumped by a pack of jackals. I might as well be wearing a friggin’ ‘Hello, I’m a tourist, please eat me’ t-shirt.”
He couldn’t see the ground, just a lot of branches and leaves, but there was no way he was sitting up here with a pissy angel. Dean dug his fingertips in to the rough bark, testing the strength of a limb a few inches lower with his feet. It held and Dean slowly shuffled his way down onto it.
“And that-” he lowered himself again, boots scrabbling against another branch lower down. “Was without trying. You think I want to be alone out here?”
The angel unfolded his legs, getting to his feet as he watched Dean struggle to try and climb down. The first few branches were overgrown and Dean struggled through the vegetation, batting away leaves, but eventually the branches spread out and he was able to move more freely. The tree had dark, irregular bark, lending his boots more purchase, and once he got a bit lower he could finally see the ground.
Orange buds along the branches shivered as he disturbed them, emitting a sharp smell that reminded him of pineapple, and he paused for a moment, inhaling deeply. With a rustle of feathers, the angel descended, touching down easily and gazing up at him. Dean twisted, ignoring the slight twinge in his shoulder as he did so, shimmying down the last few feet.
“And if I’m such a cry-baby, why did you even save me?”
Grass rustled underfoot as he finally dropped to the ground, boots kicking up mulch. He brushed himself down, reassuring himself again that he was actually in one piece.
“You…” the angel frowned, watching him as he fussed over his torn shirt. “You are brave. But stupid. Reckless and arrogant.”
Dean snorted, looking back up at his feathered savior. “You been talking to Sam? You sound just like him.”
The forest was warm and inviting now that night has passed, chirping cheerfully to him as cast around. The vegetation was thick, but traversable, if only he knew where he was going-
“Sam?” The angel had his head cocked like a curious cat, eyes no longer flat and angry. Dean shrugged, poking a hanging vine that trailed down from the canopy.
“Yeah, my brother. He’s a scientist at the complex. We got here yesterday an-”
A sharp tug on his arm spun him around, air leaving his lungs in a startled gasp. The angel’s fingers dug into his bicep hard, eyes shards of splintering ice as they bore into his own, mere inches away. Dean tugged but the angel barely budged, and a sudden jolt of genuine fear rose in his throat.
“Let go,” his voice was hoarse, wavering even to his ears as Dean tried to pull away. The sheer strength was unnerving, far too reminiscent of another creature he’d rather not think about, slamming him up against a shuttle. “Godammit, let me go!”
As if slapped, the angel let go, taking a step back. Those serious eyes left his face, zeroing in around his neck, and Dean felt like he could breathe again. He rubbed his arm, scowling for good measure as his heart kicked against his ribs.
“Hey Handsy Mc.Handerson, I know you’re new to the whole human thing but grabbing people? Not cool.”
The angel was ignoring him, and Dean glanced down to see what was so interesting about his chest.
His ID tags had escaped his shirt.
Dean grabbed them self-consciously, thumb immediately rubbing the third tag that hung down from the others. The body-warmed metal was familiar, and his thumb traced the letters even as he hurriedly pushed them back under his shirt.
“Dean.”
His name echoed around them, the forest seeming to quiet for a moment as Dean jerked his surprised gaze back to the angel. Those big blue eyes were back studying his face, searching for confirmation. “Dean Winchester.”
Dean could only stare at him blankly, surprised into silence. The angel didn’t seem to have much of a problem with that, staring at him right back, barely blinking. It was like a freaking staring contest he had no chance of winning, and finally having too much, Dean dropped his gaze, concentrating somewhere around the angel’s jaw.
“How did you know that?” he asked, voice rough and low.
The angel glanced away, wings twitching. Out of the sunlight they looked black, the shimmering blue and green hues not visible. One wing rubbed against the other nervously, feathers puffing and Dean scored it as a tiny victory. About time the feathery bastard felt uncomfortable.
“I will take you to Michael,” he finally said, voice like gravel. “He will know what to do.”
Dean blinked as the angel promptly darted away into the foliage, expecting him to follow. He sighed to himself, throwing his hands up.
“Great, yeah, more unsocial angels,” he muttered, picking his way through the vegetation in the direction the angel had gone.
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Author: daksgirl
Artist: terrorinyertub
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural, au, sci fi, drama
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Side pairings: Sam/Gabriel, past Sam/Jess
Rating: NC-17 (violence, adult situations, language)
Word Count: 80,668
Warnings: Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.
[Fic Masterpost]
[Art Masterpost]
The twin suns were already high in the endless blue sky when the helicraft finally took off.
Dean sat by the turret, gun metal warm under his hands as he dangled his legs out the open door. A thick strap kept him secured even as the warm breeze ruffled through the helicraft, and he relaxed a little, relishing the feeling of real air against his face. He didn’t mind this kind of flying, where he could see the lush green forests of Oadriax beneath and sky above. His throat was still tight, bruised inside, and the cool air felt nice as he breathed in and out.
They passed over a clear blue body of water and a flock of birds took flight, squawking up at the craft angrily. The sun danced off their bright purple plumage, two sets of leather wings moving independently from one another as they flapped towards safer waters. Sam grinned, leaning over Dean with his camera, squinting in the bright sun.
“Oh my god! This is…this is amazing!”
The wind snatched Sam's breathless shout away, his long hair whipping in all directions. With a roll of his eyes, Dean hooked his fingers into the waistband of Sam’s jeans, making sure his little brother wasn’t about to take a nosedive into infinity. The giant dork had been like a hyperactive kid while they were getting ready, and Dean hadn’t the heart to confide in him about the Colonel or creepy demons. Let the kid have his fun. Dean was a big boy and could deal with his own problems.
Safely strapped into his own seat, Bobby watched the two amusedly. The scientist had left his lab coat back at the base, choosing instead a more comfortable t-shirt and jeans. A tattered baseball cap was smashed low on his head and the scientist tugged it lower over his eyes with a wry chuckle.
The trees they passed were ancient, far larger than any tree found on Earth, towering high above them like colossal giants. The blades of the helicraft shook their branches and leaves, swirling the humid mist that rose from the plants below.
Sam finally allowed himself to be pulled back into the helicraft, sitting down with a smile that practically split his face in two.
Ruby flicked a few switches, glancing back towards Dean. “Hold on, we’re landing!”
There were a few tense moments where Dean was sure they were going to crash into a tree, but the demon got them down intact.
As soon as the wheels hit the ground, Dean was out and scanning the area for hostiles, gun sweeping in a wide arc. Ruby had chosen a relatively clear thicket, probably the only open spot in an otherwise impenetrable canopy of trees.
After a quick survey of the area, Dean nodded towards Ruby, who killed the engines. The engines died down with a whine and as they stilled completely, the forest came alive once again.
The air thickened with the calls of birds and insects humming. Wet heat pressed in around them as bright flowers splashed with red and purples winked out at them from the safety of the tall grasses.
Sam fell out of the helicraft in a mess of overeager limbs. Bobby hopped down more gracefully, shooting an affectionate smile towards the awed xenobiologist. The nerd was overwhelmed, turning in a huge circle as he gazed up at the huge trees, eyes wide and disbelieving. With a chuckle, Bobby clapped him on the shoulder.
“Come on, kid. Lots more to see.”
Bobby led the way, Dean close behind as he scanned the plants around them. Long grass trailed against his thighs as he moved, vines snagging his boots. Something rustled in the canopy overhead, and Dean wasted no time, swinging his rifle around and aiming.
A lemur-like creature stared back, huge brown eyes curious as it cocked its head at him. With a sigh, Bobby turned to fix Dean in a glare.
“Itchy trigger-finger there, son?”
The monkey thing chattered loudly, swinging its way back into the safety of the forest. Dean lowered his gun sheepishly.
“Sorry, sir. Just keeping alert.”
Sam was still staring up at the huge trees around them, bag slung haphazardly across one shoulder. Dean reached out to pull him along, pushing him none-too gently towards Bobby.
“How will they know we’re here?” Sam blinked, finally paying attention to where he was walking. “The angels I mean.”
Bobby shrugged, picking his way through the tall grass. An insect latched onto his leg and he flicked it away dismissively. “Probably watching us right now.”
Dean scanned the trees around them, half expecting to hear the rustle of feathers. For a moment, he thought he saw a dark shadow flit between the ferns, but then it was gone.
Unnerved, he quickly followed after Bobby.
God but science was boring.
Dean watched over the scientists absently, rifle held loosely in his hands as he leant against the rough thick bark of a tree. Sam was crouched low over one of the huge tree trunks. Bobby settled beside him. From Dean’s spot, it looked like they were just poking the tree.
Sam blew his hair out of his eyes, smiling as he continued to poke the root with what Dean thought was just another stick. “Wow, it’s that fast?”
Bobby nodded proudly, pushing his baseball cap back to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Yep. It’s that fast. Amazin’ isn’t it? Now, if you just grab the transduc-”
With a roll of his eyes, Dean turned away from the geek fest, letting their voices fade into a steady murmur behind him. The area seemed safe enough, no reason he couldn’t check out the local nature himself.
He hummed to himself as he slowly moved around the tree trunk, one hand trailing against the rough bark. An insect bumped into his cheek, plump and lazy in the mid-day heat. He swatted at it half-heartedly, and it cheerfully hummed back at him, flying drunken cart loops away into the surrounding vegetation.
It took him a good few minutes to get fully around the massive tree trunk and as he pushed through a thick wall of fern, he gawked in surprise at the new life he had found.
“Oh wow.”
A small waist high forest of fungus-like plants spread before him. Slinging the rifle across his back, Dean approached them, smiling. Like weird exotic mushrooms, they rose from thick stalks in the ground, into a broad cap. Their skin was pink and velvety looking, and as Dean approached, the plants shivered as if aware of his presence among them. Curious, he reached out to touch one.
The pad of his finger had barely brushed it, but the plant suddenly reacted, retracting itself into the ground quickly with a loud ‘thunk’. Surprised, Dean took a step back, jostling another one which set off a chain reaction, all the plants disappearing with a dull hollow sound.
“Woah,” Dean grinned. “Never seen a….oh crap.”
What he had mistaken for a big rock behind the mushrooms, moved.
Disgruntled its nap had been disturbed, the animal rose to its full height, snorting angrily. A solid grey wall of muscle with two black beady eyes, it turned its beefy head to fix the human in a grumpy glare. Dean scrambled to swing his rifle around, and the creature trumpeted at the sound, the ground quaking where it stamped its thick feet.
Rhino. Dean thought dumbly. How do you take down a rhino?
The grasses to Dean’s right rustled, and Bobby tripped into view, slinging his arm out to stop Sam from toppling forward.
“Don’t shoot!” the scientist hissed, eyes wide. “Don’t shoot, you’ll just piss ‘im off.”
Dean watched the creature as it did a half charge forward, bright feathers aggressively flared along the crest of its head.
“It’s already pissed off!” he snapped back, palms sweaty and heart racing. “Not much more pissed it can get!”
Bobby shot him a clear you’re-an-idiot-and-you’re-going-to-die, look. “It’s a territorial display. Just, stand your ground.”
The creature trumpeted again, feathers fluttering angrily as it scraped one massive foot against the damp grass.
“Well great, what should I do?” Dean demanded, voice hitching. “Dance with it?”
“Try a waltz,” Sam suggested, and Dean had to stop himself from throwing the gun at his brother’s head.
Before he could seriously contemplate that course of action however, the rhino was on the move, barreling towards him and trampling the grass in its wake. He was going to be a Dean-shaped pancake in the next ten seconds.
Here lies Dean Winchester, stupid bastard got trampled by a rhino, serves him right.
Fuck that. He had to make Sam pay for that whole dancing comment.
Flinging his arms up, Dean took a few steps forward, shouting hoarsely. The rhino drew up just short of flattening him completely, slowly backing up with distressed snorts.
“Ha!” Dean shot a grin towards his brother. “I’m a regular Dr. Doolittle!”
But Sam wasn’t paying attention to him, eyes focused somewhere just beyond him. Bobby looked pale, mouth opening and closing as he shakily pointed behind Dean. A quick glance behind him revealed another creature. Something big with teeth.
Lots and lots of teeth.
Dean stood perfectly still, rifle creaking in his hands.
“Run?” he whispered loudly, and his heart sank as Bobby nodded once sharply.
“Run. Definitely run.”
Let’s go to Oadriax, Sam said. It’ll be fun, Sam said.
Grasses slapped against his legs as Dean ran, lungs burning as he ducked through dense trees and tore through thickets of ferns. Small creatures went scattering in all directions in front of him, hoots of alarm ringing through the treetops. The cat-like thing barreled after him, batting branches and plants out of its way like it was just a game, and Dean was the squeaking mouse. It was all corded muscle and teeth, and it wanted him as dinner.
A fallen tree trunk blocked his path up ahead, and Dean took a deep breath, trying to blink the sweat from his eyes. He sprinted towards it, everything around him just a green blur as he slapped his free hand down onto the rough bark. Using the momentum, he managed to vault over the dead tree, feeling air whistle mere inches from his back as the creature slammed one thick paw down. A talon caught in the cuff of his pants; the material ripped away easily.
Dean shouted encouragement at his legs to move faster.
Something caught his ankle and he went down hard, face planting into a mushroom that helpfully spewed gunk at him. The rifle went clattering away, and luckily the cat thing went after it, drawn by the shiny metal. Hurriedly rubbing his eyes clear of warm and sticky mushroom gunk, Dean scrambled to all fours, ready to make another mad dash into the undergrowth.
A massive tree loomed above him to his right. Its roots had eroded away the soil and now formed an ancient scraggle of exposed knots and tangles. It formed a small cage, and Dean threw himself into it, just as the creature slammed into the wall of roots behind him, baying its outrage. Dead leaves squelched underfoot, musty and sweet smelling as Dean tried to back away from it, kicking out at the thing’s broad head with his boot.
It snarled at him, spittle dripping thick and viscous from its jaw, and Dean gagged at the dank breath that it panted into his face. His back slammed up against the tree itself, and he sat there gasping, watching as the creature tried to hook its paw through the network of roots. Judging by the thing’s strength, it would figure it out before too long.
“Just once, I wouldn’t mind something not trying to kill me,” he told it breathlessly as it savaged the roots in its way.
It screeched at him, burning eyes furious. A sharp crack off to Dean’s left suddenly caught its attention, and it withdrew, backing away from the sizeable hole it had made. Dean seized the opportunity to scramble away, dragging himself out of the root cage as the creature raged at something else nearby. Splinters dug into his hands as he pulled himself free, but he ignored the pain, stumbling away on shaking and exhausted legs.
There was blood roaring in his ears as he pushed through a dense wall of vines, cursing as it wound around his arms. He could still hear the creature baying for blood, and he panicked, throwing himself forcefully against the veins. They snapped under his weight and he tumbled forward, the ground disappearing beneath him.
The roaring intensified, and Dean got his first look at eternity. A waterfall dropped below him, spewing into a deep turquoise lake, and for a split second he felt like Wily Coyote, legs spinning and waiting for the inevitable moment where gravity would decide to kick in.
“OH SH-”
Gravity latched onto him gleefully, and Dean tumbled down into the waterfall’s frothy depths.
Sam scanned the treetops below, holding onto the craft with one hand as he cupped the other to his mouth. His hair whipped around crazily in the gale the helicraft blades kicked up, cheeks stinging.
“DEAN!”
The sky had shifted to an ominous purple as the suns set on the horizon. Already the night calls of several Kervianopta lilted through the air, mournful songs not helping Sam’s frazzled nerves.
Trust Dean to spend five minutes on an alien planet, and have something already trying to kill him. Typical. It would have been hilarious, except…
Dean hadn’t come back.
After waiting and searching the nearby area for any signs of Dean and his Vniglag admirer, everyone slowly realized that wherever the two had gone, it wasn’t anywhere they could reach. Dean was lost and alone on a hostile alien planet, and they were going to have to leave him there.
“DEAN!”
Ruby turned to look at him, her black eyes carefully blank behind the visor of her helmet. “I’m sorry Sam, but we’re gonna have to call it. We’re not allowed to run night ops, too dangerous,” she gave him a half-hearted smile, turning back to her controls and flicking the searchlight off. “He’s going to have to make it on his own until morning.”
Bobby shook his head, slowly taking his cap off to rub his forehead tiredly. He knew what the odds of survival for Dean were. “He ‘aint gonna make it to morning.”
“He’ll make it,” Sam hissed, refusing to give up scanning the ground for any signs of his brother. The helicraft banked left, and Sam slowly strapped himself back in, hands shaking. “You don’t know Dean like I do.”
Bobby sighed. “I guess that’s true. If Dean is anythin’ like your daddy, he’ll be just fine. But son, you gotta also be realistic ‘bout this. Oadriax at night ‘aint some place you wanna be. Especially if you don’t know what you’re doin’.”
Sam avoided his eyes, gritting his teeth.
“He’ll make it,” he repeated. “He has to.”
Godammit, Dean was so screwed.
Luckily nothing had tried to eat him when he hit the water, and it had been deep enough that he didn’t break anything. Dean had hauled himself onto the rocky embankment, thanking any God he could think of with deep heaving gasps that he had survived. But now he was reevaluating that gratitude.
He was stuck on a hostile alien planet, wet, no gun, lost, and by the looks of it, no goddamn luck whatsoever.
The beauty of Oadriax Dean had admired earlier in the light of day was now sinister, frightening. He jerked at every sound, every rustle. Hell, even the bugs seemed to be mocking him, buzzing in amusement as he stumbled by. He had fished the combat knife from his boot and brandished it in front of him nervously, swiping at shadows as nighttime slowly fell.
“I need some light or something,” he muttered, after trying to attack the fifth leaf of the day. He was cold and tired, clothes clammy against his skin and weighing him down. His teeth chattered loudly, and he rubbed his arms wearily. Survival 101, he needed heat if he was going to make it through the night. A fire.
“Where am I gonna find a light?” Dean gazed exasperatedly up at the dark canopy above. “Mind throwing me a bone here?”
His pocket clicked, metal shifting against metal, and Dean paused. With a frown, he shoved his hand into his back pocket, fingers closing around familiar smooth metal. His legs went wobbly with relief, muscles sore and strained from his leisurely jog through the forest earlier.
“Ok, I take it back, hallelujah, praise baby Jesus and all that jazz.”
Dean pulled his father’s lighter free, smiling at it. He had taken to carrying the old scuffed thing around as a good luck token but had forgotten about it. Now if only the water hadn’t fucked it up completely…
The gloom retreated as a lick of flame burst into life with a click. Dean grinned at it, feeling relatively optimistic.
“Lighter, you’re my new best friend.”
It took some searching in the dark for some dry enough twigs and grass, but he managed it even as his fingers shook. He settled into an old rotten trunk, sad assortment of twigs in front of him. The old trunk formed a little cone around him, providing some security at least, and he tucked himself inside, trembling hands eventually managing to spark a pathetic fire. Dean hunkered down, arms wrapped around his bent knees in an attempt to keep warm. The flames spluttered, and with a muttered curse, Dean reached for another twig. He could barely feel the rough wood under his fingertips as he poked the fire again, trying to encourage it to light properly.
Finally, slowly, the orange flame consumed the wood, burning brighter and warmer. Dean cackled triumphantly, though the sound was weak at best.
“I am man, bitches! Hear me roar!”
Chuffing laughter echoed through the trees, high pitched and keening. With a curse, Dean scrambled to his feet, snatching his knife up.
Iridescent yellow eyes gleamed back at him from the darkness, and Dean held the shaking knife in front of him.
“Can’t a guy catch a break?” he asked wearily. “Come on, I’ve had a hell of a day.”
Dog-like creatures slunk through the darkness towards him, separating from the shadows. Dean counted at least a dozen, maybe more, and he eyed them warily as they stole closer. They were small, jackal like animals that only reached his knees, but their mouths were wide and razor sharp as they snarled at him. Their waxy skin glimmered blue in the firelight, as their voices rose in volume, yipping and chattering to one another like hyenas. Probably each claiming the choicest bits of Dean to eat later.
Great.
They lunged forward as one, hoping to overwhelm him, and Dean sliced the knife in front of him, unwilling to move away from the safety of his small fire. They darted away again, huffing to one another as they circled his camp. One darted in to try and grab his ankle, and Dean sliced downwards with the knife, relishing the yip of pain that followed.
“No Dean on the menu tonight!” he called after it triumphantly as it skittered away. “So you can just go tell the rest of your little-OOF!”
Darting in like lightning, one latched onto his ankle, pulling hard as another slammed into his chest. His exhausted legs folded and Dean fell to the ground on his back, head slamming against the wood of his rough shelter. His vision went black for a moment, and one creature went for his face, white teeth snapping mere millimeters from his nose. Dimly, Dean realized his fingers were digging into the scruff its neck, fingers slipping along its waxy skin as he tried to hold it away from him. His boots scrabbled in the damp mulch beneath them, the sweet-sickly smell of decaying vegetation choking him. His boot hit the sad assortment of twigs he had gathered for the fire, and his tiny blaze died with a spluttering hiss, plunging them all into darkness.
The dog thing lunged lower, needle-like teeth piercing Dean’s left shoulder. The sudden lance of burning pain snapped him lucid, and Dean yelled hoarsely shoving it away. It moved back enough to let him bring his knife in, stabbing down forcefully into the creature’s side. Hot blood splashed over his hand, and Dean stabbed it again, twisting upwards with practiced ease. With a growl, the animal died, jaw loosening on his shoulder, and Dean shoved it away with a grimace.
Something slick and warm sluiced down his arm, and Dean slapped a hand to his shoulder, trying to stem the flow.
Blood. My blood.
The little bastards could smell it, smell how wounded he was. They went into a frenzy, just black smudges in the darkness as they circled him. Dean tried to get to his feet, stand and at least put up a fight, but his head was pounding, his limbs numb. One suddenly lunged in the darkness, jaw wide and teeth ready to sink into the soft skin of his throat. It would tear him open, rip out his very life force and that would be the end of him. Sam would probably never find him, his bones scattered across the forest by animals until Dean was a part of Oadraix itself; yet another statistic for the corporate big wigs to tsk over. Dean Winchester survived Hel just so he could be mauled to death by a jackal.
Stupid bastard.
Dean braced himself for it, expecting death to arrive in a hot spray of blood. He’d been flirting with the horseman for so long, it seemed fair enough to give in to him now.
But no skeletal dude in a black robe materialized. His throat stayed where it was.
With a pained whine, the jackal creature slumped to the ground, limbs twitching. A feathered arrow quivered in its side, rattling against its ribs as the creature sucked in one last rattling breath. Dean stared at it uncomprehending, blinking dumbly as the dogs voices around him erupted into panicked barking. His heart pounded behind his eyes, vision greying and fuzzy.
A shadow swept through the darkness, the dogs screeching as they were hit away, small shapes retreating back into the forest, howling and whining. One remained by Dean, unwilling to give up such easy prey, and it was buffeted away, sent careening into a tree. A sharp snap signaled its premature end, its siblings disappearing further into the undergrowth, tails between their legs.
Keeping his hand pressed to his shoulder, Dean shuffled backwards weakly. His knife lay forgotten on the ground, and his head dropped forward heavily.
“Stay, stay back,” he growled at the approaching dark shape. It was distorted, huge and looming in his drooping vision. “I…I’m warning you.”
He could feel a hand, warm fingers touching his bleeding shoulder carefully. Another touched his face, fingertips brushing against his cheek. Something soft and strong enveloped him, folding around his slumped body and pulling him close. Dean’s cheek pressed against a warm body, and he shuddered, teeth chattering as something smooth trailed against his arms.
“Rest,” a deep voice murmured against his hair, and Dean exhaled shakily, already slipping into the darkness. “Rest, toltorg.”
Like always, Dean dreamt of war.
A grenade shattered the earth beside him, showering him with hot dirt as he barreled through the smoke. The screams of the dying echoed around him, but instead of demons clambering among them with too sharp teeth and glowing eyes, cat monsters and jackals danced through the smoke. They sang a triumphant song of bloodthirst as they tore through the soldiers, Dean a scrambling infant in their midst.
Sharp pain burst through his shoulder, and Dean fell, knees slamming into the ground. He could hear his dad shouting his name as the creature that felled him turned his face towards it.
Mary’s face was burnt, flesh peeling in black strips as she smiled at him with clear eyes.
“Dean, honey, it’s time to wake up.”
Dean jolted awake to a loud squawk in his ear. Sluggishly, his brain struggled to catch up with him, and slowly he sat up, blinking.
A brightly colored bird stared back at him, plumage a mess of reds and blues. Two black beady eyes watched him accusingly, and the lilac feathers at its throat puffed as it opened its black beak to screech at him again. Dean glared at it blearily, rubbing his eyes.
“Sam, there’s a parrot in our-”
The parrot glowered at him fiercely, and Dean trailed off. He could feel sun at the back of his neck, weakly filtering through the green canopy overhead.
He wasn’t in his room. This was…this was…
“SHIT.”
He scrambled backwards, away from the bird. His back hit solid bark, and he glanced upwards to see that yep, he was in a tree. Turning back to scowl at the parrot, he pointed at it angrily.
“I swear to God, if you try to eat me I will kick your feathered ass right off this….uh…”
A quick glance down confirmed his fears. He was on a branch. In a tree.
Off the ground.
The parrot chirped at him, and Dean groaned, burying his face in his hands as he kicked one leg out at the bird sullenly.
“Can’t I just die in peace?” he muttered. “Why me?”
His shoulder throbbed, and Dean winced, dropping his hands to crane his face towards what would probably be a horrifically mangled shoulder. His fingers found the tear in his shirt, and slipped through the tattered fabric to prod gently at the skin below. To his amazement the skin was pink and tender, not torn and bloody. His shirt was stiff with dried blood but the wound was healed.
Huh. That was new.
The branch beneath him shivered, wobbling suddenly. With a croak, the parrot flapped away in a flurry of color, and Dean petulantly made a face at it.
“Yeah you fly off! Don’t think that I-”
The leaves of the tree shivered, and Dean suddenly realized why the parrot left.
An angel gracefully padded towards him, bare feet silent against the bark of the tree. His wings were relaxed, drooping low on either side of him and soaking up the weak sunlight. The feathers looked black but shimmered raven blue in the light, long flight feathers trailing behind him.
A rough looking bow was slung over his shoulder, and in his arms, the angel carried an assortment of odd looking fruits. Wordlessly, he dropped them at Dean’s feet.
“Ol,” the angel said gruffly, blue eyes cool and flat.
Dean just gawked at him some more. With an irritated grumble, the angel sat down, wings folding against his back. Reaching for something that looked like a spikey melon, he tapped it against the branch hard, breaking open the shell and beginning to peel with quick jerky movements.
Like Gabriel, he wore some sort of animal leather leggings, light beige and adorned with wooden beads and interwoven bands. A dark brown leather band was cinched around one bicep, stretching as he worked on the fruit. He was pale, with a mess of dark hair that would make any girl swoon. Lithe and slim, he was smaller than Dean but more defined with a chiseled jaw and features. Shit, he was a regular Michelangelo, and Dean was painfully aware of his stinky, grimy self in comparison.
He cleared his throat, watching the angel’s long fingers as they peeled the melon effortlessly.
“I uh…thanks. You got a name?”
The angel said nothing, merely pushing the now peeled fruit into Dean’s hands. It was wet and sticky, but Dean’s stomach voiced its joy at the prospect of food. The angel ignored him, grabbing another melon and working on it. Desperately hoping the fruit wouldn’t somehow come to life and kill him, Dean brought a piece to his lips, tongue flicking out to taste it briefly.
The fruit was cool against his tongue, sharp and tangy like a grapefruit. After a moment’s hesitation, Dean popped the whole thing into his mouth, chewing cautiously. Not bad. Not exactly a cheeseburger, but it would do. The angel glanced up to watch him as he ate, Dean’s stomach rumbling happily inside him, enjoying something healthy for a change.
Sam would be so proud.
He polished off the melon quickly, and wordlessly the angel handed him another. They sat together, eating in silence. Taking a quick stock of himself, Dean was surprised to feel the lighter still in his pocket, his knife carefully sheathed in his boot.
“So…Hi,” Dean tried again, and the angel paused his eating to look up. Man, but his eyes were blue. Dean’s previous experience with angels had only extended to seeing a few porn holos with them, maybe a poster or two with a well-endowed female angel doing a strip tease. Angels were prized in the sex trade and now Dean could see why. Were all angels ridiculously good-looking? He’d have to ask Sam about that.
“You saved my ass didn’t you?” Dean rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “Last night. I don’t know why but, thanks.”
A muscle in the angel’s jaw tensed, cool eyes suddenly sparking with anger. “You, you are like pashs,” he suddenly spat, startling Dean. “Child. Running around crying.”
Dean glared at him, surprise over hearing English momentarily overtaken by outrage. “Hey, there was no crying. I was doing perfectly fine until-”
“Nidali!”
Dean fell silent, eyes wide as the angel seemed to puff up, wings twitching.
“You do not belong here,” he said lowly, eyes flashing. Dude had a voice that could make women’s panties just fly off. Jesus. “You are toltag. From Earth.”
“Damn right I don’t belong here,” Dean muttered, rising to his feet. He swayed momentarily and the angel twitched as if to lunge forward, but stayed where he was. “I got chased by a big ass cat, fell down a waterfall and then got jumped by a pack of jackals. I might as well be wearing a friggin’ ‘Hello, I’m a tourist, please eat me’ t-shirt.”
He couldn’t see the ground, just a lot of branches and leaves, but there was no way he was sitting up here with a pissy angel. Dean dug his fingertips in to the rough bark, testing the strength of a limb a few inches lower with his feet. It held and Dean slowly shuffled his way down onto it.
“And that-” he lowered himself again, boots scrabbling against another branch lower down. “Was without trying. You think I want to be alone out here?”
The angel unfolded his legs, getting to his feet as he watched Dean struggle to try and climb down. The first few branches were overgrown and Dean struggled through the vegetation, batting away leaves, but eventually the branches spread out and he was able to move more freely. The tree had dark, irregular bark, lending his boots more purchase, and once he got a bit lower he could finally see the ground.
Orange buds along the branches shivered as he disturbed them, emitting a sharp smell that reminded him of pineapple, and he paused for a moment, inhaling deeply. With a rustle of feathers, the angel descended, touching down easily and gazing up at him. Dean twisted, ignoring the slight twinge in his shoulder as he did so, shimmying down the last few feet.
“And if I’m such a cry-baby, why did you even save me?”
Grass rustled underfoot as he finally dropped to the ground, boots kicking up mulch. He brushed himself down, reassuring himself again that he was actually in one piece.
“You…” the angel frowned, watching him as he fussed over his torn shirt. “You are brave. But stupid. Reckless and arrogant.”
Dean snorted, looking back up at his feathered savior. “You been talking to Sam? You sound just like him.”
The forest was warm and inviting now that night has passed, chirping cheerfully to him as cast around. The vegetation was thick, but traversable, if only he knew where he was going-
“Sam?” The angel had his head cocked like a curious cat, eyes no longer flat and angry. Dean shrugged, poking a hanging vine that trailed down from the canopy.
“Yeah, my brother. He’s a scientist at the complex. We got here yesterday an-”
A sharp tug on his arm spun him around, air leaving his lungs in a startled gasp. The angel’s fingers dug into his bicep hard, eyes shards of splintering ice as they bore into his own, mere inches away. Dean tugged but the angel barely budged, and a sudden jolt of genuine fear rose in his throat.
“Let go,” his voice was hoarse, wavering even to his ears as Dean tried to pull away. The sheer strength was unnerving, far too reminiscent of another creature he’d rather not think about, slamming him up against a shuttle. “Godammit, let me go!”
As if slapped, the angel let go, taking a step back. Those serious eyes left his face, zeroing in around his neck, and Dean felt like he could breathe again. He rubbed his arm, scowling for good measure as his heart kicked against his ribs.
“Hey Handsy Mc.Handerson, I know you’re new to the whole human thing but grabbing people? Not cool.”
The angel was ignoring him, and Dean glanced down to see what was so interesting about his chest.
His ID tags had escaped his shirt.
Dean grabbed them self-consciously, thumb immediately rubbing the third tag that hung down from the others. The body-warmed metal was familiar, and his thumb traced the letters even as he hurriedly pushed them back under his shirt.
“Dean.”
His name echoed around them, the forest seeming to quiet for a moment as Dean jerked his surprised gaze back to the angel. Those big blue eyes were back studying his face, searching for confirmation. “Dean Winchester.”
Dean could only stare at him blankly, surprised into silence. The angel didn’t seem to have much of a problem with that, staring at him right back, barely blinking. It was like a freaking staring contest he had no chance of winning, and finally having too much, Dean dropped his gaze, concentrating somewhere around the angel’s jaw.
“How did you know that?” he asked, voice rough and low.
The angel glanced away, wings twitching. Out of the sunlight they looked black, the shimmering blue and green hues not visible. One wing rubbed against the other nervously, feathers puffing and Dean scored it as a tiny victory. About time the feathery bastard felt uncomfortable.
“I will take you to Michael,” he finally said, voice like gravel. “He will know what to do.”
Dean blinked as the angel promptly darted away into the foliage, expecting him to follow. He sighed to himself, throwing his hands up.
“Great, yeah, more unsocial angels,” he muttered, picking his way through the vegetation in the direction the angel had gone.
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