not failing as he fell
Title: not failing as he fell
Challenge: 28 - lines 24-25 of Falling and Flying (spn_30snapshots); mini_nanowrimo Day 3
Word Count: 751
Rating: T
Notes: Takes place during the equivalent of "Sympathy for the Devil" in a Supernatural AR I'm using this challenge to develop. I intended to write another one before this, but it's not coming just yet. Maybe I'll add it in later.
--
Sam gasped for breath he couldn't get. That he didn't have the lungs to get, Christ. The lack of oxygen wasn't doing a thing to stop the hole in his leg from killing him, though the rest of him was starting to numb up.
Even with his vision graying at the corners, he could still see the malice curling up the corners of Zachariah's mouth.
That son of a bitch was really enjoying this, torturing him to get to Dean. He didn't know why he was surprised. Just look at Jimmy Novak; "consent" clearly didn't mean to angels what it meant to people.
Dean dropped to his hands and knees, spitting out a dark red clot of blood. "Just kill us."
"Kill you?" Zachariah chuckled darkly. "Oh, no. I'm just getting started."
Before he could list off what he intended to do next, like some kind of sadistic B-movie villain, the door to the lockup creaked open. Zachariah turned slowly, his minions turning with him, to stare at the scared little girl in the doorway.
Oh hell.
"Claire," Dean choked out, teeth stained pink with bloody saliva. "Don't-"
"You're Castiel's vessel," Zachariah realized, stepping closer. Claire stared up at him, wide-eyed. "He left you in the end, didn't he? Tried to save your life, since his was already over." He tilted his head slowly, and one of the minions reached into his jacket pocket. "Bad enough he rebelled for a human, but did he have to die saving one?"
Zachariah held out a hand. Without a word, the back up dancer handed him a sword, the blade almost rounded but tapering to a deadly silver point. An angel-killing blade.
"No matter," he continued, running a thumb over the edge. "We'll fix that." He took another step closer, his minions blocking her exits.
Zachariah turned back to Dean and Sam with a grin. "Don't worry boys, I'll be with you in a minute, I've just got some trash to-"
The bald minion died with a strangled cry and a burst of light. Alarmed, Zachariah stepped back, shielding his eyes with one hand.
The light faded to reveal Claire Novak gripping the handle of the angel-killing sword. The blade of the sword was still buried in the minion's stomach. She tore it out of his body with a grunt and got to her feet, handling the sword with frightening skill for a kid.
Except, pretty clearly, that wasn't a kid in there. Sam felt suddenly breathless for a reason that had nothing to do with his lack of lungs.
"Cas," Dean breathed.
But the other angel wasn't going to let his brother die without protest. He charged at Castiel with a cry, grabbing at Claire Novak's hair and tugging, pulling her head back to reveal her neck, pale and vulnerable. With a snarl, he drew his own angel-killing sword across her throat.
Or he would have, if Castiel hadn't parried the motion with her own sword. The minion tugged again, shaking Castiel's hold. The press of sword against sword wavered, both blades edging ever closer to Castiel's neck. With a frustrated grunt, Castiel pushed the swords away with both hands. The other angel took a step backward, surprised by the strength in the tiny girl's shove. His hand, still tangled in her hair, tugged her along.
Castiel swung her arm around and hacked the hair off.
Hand free, the other angel fell back another step, two. Long enough to give Castiel an opening that she took readily, jumping on the angel's chest and stabbing down.
His death etched wings in the floor of the lockup.
The whole thing had taken maybe thirty seconds in all.
Castiel stood up on the empty vessel, ragged pieces of hair still falling away from her face. She stared up at Zachariah, who gaped at her.
"How are you..."
"Alive?" Castiel whispered, voice low. "That's a good question. How did they," gesturing at Sam and Dean with her sword, "get on that airplane? Another good question. You certainly didn't do it. I think we both know who did."
"No," Zachariah protested, stepping back. "That's not possible."
"And yet, here I am." Castiel stepped off the corpse and approached Zachariah. "Put them back together and leave. I won't ask twice."
Zachariah disappeared, and Sam could suddenly breathe again. Sucking in air gratefully, he stared up at Cl - at Castiel, who looked back with such strange, young old eyes he had to avert his gaze. Pulling Dean to his feet seemed like a good alternative.
"Jeez, Cas," Dean muttered, looking at the angel with something like admiration, or maybe worry. "Way to make a guy feel inadequate."
Challenge: 28 - lines 24-25 of Falling and Flying (spn_30snapshots); mini_nanowrimo Day 3
Word Count: 751
Rating: T
Notes: Takes place during the equivalent of "Sympathy for the Devil" in a Supernatural AR I'm using this challenge to develop. I intended to write another one before this, but it's not coming just yet. Maybe I'll add it in later.
--
Sam gasped for breath he couldn't get. That he didn't have the lungs to get, Christ. The lack of oxygen wasn't doing a thing to stop the hole in his leg from killing him, though the rest of him was starting to numb up.
Even with his vision graying at the corners, he could still see the malice curling up the corners of Zachariah's mouth.
That son of a bitch was really enjoying this, torturing him to get to Dean. He didn't know why he was surprised. Just look at Jimmy Novak; "consent" clearly didn't mean to angels what it meant to people.
Dean dropped to his hands and knees, spitting out a dark red clot of blood. "Just kill us."
"Kill you?" Zachariah chuckled darkly. "Oh, no. I'm just getting started."
Before he could list off what he intended to do next, like some kind of sadistic B-movie villain, the door to the lockup creaked open. Zachariah turned slowly, his minions turning with him, to stare at the scared little girl in the doorway.
Oh hell.
"Claire," Dean choked out, teeth stained pink with bloody saliva. "Don't-"
"You're Castiel's vessel," Zachariah realized, stepping closer. Claire stared up at him, wide-eyed. "He left you in the end, didn't he? Tried to save your life, since his was already over." He tilted his head slowly, and one of the minions reached into his jacket pocket. "Bad enough he rebelled for a human, but did he have to die saving one?"
Zachariah held out a hand. Without a word, the back up dancer handed him a sword, the blade almost rounded but tapering to a deadly silver point. An angel-killing blade.
"No matter," he continued, running a thumb over the edge. "We'll fix that." He took another step closer, his minions blocking her exits.
Zachariah turned back to Dean and Sam with a grin. "Don't worry boys, I'll be with you in a minute, I've just got some trash to-"
The bald minion died with a strangled cry and a burst of light. Alarmed, Zachariah stepped back, shielding his eyes with one hand.
The light faded to reveal Claire Novak gripping the handle of the angel-killing sword. The blade of the sword was still buried in the minion's stomach. She tore it out of his body with a grunt and got to her feet, handling the sword with frightening skill for a kid.
Except, pretty clearly, that wasn't a kid in there. Sam felt suddenly breathless for a reason that had nothing to do with his lack of lungs.
"Cas," Dean breathed.
But the other angel wasn't going to let his brother die without protest. He charged at Castiel with a cry, grabbing at Claire Novak's hair and tugging, pulling her head back to reveal her neck, pale and vulnerable. With a snarl, he drew his own angel-killing sword across her throat.
Or he would have, if Castiel hadn't parried the motion with her own sword. The minion tugged again, shaking Castiel's hold. The press of sword against sword wavered, both blades edging ever closer to Castiel's neck. With a frustrated grunt, Castiel pushed the swords away with both hands. The other angel took a step backward, surprised by the strength in the tiny girl's shove. His hand, still tangled in her hair, tugged her along.
Castiel swung her arm around and hacked the hair off.
Hand free, the other angel fell back another step, two. Long enough to give Castiel an opening that she took readily, jumping on the angel's chest and stabbing down.
His death etched wings in the floor of the lockup.
The whole thing had taken maybe thirty seconds in all.
Castiel stood up on the empty vessel, ragged pieces of hair still falling away from her face. She stared up at Zachariah, who gaped at her.
"How are you..."
"Alive?" Castiel whispered, voice low. "That's a good question. How did they," gesturing at Sam and Dean with her sword, "get on that airplane? Another good question. You certainly didn't do it. I think we both know who did."
"No," Zachariah protested, stepping back. "That's not possible."
"And yet, here I am." Castiel stepped off the corpse and approached Zachariah. "Put them back together and leave. I won't ask twice."
Zachariah disappeared, and Sam could suddenly breathe again. Sucking in air gratefully, he stared up at Cl - at Castiel, who looked back with such strange, young old eyes he had to avert his gaze. Pulling Dean to his feet seemed like a good alternative.
"Jeez, Cas," Dean muttered, looking at the angel with something like admiration, or maybe worry. "Way to make a guy feel inadequate."