My Silent Warrior
The prompt was "A deafened/muted/human Cas in Dean's clothing"
He knows I'm watching him, but I'm not a threat or a thing to confuse him any longer.
Now he doesn't even react to my scrutiny.
We're the same size, so he wears my clothing. For some reason, he's developed an attachment to the dark blue hoodie I originally stole from Sammy back when Sammy was about seven inches and G-d knows how many shirt sizes smaller. The coat he wears, though, over everything is Sam's brown one.
He loves food, though he won't ever drink anything stronger than beer. From his expression, I think he remembers how sick he felt after drinking a liquor store.
He can't speak anymore, but he knows how to sign and he's teaching Sammy how to do it better. He seemed amused that I knew how already, until I told him I'd been mute a long time as a kid and learned it then.
But it's the fact that he can't hear that's the biggest difference in him. He can't even hear things with his mind. Once he signed to me that he can't even remember what certain things sound like. Like his brothers' voices. Like the whisper of the wind in the trees.
Like my voice.
I'm slowly forgetting his, too.
We worried like hell about him -- until we were on our first hunt since he crashed back into our lives -- literally. Sammy and I were pinned, and then he was just -- there. My own guardian angel, on the job as usual.
Most of his angel mojo is gone -- removed with his hearing and speech. But he knows how to fight and he's damned good at it. He kicked ass -- not just the demon's but the stupid human asses who thought we would be easy marks.
We still worry -- but now he's with us. An equal partner in our hunts and our research.
A deaf angel in human clothes with a smile that will melt your heart.
My silent warrior.
He knows I'm watching him, but I'm not a threat or a thing to confuse him any longer.
Now he doesn't even react to my scrutiny.
We're the same size, so he wears my clothing. For some reason, he's developed an attachment to the dark blue hoodie I originally stole from Sammy back when Sammy was about seven inches and G-d knows how many shirt sizes smaller. The coat he wears, though, over everything is Sam's brown one.
He loves food, though he won't ever drink anything stronger than beer. From his expression, I think he remembers how sick he felt after drinking a liquor store.
He can't speak anymore, but he knows how to sign and he's teaching Sammy how to do it better. He seemed amused that I knew how already, until I told him I'd been mute a long time as a kid and learned it then.
But it's the fact that he can't hear that's the biggest difference in him. He can't even hear things with his mind. Once he signed to me that he can't even remember what certain things sound like. Like his brothers' voices. Like the whisper of the wind in the trees.
Like my voice.
I'm slowly forgetting his, too.
We worried like hell about him -- until we were on our first hunt since he crashed back into our lives -- literally. Sammy and I were pinned, and then he was just -- there. My own guardian angel, on the job as usual.
Most of his angel mojo is gone -- removed with his hearing and speech. But he knows how to fight and he's damned good at it. He kicked ass -- not just the demon's but the stupid human asses who thought we would be easy marks.
We still worry -- but now he's with us. An equal partner in our hunts and our research.
A deaf angel in human clothes with a smile that will melt your heart.
My silent warrior.