Drowning 3/7/12

Apr 30, 2012 12:20



Muffled noises surround the void, it’s not empty, but there’s nothing solid. Nothing to grasp on to, nothing’s there. Nothing. Darkness. Unnatural, cold, enveloping darkness. Then a weight, a crushing weight. Ribs are cracking, lungs can’t expand or contract. They’re frozen in a ribcage, surrounded by clenching muscles and skin that’s turned to ice. A voice growls in the darkness, waterlogged and inescapable; “We will demolish everything you have worked so hard to protect, and you will be nothing by the time we’ve finished.” Castiel lurches awake, hitting his head on the roof of the Impala. What was that? Angels don’t dream. And they certainly don’t sleep. “Morning sunshine!” Dean chimes sarcastically. The sun glares and gleams against the polished interior. Castiel has always admired the pristine nature of this car, how Dean is over come with the need to keep it exactly how it was when it was fresh off the line. He looks deeper into Dean’s soul and sees the need to control, protect, maintain this car, his car. Dean’s always been like this, since his mother died. Castiel has watched him grow up, protecting and saving everyone and everything he could. Sacrificing himself at any opportunity he could. Castiel remembers when he went down into the pits and gripped Dean, and raised him. Remembers piecing him together again from the shredded remains that he had carried out. He remembers every corner of Dean, knows he will never forget. Dean is the only human he’s ever seen that Castiel actually admires. Castiel always found humans… beautiful, a creation of his father, but he didn’t understand them. Dean was different, selfless, rarely doing a thing for himself besides the occasional indulgence in vice, but he was always looking out for his family. Castiel can relate. Maybe that’s why he was planning this entire thing. He knew it would hurt these humans, knew it would probably destroy him. But he had to, for Dean’s sake. Castiel kept chewing over these thoughts as the Impala hummed down Interstate 70.

***

Months later, Castiel's plan had come to full fruition. It was a moment of triumph, followed by a moment of weakness. Castiel looked into the mirror of the old, musty, drab motel room. He stared at the creature in front of him, swearing his eyes were just too strained from the effort of his new job. The weight of the world was literally on his shoulders and that was what was warping his image in the cheap motel mirror. That was all. He just needed some time to rest. But there was no time yet. Soon, very soon, he would walk into a hotel room and find his family sitting there, and he would explain it all. Explain how he did it all for them. For their family.

It’s been weeks, possibly months. Or was it a year? Castiel couldn’t be bothered to keep track, too much business. He knows the end is near. He’s been working too hard. He’s been having that dream. The one he had so long ago in the back seat of the Impala. He doesn’t know what it means, or if it’s a dream at all. He reminds himself angels don’t dream. And neither does he. He brushes it off as more stress and goes on with his work. Too much to do to worry about petty dreams… if that’s what they are.

***

It’s later now, much later. Castiel’s lost all concept of time. He can’t fathom a guess at how long it’s been. But he’s standing in front of Dean now, his Dean. He’s begging for help but doesn’t know much more. There’s something wrong. He can’t handle this anymore. The next few… minutes, or hours, or days, Castiel doesn’t know. But he’s having that dream again. No. Not this time. This time it’s all real. And he can’t see Dean anymore. And he can’t see anything anymore. And it has all come to an end. He knows what the voice will say. He’s prepared an answer. It snarls out the words Castiel has heard hundreds of times over the last few months. This time, Castiel answers bubbling out with as much passion as possible, taking in gulps of water with every syllable. “No. It’s not over. I won’t let you touch them, and when I come back, I’m going to demolish all of your race with all the fires and fury of heaven and hell.” With that, Castiel , down, to the bottom, drowning in the remorse, the pain, the emotions. All of his feelings and thoughts weighing in more on him than the water, crushing his vessel’s lungs and body. One more thought crossed his mind. “I’ll make it up to you Dean.” Then he was gone.

leviathan!cas, supernatural, castiel, spn, godstiel, cas, dean winchester, destiel

Previous post Next post
Up