REMEMBER THE MEME and another WIP
REMEMBER MY LOVES, THE DEAN/CAS/SAM MEME GOES UP 8:00 EST TIME TONIGHT. :3 That way everyone has time for dinner and stuff.
More works-in-progress that probably won't get off the ground. This one is a darker Castiel-in-Wonderland, and this is a quick draft of the beginning scene.
P.S. I DON'T KNOW FRENCH OKAY. BUT I MEAN PLEASE DON'T HURT ME IF IT'S WRONG.
Castiel wakes up with a start in his bed. He doesn't remember his dream, but he's covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He sweeps his hand over his forehead and into his hair, freeing the rogue pieces that were caught to his forehead, trapped in the beads of sweat that had formed there.
It's raining.
He sighs and rolls over on his side, watching the shadows created from the light and the rain against his window. Rolling movements, the storm not letting up, rattling his window.
He reaches for the glass of water he always places next to his bed before he sleeps, and Castiel finds the note on it. don't drink, it says in slanted handwriting.
And that cold feeling creeps on you, the goosebumps when you realize someone's been here without your knowledge. Don't drink. Castiel toys with the sign, gently peeling it from the glass.
On the back it reads, the nightstand drawer.
Castiel scoffs, tries to brush off the uneasy feeling of something watching him from the dark. He puts the glass back on the top of the nightstand, carefully pulling out the drawer as to not make a sound. Inside is an envelope. to castiel, it reads on the front in the same handwriting.
Well. It's for him, isn't it? And it doesn't look dangerous. Castiel goes ahead and takes the chance. He takes a slender finger and hooks it underneath the sealed flap, drawing it across the top of the envelope and getting to the contents inside, which happen to be a small cassette tape that has a small piece of paper taped to it that reads play me and a note. Castiel picks up the tape and examines it for a few seconds, removing the small slip of paper before unfolding the note. player is in the drawer, it reads. He didn't know how he didn't see the handheld silver cassette player, but there it was, sitting there like it had always been there. (Or maybe it had. Is this a dream? Did he ever really wake up?)
Castiel makes sure to turn on a light before pressing play. Bonjour, mon petit garçon avec des ailes. The voice is a man's. I'm going to save your life.
Castiel almost drops the tape player.
There is no time for doubt. You need to listen and do what this tape says. First, I need you to get dressed. One of your suits. You'll need to look the part. Do that now.
He places the tape player on the nightstand beside the lamp, letting it play as he quickly grabs articles of clothing to force on.
They're already after you. You need to be quick.
"I'm going as fast as possible," he mutters to himself.
That's not fast enough.
Castiel does stop at that, and looks towards the tape for a few seconds. Okay. Um. Okay, moving on. We'll deal with that when he isn't rushing to get a suit on and panicking because apparently he's being pursued.
There's a key taped under your nightstand. It's important. Don't put it in a pocket, put it on a necklace. You'll need it. The suit you wear should hide it from view.
He grabs a discreet silver chain and fumbles under the nightstand, feeling the cold tang of metal against his fingers. Castiel easily rips the key free and with surprisingly stable hands puts it around the necklace and tucks it under his clothes.
They'll be coming soon. Remember, look for the clock. Follow the time. Tick-tock, Castiel. You need to find the Hatter and the Hare. Don't lose the key. Secrets are the most important thing you have.
Castiel slips his rumpled suit jacket on and grabs the glass because he's thirsty and not thinking--
And don't drink the water.
Shit. Shit. Castiel immediately drops the glass. It was only a small sip. It shouldn't do anything, it's not like he took a big gulp.
Put this in your inside jacket pocket. Replay it if you need to. The Caterpillar will need to see you. I'll be in touch. Au revoir.
The tape whirls as the message ends. Then, suddenly, another voice, a smooth, deep drawl -
The Gryphon knows the way. He'll know where to find us.
Castiel's head is swimming. Fuck. He shouldn't have had the water, but it was only a little sip, what kind of drug was so powerful?
Two sharp knocks at the door. Castiel shuts off the tape player and clumsily stuffs it into his inside jacket pocket. He looks around. Dammit. He's on the seventh floor. There's no way to escape and--
Hold on. That's his bedroom door. Not the door to the outside. Oh god.
"Come out, little angel boy," he hears a smooth accented voice say. "We've got an appointment to make, you and I."
Castiel gropes for the doorknob.
Waiting for him is a man in a suit. He's spot on, all the angles in all the right places. His black hair is neatly placed in line. "Good evening," he says, words in a smooth English accent. "Time to go."
Castiel looks curiously at him, tilting his head. "Go where?"
The man's smile never changes. "We're off to catch the White Rabbit."
"The…the who?" Castiel feels dizzy. This isn't right. This is bad.
The man turns on his heel and saunters forward. "We're already late, darling. Because if he's late," the man says, "then, if we're after him, we must be late as well."
Castiel lurches after him. "Wait…what are you talking…" and before he falls to the floor, the man catches him easily.
"I'm talking about Wonderland," the man with the English accent whispers in his ear. He gently places Castiel on the floor. "Time for you to wake up, I think. But for you to wake up, first you need to sleep." He takes out a syringe of something, taps it a few times. "Your medicine," he says, slipping the needle swiftly into Castiel's neck and pressing the plunger.
The man's cell rings. Castiel's already feeling drowsy. How is that possible? He takes it from his coat pocket and flips it open. "Hello, you've reached Mr. B at a most inopportune time." A pause. "My dear," he says, voice a bit more humbled. A longer pause. "Yes, I have him. No, no, he won't get lost." He grins down at Castiel, runs a finger down his cheek. "I believe you'll like him a great deal." A last pause. "Where did the Rabbit go this time? …I see. Thank you, my lovely. I'll see you soon."
The phone flips closed, and a grin slips onto his lips. "Time to go."
The last thing Castiel remembers is getting placed into a backseat that smells of antique shops and caramel. The car is sleek and black and quite spacious on the inside. Another loud slam as Mr. B gets in the car, a smaller click to indicate his seat belt.
And this is how Castiel travels down the rabbit hole, confused, drugged, trying to fight off sleep as he watches the street lamps pass by the car window.
More works-in-progress that probably won't get off the ground. This one is a darker Castiel-in-Wonderland, and this is a quick draft of the beginning scene.
P.S. I DON'T KNOW FRENCH OKAY. BUT I MEAN PLEASE DON'T HURT ME IF IT'S WRONG.
Castiel wakes up with a start in his bed. He doesn't remember his dream, but he's covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He sweeps his hand over his forehead and into his hair, freeing the rogue pieces that were caught to his forehead, trapped in the beads of sweat that had formed there.
It's raining.
He sighs and rolls over on his side, watching the shadows created from the light and the rain against his window. Rolling movements, the storm not letting up, rattling his window.
He reaches for the glass of water he always places next to his bed before he sleeps, and Castiel finds the note on it. don't drink, it says in slanted handwriting.
And that cold feeling creeps on you, the goosebumps when you realize someone's been here without your knowledge. Don't drink. Castiel toys with the sign, gently peeling it from the glass.
On the back it reads, the nightstand drawer.
Castiel scoffs, tries to brush off the uneasy feeling of something watching him from the dark. He puts the glass back on the top of the nightstand, carefully pulling out the drawer as to not make a sound. Inside is an envelope. to castiel, it reads on the front in the same handwriting.
Well. It's for him, isn't it? And it doesn't look dangerous. Castiel goes ahead and takes the chance. He takes a slender finger and hooks it underneath the sealed flap, drawing it across the top of the envelope and getting to the contents inside, which happen to be a small cassette tape that has a small piece of paper taped to it that reads play me and a note. Castiel picks up the tape and examines it for a few seconds, removing the small slip of paper before unfolding the note. player is in the drawer, it reads. He didn't know how he didn't see the handheld silver cassette player, but there it was, sitting there like it had always been there. (Or maybe it had. Is this a dream? Did he ever really wake up?)
Castiel makes sure to turn on a light before pressing play. Bonjour, mon petit garçon avec des ailes. The voice is a man's. I'm going to save your life.
Castiel almost drops the tape player.
There is no time for doubt. You need to listen and do what this tape says. First, I need you to get dressed. One of your suits. You'll need to look the part. Do that now.
He places the tape player on the nightstand beside the lamp, letting it play as he quickly grabs articles of clothing to force on.
They're already after you. You need to be quick.
"I'm going as fast as possible," he mutters to himself.
That's not fast enough.
Castiel does stop at that, and looks towards the tape for a few seconds. Okay. Um. Okay, moving on. We'll deal with that when he isn't rushing to get a suit on and panicking because apparently he's being pursued.
There's a key taped under your nightstand. It's important. Don't put it in a pocket, put it on a necklace. You'll need it. The suit you wear should hide it from view.
He grabs a discreet silver chain and fumbles under the nightstand, feeling the cold tang of metal against his fingers. Castiel easily rips the key free and with surprisingly stable hands puts it around the necklace and tucks it under his clothes.
They'll be coming soon. Remember, look for the clock. Follow the time. Tick-tock, Castiel. You need to find the Hatter and the Hare. Don't lose the key. Secrets are the most important thing you have.
Castiel slips his rumpled suit jacket on and grabs the glass because he's thirsty and not thinking--
And don't drink the water.
Shit. Shit. Castiel immediately drops the glass. It was only a small sip. It shouldn't do anything, it's not like he took a big gulp.
Put this in your inside jacket pocket. Replay it if you need to. The Caterpillar will need to see you. I'll be in touch. Au revoir.
The tape whirls as the message ends. Then, suddenly, another voice, a smooth, deep drawl -
The Gryphon knows the way. He'll know where to find us.
Castiel's head is swimming. Fuck. He shouldn't have had the water, but it was only a little sip, what kind of drug was so powerful?
Two sharp knocks at the door. Castiel shuts off the tape player and clumsily stuffs it into his inside jacket pocket. He looks around. Dammit. He's on the seventh floor. There's no way to escape and--
Hold on. That's his bedroom door. Not the door to the outside. Oh god.
"Come out, little angel boy," he hears a smooth accented voice say. "We've got an appointment to make, you and I."
Castiel gropes for the doorknob.
Waiting for him is a man in a suit. He's spot on, all the angles in all the right places. His black hair is neatly placed in line. "Good evening," he says, words in a smooth English accent. "Time to go."
Castiel looks curiously at him, tilting his head. "Go where?"
The man's smile never changes. "We're off to catch the White Rabbit."
"The…the who?" Castiel feels dizzy. This isn't right. This is bad.
The man turns on his heel and saunters forward. "We're already late, darling. Because if he's late," the man says, "then, if we're after him, we must be late as well."
Castiel lurches after him. "Wait…what are you talking…" and before he falls to the floor, the man catches him easily.
"I'm talking about Wonderland," the man with the English accent whispers in his ear. He gently places Castiel on the floor. "Time for you to wake up, I think. But for you to wake up, first you need to sleep." He takes out a syringe of something, taps it a few times. "Your medicine," he says, slipping the needle swiftly into Castiel's neck and pressing the plunger.
The man's cell rings. Castiel's already feeling drowsy. How is that possible? He takes it from his coat pocket and flips it open. "Hello, you've reached Mr. B at a most inopportune time." A pause. "My dear," he says, voice a bit more humbled. A longer pause. "Yes, I have him. No, no, he won't get lost." He grins down at Castiel, runs a finger down his cheek. "I believe you'll like him a great deal." A last pause. "Where did the Rabbit go this time? …I see. Thank you, my lovely. I'll see you soon."
The phone flips closed, and a grin slips onto his lips. "Time to go."
The last thing Castiel remembers is getting placed into a backseat that smells of antique shops and caramel. The car is sleek and black and quite spacious on the inside. Another loud slam as Mr. B gets in the car, a smaller click to indicate his seat belt.
And this is how Castiel travels down the rabbit hole, confused, drugged, trying to fight off sleep as he watches the street lamps pass by the car window.