28 Days, 6 Hours, 42 Minutes and 12 Seconds till the Apocalypse. Part 4/6
Title: 28 Days, 6 Hours, 42 Minutes and 12 Seconds till the Apocalypse
Author: ravensilverwing
Rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: Castiel/Dean, Sam, Anna, Zachariah, Raphael.
Spoilers: Up to and including 5x03.
Warnings: Sex, nudity, swearing, character death. If you’ve watched Donnie Darko you’ll know what I mean. If you haven’t, don’t freak out too much. But this isn’t exactly a happy holiday movie.
Word Count: 22,800
Summary:
My prompt, given by devilyouwere, was: SPN/Donnie Darko fusion. Um, I really don't know :) I just want to see it badly. Approach it how you will. Would prefer Castiel as Donnie, though.
So... Donnie is Castiel. He’s hearing voices. Everyone thinks he’s crazy cause he burnt down Alastair’s house. Everyone except the new boy in town, Dean. Zachariah’s a smug bastard giving inspirational speeches about ‘accepting your destiny’. But Castiel doesn’t want to accept his destiny, he wants to figure out what’s going on and stop the world from ending.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three
Part Four
The whispers have been hovering. Bare hints at the edge of my hearing. Raphael is silent. I haven’t heard anything more from him. Nothing but silence since I saw the wallet. Wallet I’m trying to forget. Zachariah Silverman may deserve it but no, I’m not going to do anything. I’m going to pretend I never saw the address. Pretend I don’t know which wide, large house he lives in. Precise, pristine green lawn. Expensive Jag in the driveway.
It wasn’t like this when I burnt down Alastair’s house. That time I just woke up standing in a room. Room that smelt like gasoline. Smoke all around. And I had to get out. Get out before it burnt down around me. Then I was running, followed by darkness. I woke up back home. I thought it was a nightmare. Just another nightmare till the police were hammering on the door. Someone saw me heading into the house that night, saw me carrying the gasoline.
I was arrested and sent for judgement. Sent away to jail. Six months in detention. Six months, then the voices started.
If this is Raphael’s master plan I want no part of it. I won’t take part in brining the world to an end.
***
Charlie is reading her story tonight. It’s talent night at our high school but I’ve been banned. No after school activities. Not exactly a harsh punishment for being rude to a teacher but I’d have liked to be there. Sit in the audience for Charlene. But Mom and Sam will be there. Sam’s even taking a friend.
Dean doesn’t have any reason to go. I’m sure he’d sleep right through it like he does our gym class video’s. Even if he wouldn’t mean to. The lights go dim, a video goes on and Dean just drifts off till the end.
***
“Your Mom actually let you stay out tonight?” Dean’s asking.
Shrug and dump my bag on the end of his bed.
“I told her your Dad was home.”
“You lied?” Eyebrow raised and he’s actually laughing.
Blush.
“Well you said...”
“Yeah but...” Slight hint of hesitation. “I mean, he says he’s coming home tonight but I don’t know. Sometimes he gets caught up at work.”
“He’s a travelling salesman.” Frown in disbelief.
His head ducks and he looks away.
“Yeah.” His voice comes out flat, unhappy.
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Pause uncertain. “I mean, my father’s dead.” Shrug.
“No.” And he meets my eyes again. “It’s just...” But he trails off and doesn’t speak.
“Dean...”
But he looks away.
“How about some food?” He offers after a moment.
Nod and follow him down to the kitchen.
***
Kissing, groping, grinding. We’re like a pair of animals. Not that I’m complaining. Dean’s hand is already touching...groan. His hand already wrapped around... I don’t know where our clothes have gone. Kicked over the side of his bed, thrown over his laptop. It was Dean’s idea to watch pornography. One tall, broad shouldered buff guy, an anonymous blonde and a hotel bed. It lasted no longer than two minutes. Sitting side by side watching his computer, sitting relaxed at the head of his bed. Dean’s hand rubbing against the bulge behind his zipper.
Two minutes and I had to help him. And it was easy to slide my hand in this time. Not too tight from the cold and wet. Easy to push inside his boxers to skin. So much heat. Easy to stroke along the side of it, pull him free as he shoved his jeans and underwear out of the way. Easier to find an angle that worked. Easier to find a rhythm. Easier for everything.
Easier till he rolled over and shattered my focus. Suddenly pinned me to the bed.
Now our clothes are missing and he’s slowly moving downward. Bypassing nipples to breathe a kiss against my stomach, navel, lower. Swallow hard and try not to shove up from where he’s placed me on the bed. Hard to stay still. Hard to stay focussed, not reach out and grab at him.
Watch as his eyes roll up to watch me, hands trailing down the inside of my thighs, pushing them wider. Remember to breathe, not get lost as his mouth slides over. Soft lips, wet heat just over the head. There’s a sudden hitch in my breath. Suction and I’m thrusting, back arching off the bed. My hips shoving and he takes in everything. Eyes closing to slide down, sucking, always sucking. Pauses at the bottom then slides back up.
I can’t, I’m going to...Curse, whine. But his hands grab mine where they’ve fisted in the bed. Anchoring, holding tightly. His eyes open, mouth just holding me inside him. Pant and try to lay still, just stay still and not thrust again. Then his tongue rolls over the head.
“Dean!” Buck and thrust into him.
A moment of bliss before he waits again.
“I can’t, Jesus, Dean, I’m going to...”
His mouth slides off.
“Just trust me.” He’s asking.
Groan and Christ, I’m shaking. Nod sharply, feel his fingers slide under my palms, making me hold onto him. He runs his lips over the head once, then again.
“Trust me.”
“Okay.” Even my voice is shaking.
His mouth is soft, tongue moving slowly. He’s not sucking just sliding slowly, lips inching down on me. Down, then up, repeating it slowly. His eyes closing as I moan quietly. I’m not sure I should watch him. Watch my cock slide down, vanish inside his mouth. But closing my eyes is harder. No more anchoring. Only his hands and fingers gently stroking. But it’s not quite enough. Not enough to stop me rocking, grinding up as he starts softly sucking. Buck and his hands grip me hard, tight. Pain and it’s a shock. Enough to make me stop.
Sag back against the bed and let him do everything, anything he wants to me. Mouth still sliding but not as slow now. Tongue teasing as he reaches the top. Barest hint of too much before he’s going back down again.
He sucks hard and my knees lock. It’s probably a good thing his body is pressing them open, elbows leaning over my hips. Thrust up and he just takes it, slides his mouth right down my cock and now we’re both moaning. His eyes closed, mouth sucking. My hips snapping up. This time he’s not trying to stop me. He lets me give in to his mouth sucking on my cock.
White starting to sparkle at the edge of my vision, hips continuously thrusting up. Up, down. And his mouth just continues to suck. Soft tongue deftly stroking. And I can’t, I’m babbling, I’m desperate. But this time I know he’s not going to stop.
His fingers holding mine are stroking, tiny incoherent patterns of back and forwards and up. Back down, his mouth’s so slick now. Slick, fast and sliding.
“Dean.” Pant. Try to tell him. “God.” Heels digging into his back. His mouth just moves on me faster. “I can’t...” But I’m already coming. Exploding. “Jesus.” The world is sparkling. Cause he’s swallowing. Swallowing everything down.
Sink back finally, slumping.
“Dean...” Can’t breathe, I’m just panting. “Dean...” Groan. “Fuck.”
***
He’s still hard as he slides back up the bed. Hard, hot but kissing gently. Tastes of salt, semen. I have, I know my own taste. Every guy tries it. But mixed with Dean, it’s enough to make me want to do this again. Right now. Except my cock is too sensitive. But Dean on the other hand...Wrap my hand around him and push against his shoulders. I want to try this. Want to know what he tastes like. If he tastes like me. If what he did is as easy as he made it look.
I know that’s unlikely. I’m not stupid. Sucking cock isn’t like pornography. Can’t be as easy as Dean made it look. But I still want to try it. Want to try everything. Swallow hard. Maybe not everything right now, but later. Some other day later. Maybe we’ll get another night together.
“You don’t have to...”
“Dean.” Look down at him. “Shut up.”
He’s blinking but his hips are restless.
“Just let me.” Smirk.
He’s already breathing hard.
“Alright but don’t try and do that.” Watch his face rush crimson.
Slide down to lick his chest.
“What?” Look up and try to look innocent. As innocent as he seems to think I am.
I may not have done any of this but it’s not like I haven’t thought about it, watched it on video.
He tries to look serious but he’s already smiling.
“Don’t even try to deep throat.”
Sink teeth into his right nipple. Feel him hiss into the tiny pain.
“I wasn’t planning on it.” Smile against his skin.
“I think I’m a bad influence on you.”
“You really think I’m an angel?” My mouth is hovering over his cock.
His face clouds over.
“Cas, you’re still a virgin. I’m definitely not. So yeah, I think you’re practically an angel. Sue me.”
Glare and lick the head of him.
“Jesus.”Watch his eyes squeeze shut.
He doesn’t taste that much different. Maybe more acidic. Run my mouth over his cock. Maybe less like salt but essentially the same. And from here the texture’s different, smooth soft skin over tight, hard...Watch Dean shudder and groan. Flick my eyes back up, the slick weeping head of his cock moving under my tongue.
“Fuck.” He’s hissing softly. “Just.” He sags back. “Do whatever you want.”
I want to suck his cock but it is intimidating. He’s thicker than I realised. Easy to suck the head into my mouth but harder to suck him down. Barely an inch past the head and I’m gagging. Hastily pull back up.
Dean is panting.
“Just...just...”
Suck him back in and rub my tongue over the head.
“Oh...” A groan.
Move down slowly, my hand sliding up. Keep on sucking as I start to stroke him but it’s harder to keep a rhythm.
“Just.” His hand on the back of my head. “Don’t over think it.” He sounds so breathless. “Just...”
Stroke over him with my tongue, softly, slowly suck.
“Yes.” Moaning. “Just like that.”
It’s hard to swallow and keep moving but he seems to like it. My mouth tightening, tongue pressing him to the top. Against the roof of my mouth, just before my throat. Trying to be careful of teeth but it doesn’t seem to bother him. Shifting back and forward that small inch. Pulling back completely then parting my mouth slowly over his cock, pushing him in slowly. Tongue darting out, coating the head with salty pre-come.
His hips start rocking restless, careful fingers tightening in my hair.
“Cas, you...” Moaning softly.
Suck harder, move a little faster. Watch his head fall back, his bottom lip falling victim to his teeth.
“Might want to...”
Keep on moving even though my jaw is aching.
“...to...”
Push my tongue hard into the top, a rhythm of tongue and sucking. His hips jolt.
“...to...”
His fingers pressing me closer. Slide a little lower. He’s working closer to my throat.
“Cas...” Groaning. Shifting in and out now, so that all I can do is suck.
Swallow and he cries out.
“Cas...going to...”
He’s trying to warn me. Suck harder, I don’t want to stop now. Then suddenly he’s pulsing, coming directing down my throat.
Swallow and keep on swallowing. His hand is pushing me to him but I could move back, I could pull off, could simply stop. But I don’t want to.
He tastes almost exactly the same and there’s a lot. Spilling past my lips, over my chin. He’s slumping backwards and his hand suddenly drops.
“Shit! Cas. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He’s already sitting up.
Slide up and grab his shoulder, pull him closer and kiss his mouth. Brief kiss before he stops me.
“I’m...” He looks so worried.
“I wanted to.” Cutting him off.
“You didn’t have...” Hazel eyes staring into me.
“What part of I wanted to is unclear?”
It looks like he’s in shock. Sigh and kiss him softly.
“Seriously, you didn’t have to do that.” He continues to protest.
Fall back onto the bed beside him.
He only glares and shifts on top of me.
“I’m being serious. You didn’t have to...” Make a sound of protest. “Not that I’m complaining.” And he’s grinning again. “I’m just making a point.”
***
The smell of gasoline is the first thing to hit me. Gasoline, then the heat from the flame of the lighter between my fingertips. This isn’t real. I’m asleep in bed and Dean is behind me. I couldn’t have snuck out. Dean would have heard me. Dean would have stopped me. I can’t be here right now. Not possible, just breathe in deeply. Gas fumes. Another wave of gasoline assails me.
Feel my heart start racing.
This isn’t real. I’m not here.
Step back, stumble, the lighter falls. Watch it hit the wooden floor. But it’s automatically extinguished. Stare at it. My heart pounding.
Not real, not real. Turn slowly. The floor and walls are covered. Glistening, slickly wet. The whispers pick up and start a symphony.
Gone. He’s gone. There’s no point. Tired. So tired. Just end it.
Wailing, crying, desperate.
Try to find a way out but instead I find a painting. Zachariah smiling down. Assessing, patronizing, condescending. Smug confidence. Such a lying son of a bitch. He thinks he knows everything. Thinks he knows about destiny, how it’s a wonderful beautiful thing. Reach down and pick up the lighter.
Or maybe I’m just confused. Snicker and smile up at him. Maybe I should just embrace my destiny.
Light the painting and watch the flames spread. Up his perfect, tailored suit. Across his waist and up his chest.
He’s so sure destiny is such a good thing. That I should just top struggling. Stop hurting those around me. Smile as his face bursts into flames. I hope he likes what I’ve done to the place.
***
It’s all over the news when I get home the next morning.
‘...fire crew has only just finished putting out a house fire...’
‘Fire at Zachariah Silverman’s house...’
‘...the authorities are not ruling out arson...’
‘Police on site have reported finding a hidden room.’
‘...what can only be described as a hidden torture chamber...’
‘...satanic ritual...’
‘...blood all over the walls...’
News reports flashing up images of fire damage. Zachariah in hand cuffs, protesting he doesn’t know what’s going on. That the last thing he remembers was two months ago. Fire truck on his perfect lawn. White circle with familiar symbols, angel sigils, painted on a smoke blackened wall.
What...I can’t...That makes no sense. Then it starts to sink in.
It was real. I was there. I did that.
Voices circling. Ecstasy. Wistful wailing.
I was there. I was really there. I did...I...Feel my bag drop. Hear it slam onto the floor.
“Cas?” Sam’s calling from the kitchen.
Bend and scrabble to pick it up again. I need to get out. He can’t see me. I have to get away.
Bend down but barely feel the canvas. The whispers are rushing. Rapturous. Rising. A delighted cacophony of sound.
Pick up the bag. Back out of the living room. Upstairs. Retreat to my bedroom.
Upstairs and I push the door shut.
Breathe. Push down nausea. Don’t be sick. My hands are shaking. Legs weak. My whole body shaking.
Fuck.
It was real. I did...I did that. Lit another fire. Burnt another house down. Another house with a hidden chamber. Feel my body drop. I’m going...they’re going to find me.
I’ll go back to jail.
Feel myself start to rock. This isn’t, this can’t be happening.
***
Part Five
Author: ravensilverwing
Rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: Castiel/Dean, Sam, Anna, Zachariah, Raphael.
Spoilers: Up to and including 5x03.
Warnings: Sex, nudity, swearing, character death. If you’ve watched Donnie Darko you’ll know what I mean. If you haven’t, don’t freak out too much. But this isn’t exactly a happy holiday movie.
Word Count: 22,800
Summary:
My prompt, given by devilyouwere, was: SPN/Donnie Darko fusion. Um, I really don't know :) I just want to see it badly. Approach it how you will. Would prefer Castiel as Donnie, though.
So... Donnie is Castiel. He’s hearing voices. Everyone thinks he’s crazy cause he burnt down Alastair’s house. Everyone except the new boy in town, Dean. Zachariah’s a smug bastard giving inspirational speeches about ‘accepting your destiny’. But Castiel doesn’t want to accept his destiny, he wants to figure out what’s going on and stop the world from ending.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three
Part Four
The whispers have been hovering. Bare hints at the edge of my hearing. Raphael is silent. I haven’t heard anything more from him. Nothing but silence since I saw the wallet. Wallet I’m trying to forget. Zachariah Silverman may deserve it but no, I’m not going to do anything. I’m going to pretend I never saw the address. Pretend I don’t know which wide, large house he lives in. Precise, pristine green lawn. Expensive Jag in the driveway.
It wasn’t like this when I burnt down Alastair’s house. That time I just woke up standing in a room. Room that smelt like gasoline. Smoke all around. And I had to get out. Get out before it burnt down around me. Then I was running, followed by darkness. I woke up back home. I thought it was a nightmare. Just another nightmare till the police were hammering on the door. Someone saw me heading into the house that night, saw me carrying the gasoline.
I was arrested and sent for judgement. Sent away to jail. Six months in detention. Six months, then the voices started.
If this is Raphael’s master plan I want no part of it. I won’t take part in brining the world to an end.
***
Charlie is reading her story tonight. It’s talent night at our high school but I’ve been banned. No after school activities. Not exactly a harsh punishment for being rude to a teacher but I’d have liked to be there. Sit in the audience for Charlene. But Mom and Sam will be there. Sam’s even taking a friend.
Dean doesn’t have any reason to go. I’m sure he’d sleep right through it like he does our gym class video’s. Even if he wouldn’t mean to. The lights go dim, a video goes on and Dean just drifts off till the end.
***
“Your Mom actually let you stay out tonight?” Dean’s asking.
Shrug and dump my bag on the end of his bed.
“I told her your Dad was home.”
“You lied?” Eyebrow raised and he’s actually laughing.
Blush.
“Well you said...”
“Yeah but...” Slight hint of hesitation. “I mean, he says he’s coming home tonight but I don’t know. Sometimes he gets caught up at work.”
“He’s a travelling salesman.” Frown in disbelief.
His head ducks and he looks away.
“Yeah.” His voice comes out flat, unhappy.
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Pause uncertain. “I mean, my father’s dead.” Shrug.
“No.” And he meets my eyes again. “It’s just...” But he trails off and doesn’t speak.
“Dean...”
But he looks away.
“How about some food?” He offers after a moment.
Nod and follow him down to the kitchen.
***
Kissing, groping, grinding. We’re like a pair of animals. Not that I’m complaining. Dean’s hand is already touching...groan. His hand already wrapped around... I don’t know where our clothes have gone. Kicked over the side of his bed, thrown over his laptop. It was Dean’s idea to watch pornography. One tall, broad shouldered buff guy, an anonymous blonde and a hotel bed. It lasted no longer than two minutes. Sitting side by side watching his computer, sitting relaxed at the head of his bed. Dean’s hand rubbing against the bulge behind his zipper.
Two minutes and I had to help him. And it was easy to slide my hand in this time. Not too tight from the cold and wet. Easy to push inside his boxers to skin. So much heat. Easy to stroke along the side of it, pull him free as he shoved his jeans and underwear out of the way. Easier to find an angle that worked. Easier to find a rhythm. Easier for everything.
Easier till he rolled over and shattered my focus. Suddenly pinned me to the bed.
Now our clothes are missing and he’s slowly moving downward. Bypassing nipples to breathe a kiss against my stomach, navel, lower. Swallow hard and try not to shove up from where he’s placed me on the bed. Hard to stay still. Hard to stay focussed, not reach out and grab at him.
Watch as his eyes roll up to watch me, hands trailing down the inside of my thighs, pushing them wider. Remember to breathe, not get lost as his mouth slides over. Soft lips, wet heat just over the head. There’s a sudden hitch in my breath. Suction and I’m thrusting, back arching off the bed. My hips shoving and he takes in everything. Eyes closing to slide down, sucking, always sucking. Pauses at the bottom then slides back up.
I can’t, I’m going to...Curse, whine. But his hands grab mine where they’ve fisted in the bed. Anchoring, holding tightly. His eyes open, mouth just holding me inside him. Pant and try to lay still, just stay still and not thrust again. Then his tongue rolls over the head.
“Dean!” Buck and thrust into him.
A moment of bliss before he waits again.
“I can’t, Jesus, Dean, I’m going to...”
His mouth slides off.
“Just trust me.” He’s asking.
Groan and Christ, I’m shaking. Nod sharply, feel his fingers slide under my palms, making me hold onto him. He runs his lips over the head once, then again.
“Trust me.”
“Okay.” Even my voice is shaking.
His mouth is soft, tongue moving slowly. He’s not sucking just sliding slowly, lips inching down on me. Down, then up, repeating it slowly. His eyes closing as I moan quietly. I’m not sure I should watch him. Watch my cock slide down, vanish inside his mouth. But closing my eyes is harder. No more anchoring. Only his hands and fingers gently stroking. But it’s not quite enough. Not enough to stop me rocking, grinding up as he starts softly sucking. Buck and his hands grip me hard, tight. Pain and it’s a shock. Enough to make me stop.
Sag back against the bed and let him do everything, anything he wants to me. Mouth still sliding but not as slow now. Tongue teasing as he reaches the top. Barest hint of too much before he’s going back down again.
He sucks hard and my knees lock. It’s probably a good thing his body is pressing them open, elbows leaning over my hips. Thrust up and he just takes it, slides his mouth right down my cock and now we’re both moaning. His eyes closed, mouth sucking. My hips snapping up. This time he’s not trying to stop me. He lets me give in to his mouth sucking on my cock.
White starting to sparkle at the edge of my vision, hips continuously thrusting up. Up, down. And his mouth just continues to suck. Soft tongue deftly stroking. And I can’t, I’m babbling, I’m desperate. But this time I know he’s not going to stop.
His fingers holding mine are stroking, tiny incoherent patterns of back and forwards and up. Back down, his mouth’s so slick now. Slick, fast and sliding.
“Dean.” Pant. Try to tell him. “God.” Heels digging into his back. His mouth just moves on me faster. “I can’t...” But I’m already coming. Exploding. “Jesus.” The world is sparkling. Cause he’s swallowing. Swallowing everything down.
Sink back finally, slumping.
“Dean...” Can’t breathe, I’m just panting. “Dean...” Groan. “Fuck.”
***
He’s still hard as he slides back up the bed. Hard, hot but kissing gently. Tastes of salt, semen. I have, I know my own taste. Every guy tries it. But mixed with Dean, it’s enough to make me want to do this again. Right now. Except my cock is too sensitive. But Dean on the other hand...Wrap my hand around him and push against his shoulders. I want to try this. Want to know what he tastes like. If he tastes like me. If what he did is as easy as he made it look.
I know that’s unlikely. I’m not stupid. Sucking cock isn’t like pornography. Can’t be as easy as Dean made it look. But I still want to try it. Want to try everything. Swallow hard. Maybe not everything right now, but later. Some other day later. Maybe we’ll get another night together.
“You don’t have to...”
“Dean.” Look down at him. “Shut up.”
He’s blinking but his hips are restless.
“Just let me.” Smirk.
He’s already breathing hard.
“Alright but don’t try and do that.” Watch his face rush crimson.
Slide down to lick his chest.
“What?” Look up and try to look innocent. As innocent as he seems to think I am.
I may not have done any of this but it’s not like I haven’t thought about it, watched it on video.
He tries to look serious but he’s already smiling.
“Don’t even try to deep throat.”
Sink teeth into his right nipple. Feel him hiss into the tiny pain.
“I wasn’t planning on it.” Smile against his skin.
“I think I’m a bad influence on you.”
“You really think I’m an angel?” My mouth is hovering over his cock.
His face clouds over.
“Cas, you’re still a virgin. I’m definitely not. So yeah, I think you’re practically an angel. Sue me.”
Glare and lick the head of him.
“Jesus.”Watch his eyes squeeze shut.
He doesn’t taste that much different. Maybe more acidic. Run my mouth over his cock. Maybe less like salt but essentially the same. And from here the texture’s different, smooth soft skin over tight, hard...Watch Dean shudder and groan. Flick my eyes back up, the slick weeping head of his cock moving under my tongue.
“Fuck.” He’s hissing softly. “Just.” He sags back. “Do whatever you want.”
I want to suck his cock but it is intimidating. He’s thicker than I realised. Easy to suck the head into my mouth but harder to suck him down. Barely an inch past the head and I’m gagging. Hastily pull back up.
Dean is panting.
“Just...just...”
Suck him back in and rub my tongue over the head.
“Oh...” A groan.
Move down slowly, my hand sliding up. Keep on sucking as I start to stroke him but it’s harder to keep a rhythm.
“Just.” His hand on the back of my head. “Don’t over think it.” He sounds so breathless. “Just...”
Stroke over him with my tongue, softly, slowly suck.
“Yes.” Moaning. “Just like that.”
It’s hard to swallow and keep moving but he seems to like it. My mouth tightening, tongue pressing him to the top. Against the roof of my mouth, just before my throat. Trying to be careful of teeth but it doesn’t seem to bother him. Shifting back and forward that small inch. Pulling back completely then parting my mouth slowly over his cock, pushing him in slowly. Tongue darting out, coating the head with salty pre-come.
His hips start rocking restless, careful fingers tightening in my hair.
“Cas, you...” Moaning softly.
Suck harder, move a little faster. Watch his head fall back, his bottom lip falling victim to his teeth.
“Might want to...”
Keep on moving even though my jaw is aching.
“...to...”
Push my tongue hard into the top, a rhythm of tongue and sucking. His hips jolt.
“...to...”
His fingers pressing me closer. Slide a little lower. He’s working closer to my throat.
“Cas...” Groaning. Shifting in and out now, so that all I can do is suck.
Swallow and he cries out.
“Cas...going to...”
He’s trying to warn me. Suck harder, I don’t want to stop now. Then suddenly he’s pulsing, coming directing down my throat.
Swallow and keep on swallowing. His hand is pushing me to him but I could move back, I could pull off, could simply stop. But I don’t want to.
He tastes almost exactly the same and there’s a lot. Spilling past my lips, over my chin. He’s slumping backwards and his hand suddenly drops.
“Shit! Cas. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He’s already sitting up.
Slide up and grab his shoulder, pull him closer and kiss his mouth. Brief kiss before he stops me.
“I’m...” He looks so worried.
“I wanted to.” Cutting him off.
“You didn’t have...” Hazel eyes staring into me.
“What part of I wanted to is unclear?”
It looks like he’s in shock. Sigh and kiss him softly.
“Seriously, you didn’t have to do that.” He continues to protest.
Fall back onto the bed beside him.
He only glares and shifts on top of me.
“I’m being serious. You didn’t have to...” Make a sound of protest. “Not that I’m complaining.” And he’s grinning again. “I’m just making a point.”
***
The smell of gasoline is the first thing to hit me. Gasoline, then the heat from the flame of the lighter between my fingertips. This isn’t real. I’m asleep in bed and Dean is behind me. I couldn’t have snuck out. Dean would have heard me. Dean would have stopped me. I can’t be here right now. Not possible, just breathe in deeply. Gas fumes. Another wave of gasoline assails me.
Feel my heart start racing.
This isn’t real. I’m not here.
Step back, stumble, the lighter falls. Watch it hit the wooden floor. But it’s automatically extinguished. Stare at it. My heart pounding.
Not real, not real. Turn slowly. The floor and walls are covered. Glistening, slickly wet. The whispers pick up and start a symphony.
Gone. He’s gone. There’s no point. Tired. So tired. Just end it.
Wailing, crying, desperate.
Try to find a way out but instead I find a painting. Zachariah smiling down. Assessing, patronizing, condescending. Smug confidence. Such a lying son of a bitch. He thinks he knows everything. Thinks he knows about destiny, how it’s a wonderful beautiful thing. Reach down and pick up the lighter.
Or maybe I’m just confused. Snicker and smile up at him. Maybe I should just embrace my destiny.
Light the painting and watch the flames spread. Up his perfect, tailored suit. Across his waist and up his chest.
He’s so sure destiny is such a good thing. That I should just top struggling. Stop hurting those around me. Smile as his face bursts into flames. I hope he likes what I’ve done to the place.
***
It’s all over the news when I get home the next morning.
‘...fire crew has only just finished putting out a house fire...’
‘Fire at Zachariah Silverman’s house...’
‘...the authorities are not ruling out arson...’
‘Police on site have reported finding a hidden room.’
‘...what can only be described as a hidden torture chamber...’
‘...satanic ritual...’
‘...blood all over the walls...’
News reports flashing up images of fire damage. Zachariah in hand cuffs, protesting he doesn’t know what’s going on. That the last thing he remembers was two months ago. Fire truck on his perfect lawn. White circle with familiar symbols, angel sigils, painted on a smoke blackened wall.
What...I can’t...That makes no sense. Then it starts to sink in.
It was real. I was there. I did that.
Voices circling. Ecstasy. Wistful wailing.
I was there. I was really there. I did...I...Feel my bag drop. Hear it slam onto the floor.
“Cas?” Sam’s calling from the kitchen.
Bend and scrabble to pick it up again. I need to get out. He can’t see me. I have to get away.
Bend down but barely feel the canvas. The whispers are rushing. Rapturous. Rising. A delighted cacophony of sound.
Pick up the bag. Back out of the living room. Upstairs. Retreat to my bedroom.
Upstairs and I push the door shut.
Breathe. Push down nausea. Don’t be sick. My hands are shaking. Legs weak. My whole body shaking.
Fuck.
It was real. I did...I did that. Lit another fire. Burnt another house down. Another house with a hidden chamber. Feel my body drop. I’m going...they’re going to find me.
I’ll go back to jail.
Feel myself start to rock. This isn’t, this can’t be happening.
***
Part Five