Losyngerie in the Devilles mouth (17/20)whit_meruleMay 19 2012, 04:17:45 UTC
The next time Castiel turned up, a Leviathan had its fingers around Sam’s throat.
Castiel looked at Sam (backed against the wall by two Leviathans), and at Dean (twisted up viciously in wire cabling with the third Leviathan holding his head at a painful angle to force him to watch the other two kill Sam) as if he didn’t really understand what was going on. Then his eyes widened in panic, and he said, in a very small voice, “I…”
“Well, well, look who it is,” sneered one of the two holding Sam. “The little angel battery that couldn’t.”
“Cas,” Dean bellowed. “The borax!”
Castiel blinked, swinging his head back and forth between them in confusion, and Sam cursed every time he’d ever steered the conversation away from Leviathans around Castiel. Because this was their life, who was he kidding.
Then Dean’s Leviathan and one of Sam’s closed in on Castiel. The first one picked him up by the throat and flung him across the room, limbs flailing loose as a doll’s. He crashed into the wall at an angle that would have broken his neck if he’d not been what he was, and lay there barely moving as they approached. Sam shouted, braced his back against the wall and tried to kick his Leviathan’s legs out from under it. Castiel just looked up at the two looming over him, bloody and bruised and not even lifting a fucking finger, and Dean was struggling with the cabling and roaring at him to fight, fight, damn you Cas, or fly the fuck away.
Then Lucifer was there, blazing cold and terrible as Sam had only ever seen him against the pagan gods the day Gabriel had died, and completely, ragingly useless. Time seemed to slow to a trickle the shadow of the devil closed in on the little tableau, hands clutching helpless and furious at his sides. Then the Leviathan holding Sam swung his fist back, geologically slow, and Lucifer’s white-hot eyes flickered over and locked with Sam’s.
Lucifer was in front of him in a moment and he reached not for the Leviathan but for Sam’s own hands, where they were clutched pointlessly in the Leviathan’s shirt. Those, those Lucifer could touch, burning cold fingers closing around Sam’s fists. And Sam looked into his eyes and didn’t fight him: not when he forcibly jerked Sam’s hands back, tearing the shirt into rags with them, not when he slammed Sam’s fist into the Leviathan’s stomach with the strength that had punched through Baldr’s chest, sending it staggering gasping and incredulous to sprawl on the floor. Sam didn’t even fight when Lucifer used his right hand to draw out the iron knife from his belt and cut a completely unfamiliar sigil into his left palm, shallow and fluid-quick and precise.
Lucifer shoved him forward away from the wall, and slammed his bloody palm down on the felled Leviathan’s forehead.
It screamed, and shrivelled like a spider - first all its limbs curling up, then the thrash of black veins under the surface, then suddenly limp with foul-smelling black goo seeping out of its nose and mouth, drying and cracking in filthy rivulets down the side of its face and on the floor below.
Sam gaped for a moment, just a moment, then he was up and running. The Leviathan leaning over Castiel he tackled from behind, one arm across its throat to jerk its head back and the other hand curling around its forehead. The moment its hands jerked and flailed away from Castiel’s skin Lucifer was there, arms around his shoulders too fast to follow, half-dragging half-flinging him across the cold concrete floor toward Dean. Sam heaved the twitching, dying thing aside and rounded on the last one. It had backed up a step to stare at him in utter disbelief, and Sam pressed that moment of advantage, slapping his hand against its forehead even as it reared its head back to go big-mouth on him.
He didn’t look up until he was sure all three corpses weren’t going to start twitching again.
Then Dean said, low and controlled and like he was about to go much louder any moment now, “Okay. What the hell was that?”
Castiel looked at Sam (backed against the wall by two Leviathans), and at Dean (twisted up viciously in wire cabling with the third Leviathan holding his head at a painful angle to force him to watch the other two kill Sam) as if he didn’t really understand what was going on. Then his eyes widened in panic, and he said, in a very small voice, “I…”
“Well, well, look who it is,” sneered one of the two holding Sam. “The little angel battery that couldn’t.”
“Cas,” Dean bellowed. “The borax!”
Castiel blinked, swinging his head back and forth between them in confusion, and Sam cursed every time he’d ever steered the conversation away from Leviathans around Castiel. Because this was their life, who was he kidding.
Then Dean’s Leviathan and one of Sam’s closed in on Castiel. The first one picked him up by the throat and flung him across the room, limbs flailing loose as a doll’s. He crashed into the wall at an angle that would have broken his neck if he’d not been what he was, and lay there barely moving as they approached. Sam shouted, braced his back against the wall and tried to kick his Leviathan’s legs out from under it. Castiel just looked up at the two looming over him, bloody and bruised and not even lifting a fucking finger, and Dean was struggling with the cabling and roaring at him to fight, fight, damn you Cas, or fly the fuck away.
Then Lucifer was there, blazing cold and terrible as Sam had only ever seen him against the pagan gods the day Gabriel had died, and completely, ragingly useless. Time seemed to slow to a trickle the shadow of the devil closed in on the little tableau, hands clutching helpless and furious at his sides. Then the Leviathan holding Sam swung his fist back, geologically slow, and Lucifer’s white-hot eyes flickered over and locked with Sam’s.
Lucifer was in front of him in a moment and he reached not for the Leviathan but for Sam’s own hands, where they were clutched pointlessly in the Leviathan’s shirt. Those, those Lucifer could touch, burning cold fingers closing around Sam’s fists. And Sam looked into his eyes and didn’t fight him: not when he forcibly jerked Sam’s hands back, tearing the shirt into rags with them, not when he slammed Sam’s fist into the Leviathan’s stomach with the strength that had punched through Baldr’s chest, sending it staggering gasping and incredulous to sprawl on the floor. Sam didn’t even fight when Lucifer used his right hand to draw out the iron knife from his belt and cut a completely unfamiliar sigil into his left palm, shallow and fluid-quick and precise.
Lucifer shoved him forward away from the wall, and slammed his bloody palm down on the felled Leviathan’s forehead.
It screamed, and shrivelled like a spider - first all its limbs curling up, then the thrash of black veins under the surface, then suddenly limp with foul-smelling black goo seeping out of its nose and mouth, drying and cracking in filthy rivulets down the side of its face and on the floor below.
Sam gaped for a moment, just a moment, then he was up and running. The Leviathan leaning over Castiel he tackled from behind, one arm across its throat to jerk its head back and the other hand curling around its forehead. The moment its hands jerked and flailed away from Castiel’s skin Lucifer was there, arms around his shoulders too fast to follow, half-dragging half-flinging him across the cold concrete floor toward Dean. Sam heaved the twitching, dying thing aside and rounded on the last one. It had backed up a step to stare at him in utter disbelief, and Sam pressed that moment of advantage, slapping his hand against its forehead even as it reared its head back to go big-mouth on him.
He didn’t look up until he was sure all three corpses weren’t going to start twitching again.
Then Dean said, low and controlled and like he was about to go much louder any moment now, “Okay. What the hell was that?”
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