Just One Word: Damage
Damage
[ooc: Sam and Dean mentioned are hasdemonblood & agentangusyoung. Used with love and welcome to tag if they want.]
“Stop,” Castiel said as he appeared in a vast, open field in a rural community just outside Akron. It was quiet, except for the witch chanting in badly pronounced ancient Hebrew. She was the cause of all the omens and signs that had been springing up here.
She looked up from her ritual, startled. “Gader’el, my lord, is that you?”
“Your ritual is flawed, you’ll never summon anything,” Castiel took a step forward, looking over the seal she had drawn in salt and blood on the ground. It was a conflicted mix of symbols, signs and sigils. Nothing would ever come through this portal.
“Get away from that!”
He ignored the witch’s protests and broke a line of salt with his toe. The mix of Enochian and black magic broke with a roar of thunder and force, whipping around him like a tornado. He was glad Sam had brought this witch to his attention. She was powerful, but uneducated and recklessly mixing seals and spells trying to summon a demon. Her flawed rituals had produced omens, but no actual demons. Nothing could come through such a badly crafted ritual, only more raw, dark power.
“No! No! I had it right this time!” The witch screamed in frustration and grabbed the wickedly curved knife from the altar, brandishing it at him. “You’ve ruined everything!”
“Stop,” Castiel said again, taking another step forward. “What you are trying to do…”
“He’ll help me!” The witch sliced open her palm in one smooth movement and began to paint her blood over the altar.
In an instant, Castiel appeared by her side and grabbed her arm. She screamed, a wild, inhuman sound and slashed at him with the knife. He ignored it cutting into his chest, shoulder and arm as the witch tried to get at his neck.
“Stop.” His voice echoed out with force this time, stirring the wind.
“Be gone!” She drove the knife into his arm, her dark magic flowing from her into the knife and into the wound.
It burned and he took a step back, twisting the knife out of his arm. He threw it away into the grass, his arm pulsing as his Grace pushed the dark magic out of his body.
“Be gone!” The witch screamed.
Castiel realized with horror she had finished the seal. She pressed her bloody hand to it, there was a pulse of dark, confused magical energies and it hit him full force. He cried out in pain, conflicted banishing spells tearing at his Grace, trying to send him away while his Grace tried to stay. He dropped to his knees, doubled over from the war of energies going on inside him.
“Go! Go! Go!” The witch chanted, putting more and more of her will and magic behind her flawed seal.
There was nothing he could do. The pain locked Castiel into place, his body shuddering and twisting inside as his Grace fought against the witch. He tried to hold it in, to keep his power under his control but it was too much. His Grace escaped his control and lashed out, undirected and uncontrolled.
For two miles, people would see a blazing column of bright, white light that scorched the Earth and destroyed everything but the body in the center. The witch dead, the altar destroyed, Castiel’s Grace snapped back into him and he collapsed. He could barely move and he realized dully that he was still bleeding. He needed to rest, needed to settle. His Grace was still churning deep inside him, angry and agitated.
He blindly fumbled into his pocket, seeking out his cell phone. Castiel prayed it would still work as he pressed speed dial for Dean.
[ooc: Sam and Dean mentioned are hasdemonblood & agentangusyoung. Used with love and welcome to tag if they want.]
“Stop,” Castiel said as he appeared in a vast, open field in a rural community just outside Akron. It was quiet, except for the witch chanting in badly pronounced ancient Hebrew. She was the cause of all the omens and signs that had been springing up here.
She looked up from her ritual, startled. “Gader’el, my lord, is that you?”
“Your ritual is flawed, you’ll never summon anything,” Castiel took a step forward, looking over the seal she had drawn in salt and blood on the ground. It was a conflicted mix of symbols, signs and sigils. Nothing would ever come through this portal.
“Get away from that!”
He ignored the witch’s protests and broke a line of salt with his toe. The mix of Enochian and black magic broke with a roar of thunder and force, whipping around him like a tornado. He was glad Sam had brought this witch to his attention. She was powerful, but uneducated and recklessly mixing seals and spells trying to summon a demon. Her flawed rituals had produced omens, but no actual demons. Nothing could come through such a badly crafted ritual, only more raw, dark power.
“No! No! I had it right this time!” The witch screamed in frustration and grabbed the wickedly curved knife from the altar, brandishing it at him. “You’ve ruined everything!”
“Stop,” Castiel said again, taking another step forward. “What you are trying to do…”
“He’ll help me!” The witch sliced open her palm in one smooth movement and began to paint her blood over the altar.
In an instant, Castiel appeared by her side and grabbed her arm. She screamed, a wild, inhuman sound and slashed at him with the knife. He ignored it cutting into his chest, shoulder and arm as the witch tried to get at his neck.
“Stop.” His voice echoed out with force this time, stirring the wind.
“Be gone!” She drove the knife into his arm, her dark magic flowing from her into the knife and into the wound.
It burned and he took a step back, twisting the knife out of his arm. He threw it away into the grass, his arm pulsing as his Grace pushed the dark magic out of his body.
“Be gone!” The witch screamed.
Castiel realized with horror she had finished the seal. She pressed her bloody hand to it, there was a pulse of dark, confused magical energies and it hit him full force. He cried out in pain, conflicted banishing spells tearing at his Grace, trying to send him away while his Grace tried to stay. He dropped to his knees, doubled over from the war of energies going on inside him.
“Go! Go! Go!” The witch chanted, putting more and more of her will and magic behind her flawed seal.
There was nothing he could do. The pain locked Castiel into place, his body shuddering and twisting inside as his Grace fought against the witch. He tried to hold it in, to keep his power under his control but it was too much. His Grace escaped his control and lashed out, undirected and uncontrolled.
For two miles, people would see a blazing column of bright, white light that scorched the Earth and destroyed everything but the body in the center. The witch dead, the altar destroyed, Castiel’s Grace snapped back into him and he collapsed. He could barely move and he realized dully that he was still bleeding. He needed to rest, needed to settle. His Grace was still churning deep inside him, angry and agitated.
He blindly fumbled into his pocket, seeking out his cell phone. Castiel prayed it would still work as he pressed speed dial for Dean.