wow, I need to finish all these wips. seriously, this is | ridiculous.
Post a sentence (or two or a paragraph) from as many of your WIPs as you want, with no explanation attached.
- Once Castiel knew that Dean was sleeping he leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, focusing on the chorus of his brethren, using the never ending, never wavering presence of his brothers to ground him. Letting their love and his own love for his Father well up to take away the fear that had begun to grow in his heart. Fear for Dean, fear for himself, fear that the family he loved for thousands of years had been lying, fear that God, was not here anymore. The peace that usually came after this ritual didn't come, it had forsaken him, it had gone beyond his reach. Anna was right, feelings, emotion, doubts do get worse.
- Castiel hadn't fallen prey to sleep often, but when he did, it wasn't filled with dreams laced with being caught by his family, the punishments he received the first time he disobeyed, or even a reenactment of his painful death. They were much worse, they were filled with nothing. Filled with the terrified screams of his fear, of his doubt. These dreams were empty, cold, and bubbled over with an invisible wrath and malice that was like poison filling Castiel's veins, slowly choking out all the hope and love that was left in his heart.
No matter how loud Castiel screamed he couldn't fill up the silence, couldn't wipe away the inky black night. But this didn't stop him from trying, so even as Dean watched over Castiel's prone body, wiping the tears that leaked from his eyes, Castiel tried to call out, to wake up. Hours passed like an eternity, and finally, Castiel couldn't scream anymore, and curled into himself, not even bothering to pray for deliverance. These nightmares had finished their job, they had finally taken his hope, and doused it in fear, like blowing out a candle.
- "But after tonight, to see the light in his eyes die a little after what Raphael said, I can't take that hope from him. He needs to believe in something, I'm afraid of what'll happen if I take that away from him too. That that little bit of faith could be the last bit of rope saving him from losing it completely. I can't do that to him. I've already killed him once, I can't do it again. Not ever. So if praying to You'll keep him from spontaneously combusting, if he believes that I'm being sincere, and I am I promise, it'll get better, I'll do it, no questions asked. He's so scared, and I hate it, so if believing that if I get fixed everything will, makes this easier on Cas I'll take it, I'm not going to ruin that too. He's running scared, and, I can't, I won't be the one to break him completely, to ruin the little peace of mind he's got left, not when he's so close to breaking into pieces. I see that now, I should have noticed in Bobby's hospital room, and I'm so sorry that I didn't, so God? If you're out there? Give Cas a sign, some proof, that you're somewhere, he's all I've got, and while that's plenty for me, I know I'm not enough for him. He's lost everything for me, for a world that he's not a part of, and that he doesn't need, so please, please, just give him something. Cause I need him, and he? Well he needs you."
- Scraping the cigarette butt on the asphalt Dean picked up his beer and took a long pull. Squaring his shoulders and finally answering with, "What do you want Cas? I thought you weren't here to perch on my shoulder. I thought you were done with my 'attitude' and done with dealing with me. Were you lying? Because I'm pretty sure that's a sin."
- Dean felt awful, he forgot that Cas was killed by his family, that he was asking too much. That Cas wasn't asking for much, he just wanted Dean to give him one thing. Just one thing, he wanted Dean to be his family. He just wanted to have something of his own. But instead of understanding, he was blaming. Blaming the only being who ever believed in him. Throwing Castiel's extreme sacrifice in the angel's face.
- Dean woke up with a scream, pulling on the restraints that were binding him, holding him down. Screaming for Sam, as if the very whips of hell were bearing down on him, "Sammy. Where are you? I don't want to stay here, Sammy, Sammy. Sammy."
With each word he screamed Dean only felt more afraid, more stuck. Like being on a Scrambler at the fair, centrifugal force pushing his head to and fro, not being able to stop, not knowing what was in front of him, only seeing colors, flashes of light. And as the lights got brighter and brighter he struggled with renewed force, pulling and tugging as if he was possessed. But then it all started fading away, disappearing like morning fog. His eyelids became heavy and as they closed for the final time he held onto one thing, the ethereal voice that told him to 'wake up,' and praying as hard as he could to get out of this new hell.
- Rolling his eyes at the way Castiel was still trying to be stoic even though it's clear that Castiel doesn't want to be alone right now. Dean looks Cas in the eyes and tells him, "Cas don't do that okay? Just come with Sam and me okay? You can continue your search later."
With a look on his face as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing Castiel nodded and whispered in a tone that made Dean think of swallowing broken glass, Castiel said, "Okay."
- Finally. Finally. The burning in my eyes has finally been replaced by tears. I don't know what's wrong with me. Zero emotions for days, just painted on smiles and lackluster acting. The first emotion is crying, and I just want to laugh, because the gaping hole in my chest being held together with the past is better than feeling like I've been asleep. Everything is better than that. Better than hearing the last words he said to me as he pushed me out the door, "Run, run. I love you, run," on repeat. They must think I'm crazy. I know they don't think I know that they died. They think I've cracked up. I don't talk, not since that day. They whisper about how sad it is that I lost my mind. That they don't blame me. That I probably won't ever be able to leave this place. That it's such a waste for such a beautiful girl to sit in the field, watching the flowers and writing nonsense in her journal. That I should snap out of it. They're wrong. I deserve this. I deserve to hear my child's screams as my world burst into flames. That the hooked scar at my temple is a reminder of the life I bought with their deaths. I shouldn't be here. Not anymore. Not ever.
- When he looked into her eyes he didn't see hope or faith or love. He saw fear, fear that was slowly taking her away from all that she had once loved. Because as he watched the fear turn to tears he knew that he had lost her. She was as dead to him as the barren winter night. There was no going back. Not tonight. Not ever.