Human Senses
Title: Human Senses
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence and boy-kissing
Spoilers: All over. Specifics: 5x8. Changing Channels
Disclaimer: I WISH I OWNED. But I don't. Pity.
Summary: In the dark, the Winchester brothers and their angel are attacked by a demon. Things get Helen Keller.
It's dark, an utter oppressive darkness that eyes do not adjust to, and Dean can barely see so he's relying on all his other senses, sharpened by the loss of one.
Scent. Damp, musky. Oh, wait, WAIT...A faint trace of sulfur is there too. Dean grits his teeth and hoists his gun, reaching out to touch Sam's arm, placing two fingers on the underside of his wrist.
Touch. The answering press of three fingers on his forearm says it all, everything, Yes. It means they have a plan. Another soft palm on shoulder brushes dangerously close to the handprint but also manages to convey an angel's understanding of the Winchester brothers' plan. For once, Dean says nothing of personal space; it's too dark and their bodies are all they have to communicate with each other.
Sound. An explosion booms and there is a bright white light which just makes him even more visionless. The scent of sulfur bleeds into his nose and he sneezes, gripping Sam's arm and tapping one finger to his palm. A high-pitched screech fills the air, and a low rumble vibrates and voices behind him.
"Cas," he murmurs, not turning around. The chanting continues and a hoarse scream fills the air, terrifying in all its raw horror. A sliver of the angel's true voice slips into his incanting and Sam's fingers squeeze Dean's arm. The blood dripping out of his ears isn't new, but isn't pleasant either, and he'll have to have a talk with Castiel after this.
Suddenly, there's the incredibly intense smell of a demon about to be exorcised, but it's quelled by a rush of movement fluttering his clothes, almost yanking Sam and Dean apart. They clutch each other, just listening to each other breathe, huge pants gasping in and out of the air.
Suddenly, things get bad. How does Dean know? Because he can no longer hear Castiel's low gravel voice intoning the Enochian exorcism, but he can hear what-should-have-been a soft rip, but sounds like a gunshot because of the quiet.
Taste. The dark-haired angel's fingers are scrabbling at the humanoid body pinning him, long fingers scratching at its face. He hears a hiss of pain and smugly thinks, That's for the Winchesters, you son of a bitch, but then he listens to a tearing sound and something muffles his mouth.
Automatically, Castiel feels his eyes grow astronomically saucer-like and his movements become increasingly erratic. The tightening of the cloth around his mouth chokes his breathing and he's frantic, kicking out restlessly, breathing out harshly though his nose.
His finger hooks through the putrid scent of the rag, his hand still supernaturally strong enough to rip it cleanly apart, so much easier than the greying tape that once suffocated him in the past. Gasping, he makes to shove at the demon, but he's stopped by a hand at his mouth.
No. He kicks out like a cornered mustang, eyes huge and fearful in the dark, the whites glinting nervously.
"Quiet, pretty little angel," the demon's strong male body growls, hand pressing even more tightly to Castiel's lips.
Cas swallows, tongue darting out to lick at the hand, a technique of distraction observed from Dean. He recoils at the musky rotten egg taste, mentally making a note to never ever eat eggs, no matter how hard Dean tries to convince him to.
He doesn't realize it, but he's shaking, the disgusting egg sliding down his throat, forcing him to breathe even more rapidly through his nose. He feels himself becoming faint, and his hands scramble for purchase on something solid.
Shit, Dean curses as Sam yelps quietly.
"Dean, Cas is holding on to me. He's shaking. The demon's got him muffled or something," he whispers, voice barely audible.
No. Nononononono. Images of a blue-eyed man with his full lips covered by silver tape and ruby blood dripping down his nose flash through his eyes and he shudders, the metallic odor bursting in his taste buds.
He touches Sam's wrist, whose breath exhales in answer. Swinging around at the same time as his Sasquatch brother, he sprays holy water in the general direction of Castiel's hyperventilated panting, the wincing shout from the demon gratifying and terrifying at the same time.
The high-pitched squeal from Castiel cuts through Dean's body, chest aching with an unnameable emotion. Fury rages through his body, eyes going red for a brief second before the salty taste of his own sweat filled his mouth.
"Dean!" Sam's low grunt serves as a warning, and he grabs the squirming demon, pinning his arms behind his back. The demon struggles, growling curses in the language of Hell and Dean snarls into its ear.
"You get your paws of my angel, you bastard."
Ruby's knife slashes through his body, fire popping vehemently. The body sags, and the sulfur smell disappears, leaving behind a faint, gag-inducing aftertaste.
Sight. Dean breathes in hurried relief, and rushes to Castiel's collapsed body, hands flitting around, patting his sides, checking for injuries. He exhales nearly silently, brushing a hand through Cas' hair.
"Cas, hey, Cas. It's alright, it's alright. The demon's gone." He places a hand on the angel's trembling shoulder.
Light suddenly fills the warehouse, and Dean blinks rapidly to adjust, glassy sapphire eyes filling his vision.
Castiel whimpers again, gripping Dean's forearms, breath still too fast. Dean's heart clenches and he pulls the horrified angel into his arms, cradling his head, running fingers through that soft hair.
"Shh," he croons softly into skin, "he's gone. We got him. Sam got him."
"I-Dean-h-he covered my mouth." His voice breaks, much too high, too Jimmy-like for Dean's comfort and he grips the angel harder, as if clutching him to his chest would get rid of all that he's gone through.
"I know, Cas. But we got him. Just...ah...he's not here anymore, angel. You're safe." The pet name slips out, and Sam's soft huff of disbelief turns his ears red, but he clenches Castiel's body all the tighter.
Castiel's eyes blink up at Dean, wide and guileless and still so frightened, but his breathing is calming, anxiety attack fading, so Dean's heart slows too, hammering not nearly so painful against his chest.
"Yes, Dean," he murmurs, "You're safe."
Dean's face flushes even more, and he opens his mouth to say something, to explain what he meant, but cool, velvet lips press onto his own and he forgets what was going through his mind, lost in the sweet sensation of Cas.
Impossibly, he can feel Castiel's heart slowing even more, and the glassiness in his eyes is gone, replaced by the original clear cerulean that he's grown to know and care for (and more, but let's not get into that right now.)
Sam coughs and they part, breathing a little more heavily but calmed, grounded.
"Thank you, Dean," Cas says gratefully, lips kiss-swollen, hair mussed, and eyes thankful and determined. He's never looked so beautiful, fierce, angelic.
"Anytime, angel, anytime," Dean grins, and it's blinding.
Er...yeah. This totally veered off from what I was gonna do. And the nickname CAME OUT OF NOWHERE. DAMN YOU, DEAN.
Feedback? *Sam and Cas puppy eyes of doom*