Word Made Flesh- Lisa/Castiel (sort of)- PG- No warningsclaudiapriscusDecember 29 2010, 21:14:31 UTC
Okay, so I doubt this was exactly what you were looking for and as I was writing it it kept going in off in funky directions, but I hope it still works.
*** Word Made Flesh ***
She'd heard about him- Dean's angel. She'd even thought of him that way, even as Dean had named him: Castiel. That sonofabitch. That crazy bastard.
He pulled me out of hell, Dean would say- in a fury, in bemusement, fondly, through a throat swollen and hoarse with sorrow- but only ever that. He pulled me out of hell.
Angels.
She knew what was out there. How could she not? And yet the whole idea- the dick angels and the apocalypse and the devil of all things- took on the hazy quality of fiction in her mind.
Dean's imaginary friend, that's all. The angel Castiel, searching for God.
And yet she found herself fancifully falling back on the prayers of her childhood every time 'Cas' rolled from liquor-loosened lips. Angel of God, ever this day be at my side. To light and guard and rule and guide.Pulled from hell by an angel. It was the stuff of saints and
( ... )
Something about the war in Heaven. Cas getting whumped by Raphael's forces. Can extend into S6, Dean/Cas territory: Dean seems to take Cas for granted, doesn't know how bad it's been for him. Bonus points for hurt/comfort and involving Castiel's wings.
Chasing Time, Castiel OC, PGrosinblackrose5January 3 2011, 09:08:17 UTC
Fist land on flesh that is not there, non existence hands clamping down on non existence arms. Pulling and tugging. Pushing and shoving. Rebounding and charging again. Falling through the air, through space, through time. Landing on the dirt, invisible to the humans around them, the angels battle each other. Swords drawn chest puffed out snarls on their lips. As they burst through the walls of pyramids, sand burns at their feet and yet they feel nothing. Feel nothing but the swords in their hands, the hate in their hearts
( ... )
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*** Word Made Flesh ***
She'd heard about him- Dean's angel. She'd even thought of him that way, even as Dean had named him: Castiel. That sonofabitch. That crazy bastard.
He pulled me out of hell, Dean would say- in a fury, in bemusement, fondly, through a throat swollen and hoarse with sorrow- but only ever that. He pulled me out of hell.
Angels.
She knew what was out there. How could she not? And yet the whole idea- the dick angels and the apocalypse and the devil of all things- took on the hazy quality of fiction in her mind.
Dean's imaginary friend, that's all. The angel Castiel, searching for God.
And yet she found herself fancifully falling back on the prayers of her childhood every time 'Cas' rolled from liquor-loosened lips. Angel of God, ever this day be at my side. To light and guard and rule and guide.Pulled from hell by an angel. It was the stuff of saints and ( ... )
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Great job!
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