Entertaining Angels (11/?)
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Entertaining Angels
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel
Category: Gen, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: K+/PG
Spoilers: Through 4.10
Summary: A strange boy shows up at Dean and Sam's motel room. Maybe he needs help, or maybe he's there to help them-they can't quite tell.
Word Count: 1725
Disclaimer: Angels belong to God. The Winchesters belong to Kripke. It's a sad, sad world we live in.
Author's Note: Maybe I’ll be able to stick to every other day now. We’ll see.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
11
Dog set his feet on the material world and shook his body, settling in. It had been long millennia since the last time he stepped into this plane-last had been in an age of heroes, now long faded into myths that few knew and fewer believed, though there were always some who held to the old truths and did not accept the new ones. He blinked his eyes, feeling the slide of leathery flesh over the gem-like surface of his eyeballs, and began to absorb the ambience of his new hunting ground.
Dog knew that he had a different name, or rather, many names in many languages, some long and some short, all murmured in fear, accompanied with superstitious motions to ward away an accidental summoning. But Master called him Dog, and so Dog he was, though nothing like the other canine creatures who ran in packs and trolled the underworld, baying for blood. Master’s word was everything to Dog, was earth and sky and sea, more solid than all of the planes and their inhabitants, more precious than the most tender meat, and more highly treasured.
Master had given him a job. Dog shivered with happiness at the prospect. So long he had been only a gate guardian, but now at last he was allowed to stretch his wings again. And the end of this hunt promised a most delicious meal, one flavored with divine spices. Long, long it had been since Dog had rent a servant of the High One limb from limb, and anticipation was a jewel around his neck, hot and gleaming, driving him on.
The material world smelled different now than the last time Dog had been here. No more scent of offal strong in the air, but another smell, just as foul, but of something brought from beneath the earth and changed through human means. His claws scraped and dragged on a hard surface beneath his feet, and though not painful, it was annoying. Dog had been looking forward to the feel of earth, where he could press and gouge and leave his mark. This substance was too hard for that.
The buildings around him were shaped strangely, too, but Dog had no use for such human things, more intent on snuffling the air. The High One's servant had fallen near here, so all the accounts said (tortured out of twisted mouths in screams and falls of blood, Dog panting by his Master's side, watching with all his animal glee). Yet there was no divine scent here. It did not make sense.
Dog padded around in a circle, thin wings shifting behind him in a papery rustle. He smelled the stink of human and beast, more of that processed earth-stuff, a waft of human foods mingling in the air (completely unappetizing-Dog did not understand how they could eat the green things that grew from dirt when so much delicious flesh was available, nor why they chose to char that flesh in fire and flames until no flavor was left). No angel, though, fallen or otherwise.
He whined low in his throat. Master would be so displeased. Only minutes into his new hunt and already the fear of failure sent him to the ground, crouching and shivering. Master's displeasure was as terrible as his pleasure was wonderful, and Dog feared the former as passionately as he yearned for the latter.
No, no, there was time yet to find the way. Dog pushed himself to his feet, jointed limbs moving in defiance of earthly physics, and stalked among the buildings, smelling and smelling. He had to find something, some clue to show the way. People meandered about, chasing their incomprehensible errands, their funny, useless dreams and desires. None saw him, as his existence was impossible. If he could pause, he would devour two or three for a snack, and his mouth slavered deep with the thought. But time was not his own, and Master did not want him to eat until he finished the hunt. Hunger would make him even more implacable.
Behind one of the buildings, Dog found a pile of the strange skins the humans used to cover their flesh. A faint scent caught his interest, and he dug his snout into the pile, snuffling and tearing to discover the cause. Nothing there, and the smell was as human as any of the others that layered the air. But something different existed here, something that caught Dog's attention.
Dog was an intelligent monster, though most did not think it. He could almost feel Master's approving pat when he finally realized what the strangeness was.
The human who had left this scent was new. New and clean and innocent.
An impossible thing. Just as impossible as Dog himself. Therefore, their origins had to be similar.
Dog huffed a smoky laugh, steam trailing from his nostrils to rise wavering in the chilly air. The servant of the High One had been made into a human. Fully human, and therefore no trace of divinity to mark him, but too strange to the material world to blend in fully. No matter how he tried, he would stand out in the crowd, too naïve, too selfless, too compassionate, all the foolish things that Master despised and mocked, all clinging to this new human life.
Dog found the scent again and breathed it in, memorizing it. Clean and fresh and sweet, thus horrible and burning against his delicate nose. Already he missed the beautiful scent of brimstone and ashes and blood, missed Master's smile and the chains where he perched at home, listening to the screaming of the damned.
All the more reason to end this hunt and return. Dog raised his head, closing his eyes and bringing all his concentration to bear on one sense. So many strange smells twisted and clung together in the air, clumped and confused, but this one was a silver thread. It led down the road, going west. The trail was clear.
Dog let his mouth curl up in a ferocious smile, baring his teeth, not in aggression but in joy. And he bounded off, following the scent.
X
Something about Dean seemed off the next morning, but Sam couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He had been up late with Ruby, measuring things, reciting spells, following esoteric procedures to create an object that probably shouldn’t be allowed to exist, honestly. But all through it a corner of his mind had been thinking about his brother and Castiel, hoping that both were safe from nightmares and visions. He had been happy to find them together when he returned, apparently comfortable and at ease, but now he wondered if his sleepy, fogged vision had missed some sort of clue.
Breakfast was oatmeal again, though Sam added a couple packets of the instant stuff to the pot, just enough preservatives and other crap to help Castiel's body start to get used to it. The meal was quiet, but Sam noticed the change between his two companions. Yesterday, Dean had been the one keeping an eye on Castiel, making sure that he was okay. Now their positions were reversed, Castiel watching Dean with grave attention, while the older Winchester seemed to be avoiding the child's gaze.
It was disconcerting. Sam really didn't know what to do about it.
They stopped for gas somewhere in west Missouri. Sam took Castiel for a walk around the parking lot to stretch their legs while Dean went inside, paying for the gas and finally acquiring one of his precious bear claws. He could see Dean flirting lazily with the clerk, but even through the plate glass window and twenty feet of distance, it was obvious that his brother's heart wasn't in it.
They paused, and Castiel, still holding Sam's hand in a firm grip, bent down to study the cracks in the sidewalk, tracing their uneven path with a curious finger. Sam watched him, hesitating. But if anyone was his ally in this, it was this little boy.
"Cas, did Dean have a nightmare last night?"
The boy held still for a moment, then straightened, looking up into Sam's face, eyes large and sorrowful. He nodded solemnly. "Dean sad. Hurt."
Sam sighed. "I know. There's a lot of bad things in his head."
"Yes." Castiel looked down, scuffing his shoe against the concrete. "I...try. Try help. Not...not help. Not...enough."
"Oh, Castiel..." Sam's chest hitched, tight with pain. He bent down on one knee and pulled the kid into a tight hug in one smooth motion, almost without thinking. "I'm sure you were a big help. Dean...the bad things are just too big for him right now. It's gonna take time, that's all."
Castiel nodded against Sam's chest, then drew back, looking into his face. "Dean good."
Sam sniffed, suddenly and inexplicably teary. "Yeah, yeah he is. Oh, Cas, I don't know what Dean did to deserve an angel like you, but he's one lucky son of a bitch."
The boy smiled, quavering slightly, then touched Sam's cheek, wiping away the slight sheen of moisture. "Dean good. We help."
"That's right, buddy. We'll both help him. He's a good man, even though he can't see it right now."
Sam pushed himself to his feet, looking back to his broken brother. Yeah, he had an ally now, and he couldn't have asked for a better one.
After a moment he felt a small tug on his hand, and looked over to find Castiel shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "What's the matter? Do your feet hurt?"
The boy shook his head, then looked up to meet his concerned look. "Racehorse."
Sam blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
He grimaced, shifting again, bending slightly at the waist. "Racehorse, Sam. Racehorse."
"I'm sorry, I don't..." Sam nearly choked. "Oh, Lord, no. That's what he taught you to say when you have to pee, isn’t it?"
The child nodded, looking very distressed now. "Racehorse!"
"He couldn't have taught you to say 'bathroom?' Or even just 'pee?' God, my brother is insane." Sam couldn't help laughing a little, though the chuckles tore at his chest, shaking something deep inside. "Okay, I get you. C'mon, let's go inside and find the men's room."
Castiel sighed in evident relief. And then he sneezed.
Sam looked down at him in dismay. "Oh, crap."
Part 12
Title: Entertaining Angels
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel
Category: Gen, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: K+/PG
Spoilers: Through 4.10
Summary: A strange boy shows up at Dean and Sam's motel room. Maybe he needs help, or maybe he's there to help them-they can't quite tell.
Word Count: 1725
Disclaimer: Angels belong to God. The Winchesters belong to Kripke. It's a sad, sad world we live in.
Author's Note: Maybe I’ll be able to stick to every other day now. We’ll see.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
11
Dog set his feet on the material world and shook his body, settling in. It had been long millennia since the last time he stepped into this plane-last had been in an age of heroes, now long faded into myths that few knew and fewer believed, though there were always some who held to the old truths and did not accept the new ones. He blinked his eyes, feeling the slide of leathery flesh over the gem-like surface of his eyeballs, and began to absorb the ambience of his new hunting ground.
Dog knew that he had a different name, or rather, many names in many languages, some long and some short, all murmured in fear, accompanied with superstitious motions to ward away an accidental summoning. But Master called him Dog, and so Dog he was, though nothing like the other canine creatures who ran in packs and trolled the underworld, baying for blood. Master’s word was everything to Dog, was earth and sky and sea, more solid than all of the planes and their inhabitants, more precious than the most tender meat, and more highly treasured.
Master had given him a job. Dog shivered with happiness at the prospect. So long he had been only a gate guardian, but now at last he was allowed to stretch his wings again. And the end of this hunt promised a most delicious meal, one flavored with divine spices. Long, long it had been since Dog had rent a servant of the High One limb from limb, and anticipation was a jewel around his neck, hot and gleaming, driving him on.
The material world smelled different now than the last time Dog had been here. No more scent of offal strong in the air, but another smell, just as foul, but of something brought from beneath the earth and changed through human means. His claws scraped and dragged on a hard surface beneath his feet, and though not painful, it was annoying. Dog had been looking forward to the feel of earth, where he could press and gouge and leave his mark. This substance was too hard for that.
The buildings around him were shaped strangely, too, but Dog had no use for such human things, more intent on snuffling the air. The High One's servant had fallen near here, so all the accounts said (tortured out of twisted mouths in screams and falls of blood, Dog panting by his Master's side, watching with all his animal glee). Yet there was no divine scent here. It did not make sense.
Dog padded around in a circle, thin wings shifting behind him in a papery rustle. He smelled the stink of human and beast, more of that processed earth-stuff, a waft of human foods mingling in the air (completely unappetizing-Dog did not understand how they could eat the green things that grew from dirt when so much delicious flesh was available, nor why they chose to char that flesh in fire and flames until no flavor was left). No angel, though, fallen or otherwise.
He whined low in his throat. Master would be so displeased. Only minutes into his new hunt and already the fear of failure sent him to the ground, crouching and shivering. Master's displeasure was as terrible as his pleasure was wonderful, and Dog feared the former as passionately as he yearned for the latter.
No, no, there was time yet to find the way. Dog pushed himself to his feet, jointed limbs moving in defiance of earthly physics, and stalked among the buildings, smelling and smelling. He had to find something, some clue to show the way. People meandered about, chasing their incomprehensible errands, their funny, useless dreams and desires. None saw him, as his existence was impossible. If he could pause, he would devour two or three for a snack, and his mouth slavered deep with the thought. But time was not his own, and Master did not want him to eat until he finished the hunt. Hunger would make him even more implacable.
Behind one of the buildings, Dog found a pile of the strange skins the humans used to cover their flesh. A faint scent caught his interest, and he dug his snout into the pile, snuffling and tearing to discover the cause. Nothing there, and the smell was as human as any of the others that layered the air. But something different existed here, something that caught Dog's attention.
Dog was an intelligent monster, though most did not think it. He could almost feel Master's approving pat when he finally realized what the strangeness was.
The human who had left this scent was new. New and clean and innocent.
An impossible thing. Just as impossible as Dog himself. Therefore, their origins had to be similar.
Dog huffed a smoky laugh, steam trailing from his nostrils to rise wavering in the chilly air. The servant of the High One had been made into a human. Fully human, and therefore no trace of divinity to mark him, but too strange to the material world to blend in fully. No matter how he tried, he would stand out in the crowd, too naïve, too selfless, too compassionate, all the foolish things that Master despised and mocked, all clinging to this new human life.
Dog found the scent again and breathed it in, memorizing it. Clean and fresh and sweet, thus horrible and burning against his delicate nose. Already he missed the beautiful scent of brimstone and ashes and blood, missed Master's smile and the chains where he perched at home, listening to the screaming of the damned.
All the more reason to end this hunt and return. Dog raised his head, closing his eyes and bringing all his concentration to bear on one sense. So many strange smells twisted and clung together in the air, clumped and confused, but this one was a silver thread. It led down the road, going west. The trail was clear.
Dog let his mouth curl up in a ferocious smile, baring his teeth, not in aggression but in joy. And he bounded off, following the scent.
X
Something about Dean seemed off the next morning, but Sam couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He had been up late with Ruby, measuring things, reciting spells, following esoteric procedures to create an object that probably shouldn’t be allowed to exist, honestly. But all through it a corner of his mind had been thinking about his brother and Castiel, hoping that both were safe from nightmares and visions. He had been happy to find them together when he returned, apparently comfortable and at ease, but now he wondered if his sleepy, fogged vision had missed some sort of clue.
Breakfast was oatmeal again, though Sam added a couple packets of the instant stuff to the pot, just enough preservatives and other crap to help Castiel's body start to get used to it. The meal was quiet, but Sam noticed the change between his two companions. Yesterday, Dean had been the one keeping an eye on Castiel, making sure that he was okay. Now their positions were reversed, Castiel watching Dean with grave attention, while the older Winchester seemed to be avoiding the child's gaze.
It was disconcerting. Sam really didn't know what to do about it.
They stopped for gas somewhere in west Missouri. Sam took Castiel for a walk around the parking lot to stretch their legs while Dean went inside, paying for the gas and finally acquiring one of his precious bear claws. He could see Dean flirting lazily with the clerk, but even through the plate glass window and twenty feet of distance, it was obvious that his brother's heart wasn't in it.
They paused, and Castiel, still holding Sam's hand in a firm grip, bent down to study the cracks in the sidewalk, tracing their uneven path with a curious finger. Sam watched him, hesitating. But if anyone was his ally in this, it was this little boy.
"Cas, did Dean have a nightmare last night?"
The boy held still for a moment, then straightened, looking up into Sam's face, eyes large and sorrowful. He nodded solemnly. "Dean sad. Hurt."
Sam sighed. "I know. There's a lot of bad things in his head."
"Yes." Castiel looked down, scuffing his shoe against the concrete. "I...try. Try help. Not...not help. Not...enough."
"Oh, Castiel..." Sam's chest hitched, tight with pain. He bent down on one knee and pulled the kid into a tight hug in one smooth motion, almost without thinking. "I'm sure you were a big help. Dean...the bad things are just too big for him right now. It's gonna take time, that's all."
Castiel nodded against Sam's chest, then drew back, looking into his face. "Dean good."
Sam sniffed, suddenly and inexplicably teary. "Yeah, yeah he is. Oh, Cas, I don't know what Dean did to deserve an angel like you, but he's one lucky son of a bitch."
The boy smiled, quavering slightly, then touched Sam's cheek, wiping away the slight sheen of moisture. "Dean good. We help."
"That's right, buddy. We'll both help him. He's a good man, even though he can't see it right now."
Sam pushed himself to his feet, looking back to his broken brother. Yeah, he had an ally now, and he couldn't have asked for a better one.
After a moment he felt a small tug on his hand, and looked over to find Castiel shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "What's the matter? Do your feet hurt?"
The boy shook his head, then looked up to meet his concerned look. "Racehorse."
Sam blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
He grimaced, shifting again, bending slightly at the waist. "Racehorse, Sam. Racehorse."
"I'm sorry, I don't..." Sam nearly choked. "Oh, Lord, no. That's what he taught you to say when you have to pee, isn’t it?"
The child nodded, looking very distressed now. "Racehorse!"
"He couldn't have taught you to say 'bathroom?' Or even just 'pee?' God, my brother is insane." Sam couldn't help laughing a little, though the chuckles tore at his chest, shaking something deep inside. "Okay, I get you. C'mon, let's go inside and find the men's room."
Castiel sighed in evident relief. And then he sneezed.
Sam looked down at him in dismay. "Oh, crap."
Part 12