(A/N: Fair warning here - this is the first time I've even attempted Cas' PoV, so if it comes out awkward/stupid, do let me know. And, uh. I might've enjoyed writing twisted!Cas a little too much... >.>)
Unravelling
Every time Castiel comes back, there’s something missing.
It’s always a room: plain and brown, unfurnished save for a wooden chair in the centre. Sam sits in that chair - relaxed, open, trusting. There is none of that defiance that Castiel is used to seeing; no upturned chin, no guarded look. Sam merely is as he sits, and he thrums with power.
Castiel reaches out, feels a thread of that power connecting him to Sam, an endless loop of energy that shimmers like gossamer between them. Sam’s hand unravels, flesh and muscle and bone wisping at the edges before joining the thread.
Sam unspools, Castiel absorbs.
When he feels like he’s taken enough-
(there’ll never be enough-he takes a deep breath, breaks the connection and re-emerges out of Sam’s mind
( ... )
“So, I’m thinking,” Dean says, “if this Mother chick is really creating these new monsters, we’re better off sticking to the hunt, y’know?” He stretches, pops his joints. “Sitting here with these books any longer is going to give us allergies, not answers.”
“Dean, you either have allergies or you don’t,” Sam says, frowning over a dusty tome. He’s kneading his left hand furiously, the muscles around his eyes twitching. “We’ve found so much; what’s to say there isn’t more?”
Castiel knows they don’t have to bother; he knows there are no more answers in Bobby’s vast library just as surely he knows the truth of every moment of history that’s recorded in the books. But he doesn’t dare tell them: the closer they get to the secrets behind Purgatory and the Mother, the less he can-the less he can keep them safe, the less they can... aid him in his war.
The less he can draw upon the sweet power of Sam’s soul.
So unique-stripped of all the trappings that should’ve weighed it down, that should’ve tainted it with more than a century of the
( ... )
“You’re drunk on this power, brother,” Balthazar tells him, but there is no accusation in his eyes or tone; only excitement. “You’re stronger than ever before.”
And there - beyond the humour and jaded speech, lies naked devotion. Castiel considers, for the briefest of moments, sharing the sheer purity of power that Sam’s untainted soul gives him. After all, Balthazar has-has been loyal, has-no. No. Sam is his. Sam will... help him till he’s won the war, and Castiel is winning the war.
He isWhen Castiel next meets Dean, the hunter is holding his brother in his arms, crying. He’s seen Dean’s darkest despairs often enough to be able to recognise its taste in the air; it hangs now, thick and cloying and black. “Dean,” he says. “Sam’s
( ... )
The metaphysics of this scenario are coherent and intuitive, on the science side of sci-fi-fantasy, as your magic stuff so often is. It makes it easy to understand exactly how twisted what Castiel does is.
Creepy. Wow. Creepy. The creepiest thing is, the way Cas acts this season, I can almost see it. Ow. What's really getting to me is how Sam doesn't have a chance at all. I think this'll stay with me for a while.
Castiel being as enigmatic as he is this season, I can actually see a milder version fitting into canon. Show is making out Cas's journey this season to be akin to Sam's in s4. Except - Castiel has an even greater capacity for single-mindedness, and much more power at his disposal. Not to mention two Winchesters who are completely oblivious and pulling him around. What can he be truly capable of?
Thank you so much for the prompt and the comment! :D
Yay, thank you! Show will probably not go this far, but I had immense fun prodding Cas down this path. The scariest thing, perhaps, is that the reasoning behind this scenario fits in with how Castiel's thinking/behaving this season.
Unravelling
Every time Castiel comes back, there’s something missing.
It’s always a room: plain and brown, unfurnished save for a wooden chair in the centre. Sam sits in that chair - relaxed, open, trusting. There is none of that defiance that Castiel is used to seeing; no upturned chin, no guarded look. Sam merely is as he sits, and he thrums with power.
Castiel reaches out, feels a thread of that power connecting him to Sam, an endless loop of energy that shimmers like gossamer between them. Sam’s hand unravels, flesh and muscle and bone wisping at the edges before joining the thread.
Sam unspools, Castiel absorbs.
When he feels like he’s taken enough-
(there’ll never be enough-he takes a deep breath, breaks the connection and re-emerges out of Sam’s mind ( ... )
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“Dean, you either have allergies or you don’t,” Sam says, frowning over a dusty tome. He’s kneading his left hand furiously, the muscles around his eyes twitching. “We’ve found so much; what’s to say there isn’t more?”
Castiel knows they don’t have to bother; he knows there are no more answers in Bobby’s vast library just as surely he knows the truth of every moment of history that’s recorded in the books. But he doesn’t dare tell them: the closer they get to the secrets behind Purgatory and the Mother, the less he can-the less he can keep them safe, the less they can... aid him in his war.
The less he can draw upon the sweet power of Sam’s soul.
So unique-stripped of all the trappings that should’ve weighed it down, that should’ve tainted it with more than a century of the ( ... )
Reply
And there - beyond the humour and jaded speech, lies naked devotion. Castiel considers, for the briefest of moments, sharing the sheer purity of power that Sam’s untainted soul gives him. After all, Balthazar has-has been loyal, has-no. No. Sam is his. Sam will... help him till he’s won the war, and Castiel is winning the war.
He isWhen Castiel next meets Dean, the hunter is holding his brother in his arms, crying. He’s seen Dean’s darkest despairs often enough to be able to recognise its taste in the air; it hangs now, thick and cloying and black. “Dean,” he says. “Sam’s ( ... )
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A truly horrifying storying, Lovely, man. <3
Now I'mma go run to find a happy fic before I go to bed. No nightmares tonight, thanks.
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Thank you so much!
Ha ha, I hope you did find something happier. :D
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The metaphysics of this scenario are coherent and intuitive, on the science side of sci-fi-fantasy, as your magic stuff so often is. It makes it easy to understand exactly how twisted what Castiel does is.
And again, AAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!
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I keep getting the urge to rationalise SPN. I'm glad that you found the workings behind this coherent!
Thank you!! :D
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Thanks for filling my prompt!
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Thank you so much for the prompt and the comment! :D
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Thanks again! :D
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Poor, poor Sam : (
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