When Push Comes to Shove (Severe Punishment)
Title: When Push Comes to Shove (Severe Punishment)
Author: ryouseiteki
Rating: PG-13
Word count: Approx 1600
Characters/Pairing: Castiel, Dean, Bobby, Sam, passing mention of Raphael, angels (one-sided Castiel/Dean)
Warnings/Spoilers: Possibly disturbing imagery, some spoilers for 6x22
Summary/Prompt: Take point around Robert Singer’s salvage yard. Consider it Hallowed Ground. I will take care of this myself.
A/N: Not beta'd, let me know if anything is worded bad or spelled wrong or whatever. I haven't even read over it once, here it is straight! XD
Sorry that this one is shorter than the last one, I think I need more practice.
All of it for You | Corrupts Absolutely | What it's like | Severe Punishment | Instinct | A Few Changes
After some hesitation, a few of the angels stationed outside - most of them from his own, rebel army - abruptly returned to Heaven and sent him gentle brushes of Grace in acquiescence. He took a moment to memorize and acknowledge them separately, and waited a minute more before reaching out with his new powers and firmly shutting the Gates.
Outside, angels held their weapons and looked at each other in confusion. Even if they could agree that they would not accept Castiel as their new leader, they had no orders to follow; it would take awhile for them to decide how to approach the situation - most likely in a suicidal charge.
Castiel raised his hand, not noticing Sam ducking out from in front of him thinking he was in the line of fire, and clenched it tightly into a fist before jerking back in a sharp motion, severing the Host’s communication on the earthly plane.
Immediately, angelic screams filled the air.
Human cries of pain and the sound of glass shattering on the floors above brought him back to himself and he blinked, sealing the room from his once brother’s fearful and agonizing wails. Looking around he noticed Robert - honestly, the only human in the room with any survival instinct - on his knees, Samuel was on the floor from his frantic roll out of the way, and Dean was still stubbornly standing to the side. All had hands clamped over their ears and scrunched expressions.
He could sense the angel’s frantic attempts to leave the physical plane, attempts that were rebuffed by the Gates that remained closed to them. Grace reached for him desperately, pleading, begging.
The silence, the silence, oh brother, mercy, please, brother, forgive.
Castiel opened his mind to his remaining forces, but did not re-open them to each other, nor did he allow them to retreat home. Nonetheless, he was almost overwhelmed by their relief. He ignored the calls of those whom had previously followed Raphael. The souls purred.
Not alone, not alone, the silence brother, oh Father…
“Cas! What the hell!” Dean shouted at him, opening his mouth to bitch some more, but Castiel beat him to it, “It is no longer safe here.” He mused, as he felt the desperation of Raphael’s remaining forces build. That suicidal charge would be any minu-the walls shook. “Cas!” Dean tried again, “What in the hell’s going on! I thought you were gonna kill us!” he seemed pretty miffed that this wasn’t the case. Castiel was tempted to smile and say something like, ‘all in due time,’ as he had seen various humans do on the television, but angels threw themselves recklessly against his seal and he had no time for games.
A sigh, “I would not hurt you Dean. Nor you Sam. Bobby.” He said, solemnly, meeting each of their gazes in turn. “Not permanently, anyway. Nor would any with allegiance to me. I am the new God. And as mine, you are off. limits.” the last he growled, souls tumbling in the wave of protectiveness that burst from within his chest.
Sam pushed himself to his feet, pulling what Dean would call a ‘bitch face’ and said “Yours?” at the same time Bobby shouted, “What’s that even mean?” and Dean snarled, ”Never.” He ignored the brief flare of sadness at this rejection - ‘all in due time’ Castiel… -and tugged one of his reluctant minions forth.
“Zaraquiel,” Castiel Named him as he stepped with permission through the shield, his female vessel was short and had similarly proportioned wings that trembled noticeably behind him. “Lord,” he answered softly, eyes down in submission.
Take these three, you know where. Castiel sent to him and the young angel nodded and stepped forward, ignoring the human’s protests, and whisked them to safety. Then, Castiel sent a broadcast to the rest of his forces remaining on earth, Take point around Robert Singer’s salvage yard. Consider it Hallowed Ground. I will take care of this myself.
Those loyal to him taken care of, Castiel carefully folded away soft wings of feathers and leather, shaking out ones covered in plate, furred talons, and thorny spines. Souls glittered against the hard surfaces like dewdrops; power glowed with heat behind his ribs and warmed him through with anticipation. Confident, head held high, he ripped down his seal and flew out to meet an army.
At his appearance a couple - very few mind you - of the angels fell to their knees, eyes wide with terror and mental agony. Many others stood back, lost without orders and more so with no contact with their brothers. The rest mindlessly threw themselves upon Castiel like rabid animals, a flurry of Grace, feathers, shining swords, and maddened eyes.
Castiel took a moment to let himself pity them. This is what he would have been when he was cut off from the Host himself, had he not had a safe harbor - a tether, a lifeline. All an angel really needed was one.
Dean had been his.
Done with being passive, Castiel sent out a burst of power, the souls rushing to fill the depletion smoothly as if he hadn’t expended any energy at all. Angels were flung away from him, wings spreading to slow their descent and Castiel couldn’t help but grin - the expression felt wrong on his face, he shouldn’t be enjoying this!
Castiel leapt, wicked wings tearing at the angel’s vulnerable ones as he passed. Metallic, Grace-soaked feathers floated to the earth, scorching the ground black where they burned and angel voice screeched with pain and horror. He suddenly recognized one of Raphael’s lieutenants and materialized his sword - the blade no longer silver but seemingly a hole in space, a matted black that sucked in the light around it - and swiped out with it dispassionately, completely separating the powerful angel from his left wing. Souls crowed in triumph, writhing within him in glee.
The others around him paused in shock as he grabbed the lieutenant’s vessel by the throat, pulling him around so that the man’s back was exposed to him. Castiel looked up, meeting the disbelief in their eyes with a tight jaw, making an example of those who defied him. Face impassive, he cut through the angel’s remaining wing, the resulting explosion of Grace underlighting his spread, monstrous wings into terrifying shadowed things.
Castiel dropped the now sobbing human to the ground, his keening cries loud in the sudden silence.
Slowly, oh so slowly, the angels still standing sank to their knees.
Castiel stepped forward, and reached for the first, sliding his hand into the angel’s hair and shoving his head down gently, forcing him into a seiza, then a full bow. The vessel’s back curved willingly under his touch, his once brother gasping in fear when the movement exposed his wings. He reached out to lay his free hand between the angel’s wings, tension thick in the air - if angels had need to breathe he had no doubt they’d all be holding their breath - and seared the sigil of his Name under his palm through the vessel and into the angel’s true form. He whimpered as he was branded, but made no move to shake off his Lord. Satisfied, Castiel mentally reached through his sigil, and let his new follower connect to his mind.
The angel sagged with a soft cry, forehead touching the ground as he went limp in gratitude, Grace eagerly pressing against Castiel in a sinuous ripple expressing fear and sorrow and -
Alone, alone, so alone, don’t leave me.
He carded his claws gingerly through the angel’s wing as he passed, hand reaching for the second nearest body and having to repeat the motions, as the new angel couldn’t seem to tear his wondering gaze from the first, whom had risen to his feet with an awed expression. As he pushed the female vessel’s head forward, he could see other angels in his periphery catch on and bow down preemptively.
His chest swelled with pride. Souls chirruped in confusion at the abrupt end to the violence and he shushed them calmly, as if they were children in need of reassurance.
Night had long since become day, which became night again as he went through the ranks. The tension had bled after a few hours, at least until he came across another of Raphael’s more avid followers, when he severed them from their wings with brutal efficiency. The sullen weight of souls lightened at this action; power sparking off Castiel in bright little flares with their excitement.
More time passed, of which he had no notice as he doled out forgiveness and punishment in turn. Raphael’s remaining inner circle had fled, but he could see the path they had flown like bright neon signs. He would follow them later, it made no matter to him. Their ends were simply inevitable.
He was just about done when there was a squeal of terror from Zaraquiel - along with confusion from some of his other followers - and Castiel’s head jerked up, eyes narrowing as he discovered them across the planet from where they had been stationed to watch over the Winchesters until his return. His query was met with an embarrassed, Banishing sigil, my Lord. Apologies…
Castiel sighed, Forgiven; you knew not their resourcefulness, then he mumbled to himself, exasperated and fond, Nor their stubbornness… humans.
He sent orders to those remaining on the premises to hold their ground, and to be more cautious. The Winchesters were human, not stupid.
He continued, hoping to finish quickly and return to his mate’s side. Dean was nothing but trouble.
Castiel was certain that he was worth it.
Continues here.
Author: ryouseiteki
Rating: PG-13
Word count: Approx 1600
Characters/Pairing: Castiel, Dean, Bobby, Sam, passing mention of Raphael, angels (one-sided Castiel/Dean)
Warnings/Spoilers: Possibly disturbing imagery, some spoilers for 6x22
Summary/Prompt: Take point around Robert Singer’s salvage yard. Consider it Hallowed Ground. I will take care of this myself.
A/N: Not beta'd, let me know if anything is worded bad or spelled wrong or whatever. I haven't even read over it once, here it is straight! XD
Sorry that this one is shorter than the last one, I think I need more practice.
All of it for You | Corrupts Absolutely | What it's like | Severe Punishment | Instinct | A Few Changes
After some hesitation, a few of the angels stationed outside - most of them from his own, rebel army - abruptly returned to Heaven and sent him gentle brushes of Grace in acquiescence. He took a moment to memorize and acknowledge them separately, and waited a minute more before reaching out with his new powers and firmly shutting the Gates.
Outside, angels held their weapons and looked at each other in confusion. Even if they could agree that they would not accept Castiel as their new leader, they had no orders to follow; it would take awhile for them to decide how to approach the situation - most likely in a suicidal charge.
Castiel raised his hand, not noticing Sam ducking out from in front of him thinking he was in the line of fire, and clenched it tightly into a fist before jerking back in a sharp motion, severing the Host’s communication on the earthly plane.
Immediately, angelic screams filled the air.
Human cries of pain and the sound of glass shattering on the floors above brought him back to himself and he blinked, sealing the room from his once brother’s fearful and agonizing wails. Looking around he noticed Robert - honestly, the only human in the room with any survival instinct - on his knees, Samuel was on the floor from his frantic roll out of the way, and Dean was still stubbornly standing to the side. All had hands clamped over their ears and scrunched expressions.
He could sense the angel’s frantic attempts to leave the physical plane, attempts that were rebuffed by the Gates that remained closed to them. Grace reached for him desperately, pleading, begging.
The silence, the silence, oh brother, mercy, please, brother, forgive.
Castiel opened his mind to his remaining forces, but did not re-open them to each other, nor did he allow them to retreat home. Nonetheless, he was almost overwhelmed by their relief. He ignored the calls of those whom had previously followed Raphael. The souls purred.
Not alone, not alone, the silence brother, oh Father…
“Cas! What the hell!” Dean shouted at him, opening his mouth to bitch some more, but Castiel beat him to it, “It is no longer safe here.” He mused, as he felt the desperation of Raphael’s remaining forces build. That suicidal charge would be any minu-the walls shook. “Cas!” Dean tried again, “What in the hell’s going on! I thought you were gonna kill us!” he seemed pretty miffed that this wasn’t the case. Castiel was tempted to smile and say something like, ‘all in due time,’ as he had seen various humans do on the television, but angels threw themselves recklessly against his seal and he had no time for games.
A sigh, “I would not hurt you Dean. Nor you Sam. Bobby.” He said, solemnly, meeting each of their gazes in turn. “Not permanently, anyway. Nor would any with allegiance to me. I am the new God. And as mine, you are off. limits.” the last he growled, souls tumbling in the wave of protectiveness that burst from within his chest.
Sam pushed himself to his feet, pulling what Dean would call a ‘bitch face’ and said “Yours?” at the same time Bobby shouted, “What’s that even mean?” and Dean snarled, ”Never.” He ignored the brief flare of sadness at this rejection - ‘all in due time’ Castiel… -and tugged one of his reluctant minions forth.
“Zaraquiel,” Castiel Named him as he stepped with permission through the shield, his female vessel was short and had similarly proportioned wings that trembled noticeably behind him. “Lord,” he answered softly, eyes down in submission.
Take these three, you know where. Castiel sent to him and the young angel nodded and stepped forward, ignoring the human’s protests, and whisked them to safety. Then, Castiel sent a broadcast to the rest of his forces remaining on earth, Take point around Robert Singer’s salvage yard. Consider it Hallowed Ground. I will take care of this myself.
Those loyal to him taken care of, Castiel carefully folded away soft wings of feathers and leather, shaking out ones covered in plate, furred talons, and thorny spines. Souls glittered against the hard surfaces like dewdrops; power glowed with heat behind his ribs and warmed him through with anticipation. Confident, head held high, he ripped down his seal and flew out to meet an army.
At his appearance a couple - very few mind you - of the angels fell to their knees, eyes wide with terror and mental agony. Many others stood back, lost without orders and more so with no contact with their brothers. The rest mindlessly threw themselves upon Castiel like rabid animals, a flurry of Grace, feathers, shining swords, and maddened eyes.
Castiel took a moment to let himself pity them. This is what he would have been when he was cut off from the Host himself, had he not had a safe harbor - a tether, a lifeline. All an angel really needed was one.
Dean had been his.
Done with being passive, Castiel sent out a burst of power, the souls rushing to fill the depletion smoothly as if he hadn’t expended any energy at all. Angels were flung away from him, wings spreading to slow their descent and Castiel couldn’t help but grin - the expression felt wrong on his face, he shouldn’t be enjoying this!
Castiel leapt, wicked wings tearing at the angel’s vulnerable ones as he passed. Metallic, Grace-soaked feathers floated to the earth, scorching the ground black where they burned and angel voice screeched with pain and horror. He suddenly recognized one of Raphael’s lieutenants and materialized his sword - the blade no longer silver but seemingly a hole in space, a matted black that sucked in the light around it - and swiped out with it dispassionately, completely separating the powerful angel from his left wing. Souls crowed in triumph, writhing within him in glee.
The others around him paused in shock as he grabbed the lieutenant’s vessel by the throat, pulling him around so that the man’s back was exposed to him. Castiel looked up, meeting the disbelief in their eyes with a tight jaw, making an example of those who defied him. Face impassive, he cut through the angel’s remaining wing, the resulting explosion of Grace underlighting his spread, monstrous wings into terrifying shadowed things.
Castiel dropped the now sobbing human to the ground, his keening cries loud in the sudden silence.
Slowly, oh so slowly, the angels still standing sank to their knees.
Castiel stepped forward, and reached for the first, sliding his hand into the angel’s hair and shoving his head down gently, forcing him into a seiza, then a full bow. The vessel’s back curved willingly under his touch, his once brother gasping in fear when the movement exposed his wings. He reached out to lay his free hand between the angel’s wings, tension thick in the air - if angels had need to breathe he had no doubt they’d all be holding their breath - and seared the sigil of his Name under his palm through the vessel and into the angel’s true form. He whimpered as he was branded, but made no move to shake off his Lord. Satisfied, Castiel mentally reached through his sigil, and let his new follower connect to his mind.
The angel sagged with a soft cry, forehead touching the ground as he went limp in gratitude, Grace eagerly pressing against Castiel in a sinuous ripple expressing fear and sorrow and -
Alone, alone, so alone, don’t leave me.
He carded his claws gingerly through the angel’s wing as he passed, hand reaching for the second nearest body and having to repeat the motions, as the new angel couldn’t seem to tear his wondering gaze from the first, whom had risen to his feet with an awed expression. As he pushed the female vessel’s head forward, he could see other angels in his periphery catch on and bow down preemptively.
His chest swelled with pride. Souls chirruped in confusion at the abrupt end to the violence and he shushed them calmly, as if they were children in need of reassurance.
Night had long since become day, which became night again as he went through the ranks. The tension had bled after a few hours, at least until he came across another of Raphael’s more avid followers, when he severed them from their wings with brutal efficiency. The sullen weight of souls lightened at this action; power sparking off Castiel in bright little flares with their excitement.
More time passed, of which he had no notice as he doled out forgiveness and punishment in turn. Raphael’s remaining inner circle had fled, but he could see the path they had flown like bright neon signs. He would follow them later, it made no matter to him. Their ends were simply inevitable.
He was just about done when there was a squeal of terror from Zaraquiel - along with confusion from some of his other followers - and Castiel’s head jerked up, eyes narrowing as he discovered them across the planet from where they had been stationed to watch over the Winchesters until his return. His query was met with an embarrassed, Banishing sigil, my Lord. Apologies…
Castiel sighed, Forgiven; you knew not their resourcefulness, then he mumbled to himself, exasperated and fond, Nor their stubbornness… humans.
He sent orders to those remaining on the premises to hold their ground, and to be more cautious. The Winchesters were human, not stupid.
He continued, hoping to finish quickly and return to his mate’s side. Dean was nothing but trouble.
Castiel was certain that he was worth it.
Continues here.