When Push Comes to Shove (Instinct)
Title: When Push Comes to Shove (Instinct)
Author: ryouseiteki
Rating: PG-13
Word count: Approx 1800
Characters/Pairing: Castiel, Dean, Bobby, Sam, angels (one-sided Castiel/Dean)
Warnings/Spoilers: N/A this chapter
Summary/Prompt: Castiel was God now. Dean didn’t get to control his emotions like that. Not anymore. So why did he still…? No! It wasn’t fair!
A/N: gsd-rtfn has really lit a fire under my bum. I've gotten so much done in the past few days! I'm so excited to have leapt over that block you don't even. But yeah, it's been, what, a month since I worked on this? So I'm sorry if it doesn't flow that great from previous chapters. *covers face with palms* Also not beta'd, tell me if it sucks so I can maybe improve a little. Please?
All of it for You | Corrupts Absolutely | What it's like | Severe Punishment | Instinct | A Few Changes
Castiel landed just outside the Singer Salvage Yard, contemplating the perimeter wards with instinctive distaste. The souls within him, repulsed by various pieces of the defensive border, shuddered and hissed when he raised a hand to press lightly against the barrier. He shushed them absent mindedly and felt for weaknesses, shoring them up as he came across them, relieved to find surprisingly few.
That done, Castiel knelt and scraped a claw through the soil, head tilted as the earth whispered softly in a language even angels found difficult to impossible to understand. As it was, he could hear the meaning clearly as if it had been spoken intimately into his vessel’s ear.
Castiel closed his eyes and reached within, sifting through curious souls contemplatively until he found the thread he desired and sent it out around the edge of the property, power soaking into the ground. He murmured in Enochian, digging talons into the dirt as he worked. The angels around the property felt his pulses of energy and Castiel could feel their focus on him; flowers shifting to face the sun.
Their surprised joy rolled over him in a soft, feathered press of grace as he completed his task and stood with a deep sigh of satisfaction. His Word had become Truth: Bobby’s property was now upon consecrated ground.
Castiel smiled as angels sent him gentle inquiries, wondering if they were allowed. Hoping. He thought it good that they did not presume, also that they felt safe enough with him to ask. Castiel was not Michael, he was not Raphael. His subjects should be comfortable enough with him to question, as he had questioned.
He gave his permission, and watched fondly as the angels crossed the barriers en mass, desperate to feel the echo of home. Many of them burst into song, making him startle. How long had it been, since any angel felt rapture enough to raise their voices in harmony? Much too long.
There was a light, bubbly sensation in Castiel’s chest that had little to do with the souls that dwelled there. The corners of his mouth twitched and he marched forwards, letting his flight feathers and taloned pinions gouge the metaphysical ground in holy swathes in his wake. When he reached the door he paused, head tilted slightly, before raising a hand and gently rapping his knuckles against the wood.
He could sense the three hunters just on the other side, and had to push down souls that shared his curiosity and wanted him to peek. His shoulders tightened when he heard a whisper and he purposely dampened his hearing so as to not overhear. He frowned, impatient, and let a few souls escape momentarily to release the pressure. They slowly floated away before being tugged back towards him on invisible tethers, bright pinpricks of firefly light.
He was flitting one around his fingers, not letting the human’s delay try his patience - although, admittedly, there was much that needed to be done - when the door slammed open, revealing a pissed off Dean, backed by a stern-faced Bobby and Sam, who had a painful looking grimace. Castiel blinked, eyes wide. The souls snapped back as if the disturbance had frightened them away.
“Cas! What the hell?” Dean yelled, causing Castiel to swallow nervously. He did not like it when people yelled. The souls rose in a tide within him and he shook his head as if to clear it, frowning. He was falling back on behavior that he had sworn to himself he would not return to.
He blanked his expression into one of faint amusement, “Hello Dean.”
Dean scowled, crossing his arms defensively, “Oh no! Don’t you dare ‘hello Dean’ me!” he shouted, fingers tightening on his biceps as if to keep himself from doing something reckless. “What was all that! What happened? What did you do? Are you still juiced up, ‘cause I gotta tell you man that is some fucked. up. sh-”
“Dean,” Sam cut his him off with a panicked expression, worriedly glancing between his red-faced brother and the deity whose expression had become stormy mid-rant. “Um, Cas? We just wanted to know what happened. We’re worried about you; all those monster souls can’t be healthy.” Castiel’s features softened at the concern in Sam’s tone, but before he could address his worries Dean broke back in, “Why’d you break Sammy’s wall, Cas?”
There was a tense silence before Bobby shoved the boys out of the doorway with a harsh glare at Dean for his protests. He faced Cas warily before asking, “Why didn’t you just fly in here?”
Castiel tilted his head, his brows scrunching slightly. Dean made a wounded sound from behind his surrogate father at the familiar expression.
“I have gifted your home a powerful threshold, Robert.” he stated slowly, “It would be remiss of me to destroy it by entering uninvited.”
Bobby’s shoulders slumped, but his eyes were still suspicious, “Them other angels had no problem violating it.” Challenging.
Castiel nodded, Bobby’s muscles tightened, “I was busy subduing Raphael’s followers, the protections were not yet in place. I-” he hesitated, Bobby held his gaze, “I wanted to make sure you were safe” he finished, softly. Bobby seemed to relax with a sigh and stepped aside, making a motion inwards with his hand and muttering, “Well get in here, idjit. You’ve got some splainin ta do.”
Sam had gone ahead and pulled Dean to the other room, and Castiel followed the pull of his incomplete bond. He was uncertain if this was the correct course of action, but even though he was now God, and had begun his transformation mostly in anger and distress, he could not bring himself to subdue these men who had once been the closest he’d had to friends.
They had been the ones to teach him disobedience, and he had no doubt that they’d stubbornly hold to their own should he push them, as he had pushed his once brothers. Unlike the angels, they would not bend.
The souls were a constant aggressive force behind his sternum, urging him to ignore these lowly humans concerns and take, feed, own; their whispering a sibilant hiss at the back of his mind. But he could hear the angels outside, True Voices raised in harmony- holy, holy, holy. It gentled him. Which was unexpected; but he had truly missed their song, and was half tempted even to join.
Castiel shook it off, shaking his wings in a motion that resembled a bird ridding water from its feathers, and returned his attention to his humans who were getting settled in the room around him.
None of them sat.
The souls reacted to this confrontational posture and his lip twitched, wanting to bare fang. He coughed instead, and dropped onto the couch, telling himself that the change in altitude meant nothing, that he so over powered them that the movement was fine.
He looked up at the three, the souls giving his eyes a bright, glossy sheen that the hunters fought to ignore. Castiel let the silence stretch. He had nothing to lose or gain in these small, petty power games, and he let his bored expression show it.
Dean took a deep breath and Sam elbowed him, getting a grunted “Hey!” and a shove in return.
“Cas,” Sam started, earnest, “my wall?” His face was tight. “Please, I just want to know… why?”
Castiel gave the younger Winchester a soft smile, “Sam. Your wall was already breaking, you know this.” There was a pregnant pause in which he could hear Dean’s teeth grinding, “It would have done you no good to cover the cracks. They would have spread unseen, like a poison.”
“I merely separated your memory into chunks sizeable enough for you to reacquaint yourself with in whatever timeframe you were most comfortable. The fact that you assembled them quickly enough to gather with the others at the time of my ascension shows the depth of your mental resilience, as I had not expected you to awaken for some time yet.” Castiel’s gaze was fond, and Sam squirmed uncomfortably at being the focus of that intense stare. “It is truly a marvel; I apologize for having underestimated you once more.”
“Thought gods were above things like apologizing to us mud monkies,” Dean barked, voice cold. Castiel dug his claws into his thighs as heat burst in his chest and he fought the instinct to lash out. Unbeknownst to him he began to softly glow.
He wanted to hurt Dean. Punish him. Show him his place. Wanted to reach out and roll the human under him. Wanted to bite and scratch and possess and dominate.
Castiel gasped and hunched over with the force of the desires warring within him, and it took him a moment to place the sudden influx as the souls influence. What was worrying was that for a moment, for a moment it had felt as if he was the source of those desires… and he hadn’t been opposed or disgusted with the ideas. In fact-
“Cas?” Dean asked, stepping forward, hand reaching out before he forced himself to stop and reel it back into a fist at his side.
In fact-Castiel shook slightly-he still wanted it. Oh, he wanted it very much.
He looked up; shocked, luminescent blue meeting green and there was a wary concern there and-
No. No, Dean didn’t get to do that. Castiel felt the beginnings of panic and he closed his eyes against it, hands leaving his legs to curve around his stomach in the facsimile of a hug, leaving behind bloody gouges where his claws had tore through his pants and into his thighs.
Castiel was God now. Dean didn’t get to control his emotions like that. Not anymore. So why did he still…? No! It wasn’t fair!
“…Uh, Cas? Are you-” Dean said, uncertain, but Castiel, still slumped into himself, interrupted with a quiet, “I have to go.” And then was gone in a soft flutter that reminded Dean of the first year they’d known each other and made his chest ache, because that Cas was gone. There was only this insane bipolar god wannabe where his friend had been. He just had to remember that.
Bobby grumbled and made his way to the kitchen and Sam bitchfaced at Dean before following. Dean sat across from the couch, still staring at it as if its former occupant remained.
Yeah. He just had to remember. That wasn’t Cas, his angel. It wasn’t.
Continues here.
Author: ryouseiteki
Rating: PG-13
Word count: Approx 1800
Characters/Pairing: Castiel, Dean, Bobby, Sam, angels (one-sided Castiel/Dean)
Warnings/Spoilers: N/A this chapter
Summary/Prompt: Castiel was God now. Dean didn’t get to control his emotions like that. Not anymore. So why did he still…? No! It wasn’t fair!
A/N: gsd-rtfn has really lit a fire under my bum. I've gotten so much done in the past few days! I'm so excited to have leapt over that block you don't even. But yeah, it's been, what, a month since I worked on this? So I'm sorry if it doesn't flow that great from previous chapters. *covers face with palms* Also not beta'd, tell me if it sucks so I can maybe improve a little. Please?
All of it for You | Corrupts Absolutely | What it's like | Severe Punishment | Instinct | A Few Changes
Castiel landed just outside the Singer Salvage Yard, contemplating the perimeter wards with instinctive distaste. The souls within him, repulsed by various pieces of the defensive border, shuddered and hissed when he raised a hand to press lightly against the barrier. He shushed them absent mindedly and felt for weaknesses, shoring them up as he came across them, relieved to find surprisingly few.
That done, Castiel knelt and scraped a claw through the soil, head tilted as the earth whispered softly in a language even angels found difficult to impossible to understand. As it was, he could hear the meaning clearly as if it had been spoken intimately into his vessel’s ear.
Castiel closed his eyes and reached within, sifting through curious souls contemplatively until he found the thread he desired and sent it out around the edge of the property, power soaking into the ground. He murmured in Enochian, digging talons into the dirt as he worked. The angels around the property felt his pulses of energy and Castiel could feel their focus on him; flowers shifting to face the sun.
Their surprised joy rolled over him in a soft, feathered press of grace as he completed his task and stood with a deep sigh of satisfaction. His Word had become Truth: Bobby’s property was now upon consecrated ground.
Castiel smiled as angels sent him gentle inquiries, wondering if they were allowed. Hoping. He thought it good that they did not presume, also that they felt safe enough with him to ask. Castiel was not Michael, he was not Raphael. His subjects should be comfortable enough with him to question, as he had questioned.
He gave his permission, and watched fondly as the angels crossed the barriers en mass, desperate to feel the echo of home. Many of them burst into song, making him startle. How long had it been, since any angel felt rapture enough to raise their voices in harmony? Much too long.
There was a light, bubbly sensation in Castiel’s chest that had little to do with the souls that dwelled there. The corners of his mouth twitched and he marched forwards, letting his flight feathers and taloned pinions gouge the metaphysical ground in holy swathes in his wake. When he reached the door he paused, head tilted slightly, before raising a hand and gently rapping his knuckles against the wood.
He could sense the three hunters just on the other side, and had to push down souls that shared his curiosity and wanted him to peek. His shoulders tightened when he heard a whisper and he purposely dampened his hearing so as to not overhear. He frowned, impatient, and let a few souls escape momentarily to release the pressure. They slowly floated away before being tugged back towards him on invisible tethers, bright pinpricks of firefly light.
He was flitting one around his fingers, not letting the human’s delay try his patience - although, admittedly, there was much that needed to be done - when the door slammed open, revealing a pissed off Dean, backed by a stern-faced Bobby and Sam, who had a painful looking grimace. Castiel blinked, eyes wide. The souls snapped back as if the disturbance had frightened them away.
“Cas! What the hell?” Dean yelled, causing Castiel to swallow nervously. He did not like it when people yelled. The souls rose in a tide within him and he shook his head as if to clear it, frowning. He was falling back on behavior that he had sworn to himself he would not return to.
He blanked his expression into one of faint amusement, “Hello Dean.”
Dean scowled, crossing his arms defensively, “Oh no! Don’t you dare ‘hello Dean’ me!” he shouted, fingers tightening on his biceps as if to keep himself from doing something reckless. “What was all that! What happened? What did you do? Are you still juiced up, ‘cause I gotta tell you man that is some fucked. up. sh-”
“Dean,” Sam cut his him off with a panicked expression, worriedly glancing between his red-faced brother and the deity whose expression had become stormy mid-rant. “Um, Cas? We just wanted to know what happened. We’re worried about you; all those monster souls can’t be healthy.” Castiel’s features softened at the concern in Sam’s tone, but before he could address his worries Dean broke back in, “Why’d you break Sammy’s wall, Cas?”
There was a tense silence before Bobby shoved the boys out of the doorway with a harsh glare at Dean for his protests. He faced Cas warily before asking, “Why didn’t you just fly in here?”
Castiel tilted his head, his brows scrunching slightly. Dean made a wounded sound from behind his surrogate father at the familiar expression.
“I have gifted your home a powerful threshold, Robert.” he stated slowly, “It would be remiss of me to destroy it by entering uninvited.”
Bobby’s shoulders slumped, but his eyes were still suspicious, “Them other angels had no problem violating it.” Challenging.
Castiel nodded, Bobby’s muscles tightened, “I was busy subduing Raphael’s followers, the protections were not yet in place. I-” he hesitated, Bobby held his gaze, “I wanted to make sure you were safe” he finished, softly. Bobby seemed to relax with a sigh and stepped aside, making a motion inwards with his hand and muttering, “Well get in here, idjit. You’ve got some splainin ta do.”
Sam had gone ahead and pulled Dean to the other room, and Castiel followed the pull of his incomplete bond. He was uncertain if this was the correct course of action, but even though he was now God, and had begun his transformation mostly in anger and distress, he could not bring himself to subdue these men who had once been the closest he’d had to friends.
They had been the ones to teach him disobedience, and he had no doubt that they’d stubbornly hold to their own should he push them, as he had pushed his once brothers. Unlike the angels, they would not bend.
The souls were a constant aggressive force behind his sternum, urging him to ignore these lowly humans concerns and take, feed, own; their whispering a sibilant hiss at the back of his mind. But he could hear the angels outside, True Voices raised in harmony- holy, holy, holy. It gentled him. Which was unexpected; but he had truly missed their song, and was half tempted even to join.
Castiel shook it off, shaking his wings in a motion that resembled a bird ridding water from its feathers, and returned his attention to his humans who were getting settled in the room around him.
None of them sat.
The souls reacted to this confrontational posture and his lip twitched, wanting to bare fang. He coughed instead, and dropped onto the couch, telling himself that the change in altitude meant nothing, that he so over powered them that the movement was fine.
He looked up at the three, the souls giving his eyes a bright, glossy sheen that the hunters fought to ignore. Castiel let the silence stretch. He had nothing to lose or gain in these small, petty power games, and he let his bored expression show it.
Dean took a deep breath and Sam elbowed him, getting a grunted “Hey!” and a shove in return.
“Cas,” Sam started, earnest, “my wall?” His face was tight. “Please, I just want to know… why?”
Castiel gave the younger Winchester a soft smile, “Sam. Your wall was already breaking, you know this.” There was a pregnant pause in which he could hear Dean’s teeth grinding, “It would have done you no good to cover the cracks. They would have spread unseen, like a poison.”
“I merely separated your memory into chunks sizeable enough for you to reacquaint yourself with in whatever timeframe you were most comfortable. The fact that you assembled them quickly enough to gather with the others at the time of my ascension shows the depth of your mental resilience, as I had not expected you to awaken for some time yet.” Castiel’s gaze was fond, and Sam squirmed uncomfortably at being the focus of that intense stare. “It is truly a marvel; I apologize for having underestimated you once more.”
“Thought gods were above things like apologizing to us mud monkies,” Dean barked, voice cold. Castiel dug his claws into his thighs as heat burst in his chest and he fought the instinct to lash out. Unbeknownst to him he began to softly glow.
He wanted to hurt Dean. Punish him. Show him his place. Wanted to reach out and roll the human under him. Wanted to bite and scratch and possess and dominate.
Castiel gasped and hunched over with the force of the desires warring within him, and it took him a moment to place the sudden influx as the souls influence. What was worrying was that for a moment, for a moment it had felt as if he was the source of those desires… and he hadn’t been opposed or disgusted with the ideas. In fact-
“Cas?” Dean asked, stepping forward, hand reaching out before he forced himself to stop and reel it back into a fist at his side.
In fact-Castiel shook slightly-he still wanted it. Oh, he wanted it very much.
He looked up; shocked, luminescent blue meeting green and there was a wary concern there and-
No. No, Dean didn’t get to do that. Castiel felt the beginnings of panic and he closed his eyes against it, hands leaving his legs to curve around his stomach in the facsimile of a hug, leaving behind bloody gouges where his claws had tore through his pants and into his thighs.
Castiel was God now. Dean didn’t get to control his emotions like that. Not anymore. So why did he still…? No! It wasn’t fair!
“…Uh, Cas? Are you-” Dean said, uncertain, but Castiel, still slumped into himself, interrupted with a quiet, “I have to go.” And then was gone in a soft flutter that reminded Dean of the first year they’d known each other and made his chest ache, because that Cas was gone. There was only this insane bipolar god wannabe where his friend had been. He just had to remember that.
Bobby grumbled and made his way to the kitchen and Sam bitchfaced at Dean before following. Dean sat across from the couch, still staring at it as if its former occupant remained.
Yeah. He just had to remember. That wasn’t Cas, his angel. It wasn’t.
Continues here.