Butterfly Wings - Dean/Castiel
Title: Butterfly Wings
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: ~660
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dean knew something was very wrong when Castiel went missing.
Prompt #18 in the A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words table from spn_30snapshots
Warnings: Wing!torture. No graphic depictions of said torture happening, but it still happened.
Notes: Thanks to evalens for the beta!
While Castiel probably doesn't have tangible wings - at least not any that would be tangible while within a vessel - they'd make for good whump! If I ever become able to write fics over 5000 words, this is a ficlet I'd like to expand on. Until then... it's just a little ficlet.
Castiel had been missing for days. Ten days to be exact.
Not that Dean would admit to keeping track.
Dean slammed his cellphone down on the table. He had phoned Castiel, only for his call to go directly to voicemail. Dean didn’t bother to leave a message, he had already left two that day and several dozen earlier in the week. Castiel still hadn’t gotten back to him.
Dean tried hard not to think about what that might mean. Except he couldn’t help it.
“I’m sure he’s okay,” Sam tried to reassure Dean. “He’s probably busy doing angel things...”
They both knew that wasn’t true. Castiel never went this long without contacting them, at least not when Dean left him a message.
“Something is wrong,” Dean said. He tried not to sound panicked, but Sam knew better.
It turned out something was wrong.
When they did find Castiel, it was somehow worse than Dean had imagined.
Dean had been imagining some pretty nasty things, but nothing could compare to actually seeing Castiel, naked from the waist up, curled in a ball, covered in blood.
The blood.
The blood was overwhelming. It was all Dean could see, all he could smell. Oh God, so much blood.
Dean didn’t know what could have happened. He didn’t want to think about who could’ve done this... He wanted to believe it was Lucifer. Dean needed for it to be Lucifer. It would be so much better for Castiel if it was Lucifer. Because if it wasn’t Lucifer...
Castiel may have betrayed his brothers, but for them to be responsible for this...
Dean wasn’t going to ask, not now.
He ran over to Castiel, falling to his knees, body moving on its own. He’d been in this situation often enough, removing his jacket so he could wrap it around Castiel, get them anywhere but here.
"My God," Sam commented when he walked in, only moments behind Dean.
Sam had noticed what Dean missed. Where Dean had only seen Castiel and the blood, Sam saw the imprints, the shadows of feathers underneath the blood, scattered across the cement floor.
Dean looked up at Sam and followed his gaze. Dean quickly returned his attention back to Castiel, trying his best to not let tears well up in his eyes.
"It’s going to be okay," Dean whispered. "You’re going to be okay."
Castiel didn’t respond.
It was then that Dean realized Castiel was still bleeding.
There were twin wounds along his back, wide and gaping... Dean threw up a little in his mouth. You didn’t see these kind of wounds outside of hell, not on someone that was still alive...
Dean panicked for a second, his hand touching Castiel’s neck for a pulse, silently thanking God when he felt the dull thumping against his fingers.
Castiel still had to have some of his angel mojo - there was no way anyone could have survived losing that much blood. Except, he wasn’t healing himself...
Sam moved over to Dean’s side, removing his own jacket to help try and stop the bleeding. It was useless. The bleeding wouldn't stop.
"Dammit!" Dean shouted. "What did they do to you?"
“Dean?” Castiel’s voice was quiet, sounding nothing like Dean was used to.
“I’m here,” Dean reassured him, continuing to apply pressure to the wounds. “I’m here, Cas.”
“Dean, they took them,” Castiel’s voice broke into a soft sob.
“I know. I know, Cas,” Dean replied, his vision blurring, the words barely making it out of his throat.
“Dean, they took them. They’re gone,” Castiel cried out.
"Shh," Dean hushed, “We’re going to take care of you, don’t worry.”
Dean turned his head to look up at Sam, not knowing what to do, hoping maybe Sam would know. Except Sam could only slowly shake his head.
He turned back to Castiel.
“I’m going to kill the bastards that did this, Cas. Don’t worry,” Dean whispered and prayed he wasn’t lying.
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: ~660
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dean knew something was very wrong when Castiel went missing.
Prompt #18 in the A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words table from spn_30snapshots
Warnings: Wing!torture. No graphic depictions of said torture happening, but it still happened.
Notes: Thanks to evalens for the beta!
While Castiel probably doesn't have tangible wings - at least not any that would be tangible while within a vessel - they'd make for good whump! If I ever become able to write fics over 5000 words, this is a ficlet I'd like to expand on. Until then... it's just a little ficlet.
Castiel had been missing for days. Ten days to be exact.
Not that Dean would admit to keeping track.
Dean slammed his cellphone down on the table. He had phoned Castiel, only for his call to go directly to voicemail. Dean didn’t bother to leave a message, he had already left two that day and several dozen earlier in the week. Castiel still hadn’t gotten back to him.
Dean tried hard not to think about what that might mean. Except he couldn’t help it.
“I’m sure he’s okay,” Sam tried to reassure Dean. “He’s probably busy doing angel things...”
They both knew that wasn’t true. Castiel never went this long without contacting them, at least not when Dean left him a message.
“Something is wrong,” Dean said. He tried not to sound panicked, but Sam knew better.
It turned out something was wrong.
When they did find Castiel, it was somehow worse than Dean had imagined.
Dean had been imagining some pretty nasty things, but nothing could compare to actually seeing Castiel, naked from the waist up, curled in a ball, covered in blood.
The blood.
The blood was overwhelming. It was all Dean could see, all he could smell. Oh God, so much blood.
Dean didn’t know what could have happened. He didn’t want to think about who could’ve done this... He wanted to believe it was Lucifer. Dean needed for it to be Lucifer. It would be so much better for Castiel if it was Lucifer. Because if it wasn’t Lucifer...
Castiel may have betrayed his brothers, but for them to be responsible for this...
Dean wasn’t going to ask, not now.
He ran over to Castiel, falling to his knees, body moving on its own. He’d been in this situation often enough, removing his jacket so he could wrap it around Castiel, get them anywhere but here.
"My God," Sam commented when he walked in, only moments behind Dean.
Sam had noticed what Dean missed. Where Dean had only seen Castiel and the blood, Sam saw the imprints, the shadows of feathers underneath the blood, scattered across the cement floor.
Dean looked up at Sam and followed his gaze. Dean quickly returned his attention back to Castiel, trying his best to not let tears well up in his eyes.
"It’s going to be okay," Dean whispered. "You’re going to be okay."
Castiel didn’t respond.
It was then that Dean realized Castiel was still bleeding.
There were twin wounds along his back, wide and gaping... Dean threw up a little in his mouth. You didn’t see these kind of wounds outside of hell, not on someone that was still alive...
Dean panicked for a second, his hand touching Castiel’s neck for a pulse, silently thanking God when he felt the dull thumping against his fingers.
Castiel still had to have some of his angel mojo - there was no way anyone could have survived losing that much blood. Except, he wasn’t healing himself...
Sam moved over to Dean’s side, removing his own jacket to help try and stop the bleeding. It was useless. The bleeding wouldn't stop.
"Dammit!" Dean shouted. "What did they do to you?"
“Dean?” Castiel’s voice was quiet, sounding nothing like Dean was used to.
“I’m here,” Dean reassured him, continuing to apply pressure to the wounds. “I’m here, Cas.”
“Dean, they took them,” Castiel’s voice broke into a soft sob.
“I know. I know, Cas,” Dean replied, his vision blurring, the words barely making it out of his throat.
“Dean, they took them. They’re gone,” Castiel cried out.
"Shh," Dean hushed, “We’re going to take care of you, don’t worry.”
Dean turned his head to look up at Sam, not knowing what to do, hoping maybe Sam would know. Except Sam could only slowly shake his head.
He turned back to Castiel.
“I’m going to kill the bastards that did this, Cas. Don’t worry,” Dean whispered and prayed he wasn’t lying.