SPN Fic: Sugar, We’re Going Down (or, Five Ways Castiel Fell for Dean) [3/5]
Title: Sugar, We’re Going Down (or, Five Ways Castiel Fell for Dean)
Chapter Title: A Short Lived God Complex
Prompt: Five Things
Word Count: 1086
Rating: PG13
Original/Fandom: Fandom; Supernatural.
Pairings (if any): Mild Dean/Cas throughout.
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/Underage): Blanket spoilers for Seasons 4-7. Specific spoilers for 7x21. Somewhat suicidal thoughts and one strong swear.
Summary: Castiel counts the all the ways he falls after a comment made by another Angel.
Previous: PART 1 ON LJ / PART 2 ON LJ / Whole thing (so far) on AO3
The second he pressed his fingers to Sam’s head, he fell irreversibly. Both in his own eyes and Dean’s too, he feared.
But he was doing the greater good. Raphael couldn’t rule so by proxy he had to. He didn’t know he was the one tying the hangman’s noose with the length of rope he’d dubbed freedom.
Dean didn’t understand and that had been a severe price to pay but the choice wasn’t made by him. Besides, he was convinced that Dean would thank him in the end, when the world had been saved. It had been a difficult moment when he felt Dean’s faith in him drain away but his faith in the future, in his future consoled him.
With each sin he committed, he held a thought of Dean in his mind. He was doing all this for him, for his world, for his notion of peace. When his hands became stained red with blood and every fiber of his being was disgusted with himself, he chanted Dean’s name in his head like a mantra.
He didn’t so much think he was falling as acknowledged he’d hit the bottom. He resigned himself to the fact that at least he couldn’t fall any further.
He was proved wrong when he felt the angel blade slide through his vessel, Sam wielding it. For a minute, he’d expected to die and he hadn’t. It filled him with a newfound faith; he had done the right thing.
He played with the idea of making them love him before he realised he was being childish. If they didn’t love him as their God already then he would have to prove himself. He would fix their broken world. Then they would love him.
He tried, in his own misguided way. He punished sinners and rewarded the faithful but did it all without any form of conviction. They were clichéd acts taken straight out of the Old Testament. That was what a new God was supposed to do. That what his Father had done before him. He couldn’t even claim ownership over his own actions, not really.
And all they did was cause chaos. There was a reason the Old Testament became the New, after all. It was that chaos the Leviathan inside him loved and yearned to create more of. Each sin he committed only served to make them stronger and more quickly than he had anticipated, they broke free of him. They overtook him and committed unspeakable acts, but only marginally worse than those he’d done since absorbing them.
He stood for a while, surrounded by corpses, feeling them push and pull his vessel to near breaking point, trying to convince himself he could control them. His pride still appeared to something he couldn’t swallow.
It wasn’t facing Dean that scared him. It wasn’t even being told that he was wrong and that he should have listened because despite himself, he couldn’t deny that anymore. It was the fear that Dean would turn him away. It was the fear that a line had been crossed and he could never uncross it.
The longer he waited the worse it became. He could hear Sam’s voice in the back of his head, praying for him. Had it been Dean, he would already be at his side. But it wasn’t, so he didn’t move.
He caught sight of himself reflected in one of the large windows, a ghost of red and beige, stumbling towards itself until one red hand pressed against its duller counterpart.
He looked at himself. His vessel was barely capable of holding everything in. The sickening thought of what would happen should his vessel fail flickered through his mind. They would escape; he’d be powerless to stop them. He wouldn’t even be able to tell anyone until he secured the consent of a new vessel and that could take longer than the world had. Then he’d have to face Dean, explain that not only had he completely fucked up, he’d destroyed Jimmy again in the process.
He looked inside himself, searching for that tiny spark that once had owned this body. He found him in a dark corner, abused and skittish. Castiel cursed himself for not thinking to protecting him.
What should I do, he asked Jimmy, not even sure he’d get any answer.
Are you kidding me? You weak, egotistical bastard. Crawl back to him and beg him to clean up your mess.
Castiel recoiled back to the surface, spurned by the human’s clarity. He didn’t have to ask who ‘him’ was, they both knew each other’s thoughts like they were their own. He spread his wings before the words lost their brutal impact.
“I need help.”
And for a full ten seconds he held his breath, every cell in his body waiting for the inevitable rejection. But it didn’t come. Instead he nodded, silent but willing to help. More than he deserved.
And although he relented and they helped, it wasn’t enough. The Leviathan clung on, clawing at his insides, trying to break their way out. They pulled him back and tossed him into his own corner, leaving him in as sorry a state as they had left Jimmy.
He watched as his friends, if they would still allow themselves to be called that, were thrown around like discarded toys. That’s all they were to the Leviathan. Momentary entertainment made sweeter by the pain it caused their former host.
When he stopped trying to fight them and yielded, they left Dean and Sam and Bobby and walked his borrowed body towards their greater intent.
He watched as they walked him into the nearest water supply, he could even feel the cold water biting at his skin. They let him hear Dean running and pulling up short in front of the water, before they dragged him under it. They held him down, keeping him inside the vessel while they all left it. He felt like laughing at them, telling them they needn’t bother, he had no desire to go anywhere other than down. He wanted to fall, finally, until there really was no further to go.
The water took him and he buried himself as deep in the dark of Jimmy’s mind as he could, hoping that without his influence the universe would finally give in and let them go.
For a while he got his wish, he ceased to be Castiel but like he always did, Dean found him and brought him back, kicking and screaming.
Chapter Title: A Short Lived God Complex
Prompt: Five Things
Word Count: 1086
Rating: PG13
Original/Fandom: Fandom; Supernatural.
Pairings (if any): Mild Dean/Cas throughout.
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/Underage): Blanket spoilers for Seasons 4-7. Specific spoilers for 7x21. Somewhat suicidal thoughts and one strong swear.
Summary: Castiel counts the all the ways he falls after a comment made by another Angel.
Previous: PART 1 ON LJ / PART 2 ON LJ / Whole thing (so far) on AO3
The second he pressed his fingers to Sam’s head, he fell irreversibly. Both in his own eyes and Dean’s too, he feared.
But he was doing the greater good. Raphael couldn’t rule so by proxy he had to. He didn’t know he was the one tying the hangman’s noose with the length of rope he’d dubbed freedom.
Dean didn’t understand and that had been a severe price to pay but the choice wasn’t made by him. Besides, he was convinced that Dean would thank him in the end, when the world had been saved. It had been a difficult moment when he felt Dean’s faith in him drain away but his faith in the future, in his future consoled him.
With each sin he committed, he held a thought of Dean in his mind. He was doing all this for him, for his world, for his notion of peace. When his hands became stained red with blood and every fiber of his being was disgusted with himself, he chanted Dean’s name in his head like a mantra.
He didn’t so much think he was falling as acknowledged he’d hit the bottom. He resigned himself to the fact that at least he couldn’t fall any further.
He was proved wrong when he felt the angel blade slide through his vessel, Sam wielding it. For a minute, he’d expected to die and he hadn’t. It filled him with a newfound faith; he had done the right thing.
He played with the idea of making them love him before he realised he was being childish. If they didn’t love him as their God already then he would have to prove himself. He would fix their broken world. Then they would love him.
He tried, in his own misguided way. He punished sinners and rewarded the faithful but did it all without any form of conviction. They were clichéd acts taken straight out of the Old Testament. That was what a new God was supposed to do. That what his Father had done before him. He couldn’t even claim ownership over his own actions, not really.
And all they did was cause chaos. There was a reason the Old Testament became the New, after all. It was that chaos the Leviathan inside him loved and yearned to create more of. Each sin he committed only served to make them stronger and more quickly than he had anticipated, they broke free of him. They overtook him and committed unspeakable acts, but only marginally worse than those he’d done since absorbing them.
He stood for a while, surrounded by corpses, feeling them push and pull his vessel to near breaking point, trying to convince himself he could control them. His pride still appeared to something he couldn’t swallow.
It wasn’t facing Dean that scared him. It wasn’t even being told that he was wrong and that he should have listened because despite himself, he couldn’t deny that anymore. It was the fear that Dean would turn him away. It was the fear that a line had been crossed and he could never uncross it.
The longer he waited the worse it became. He could hear Sam’s voice in the back of his head, praying for him. Had it been Dean, he would already be at his side. But it wasn’t, so he didn’t move.
He caught sight of himself reflected in one of the large windows, a ghost of red and beige, stumbling towards itself until one red hand pressed against its duller counterpart.
He looked at himself. His vessel was barely capable of holding everything in. The sickening thought of what would happen should his vessel fail flickered through his mind. They would escape; he’d be powerless to stop them. He wouldn’t even be able to tell anyone until he secured the consent of a new vessel and that could take longer than the world had. Then he’d have to face Dean, explain that not only had he completely fucked up, he’d destroyed Jimmy again in the process.
He looked inside himself, searching for that tiny spark that once had owned this body. He found him in a dark corner, abused and skittish. Castiel cursed himself for not thinking to protecting him.
What should I do, he asked Jimmy, not even sure he’d get any answer.
Are you kidding me? You weak, egotistical bastard. Crawl back to him and beg him to clean up your mess.
Castiel recoiled back to the surface, spurned by the human’s clarity. He didn’t have to ask who ‘him’ was, they both knew each other’s thoughts like they were their own. He spread his wings before the words lost their brutal impact.
“I need help.”
And for a full ten seconds he held his breath, every cell in his body waiting for the inevitable rejection. But it didn’t come. Instead he nodded, silent but willing to help. More than he deserved.
And although he relented and they helped, it wasn’t enough. The Leviathan clung on, clawing at his insides, trying to break their way out. They pulled him back and tossed him into his own corner, leaving him in as sorry a state as they had left Jimmy.
He watched as his friends, if they would still allow themselves to be called that, were thrown around like discarded toys. That’s all they were to the Leviathan. Momentary entertainment made sweeter by the pain it caused their former host.
When he stopped trying to fight them and yielded, they left Dean and Sam and Bobby and walked his borrowed body towards their greater intent.
He watched as they walked him into the nearest water supply, he could even feel the cold water biting at his skin. They let him hear Dean running and pulling up short in front of the water, before they dragged him under it. They held him down, keeping him inside the vessel while they all left it. He felt like laughing at them, telling them they needn’t bother, he had no desire to go anywhere other than down. He wanted to fall, finally, until there really was no further to go.
The water took him and he buried himself as deep in the dark of Jimmy’s mind as he could, hoping that without his influence the universe would finally give in and let them go.
For a while he got his wish, he ceased to be Castiel but like he always did, Dean found him and brought him back, kicking and screaming.