Log in

29 November 2008 @ 09:19 pm
Your Halo Is Falling Down  
You know eventually I’d have to give in, and write Castiel.
So I took a casual walking start: writing a post for a board I’m on.
Pretty much just revamping what happened in Lazarus Rising.


Castiel had hoped the hunter’s curiosities would have dwindled down after the psychic woman’s mishap. Pamela had pressed too close and for that intrusion; had paid with her sense of sight. The stranger, for the time being, had wanted to remain unknown to the man he’d brought back from hell; but he couldn’t stop the woman from looking. Only give her a fair share of warnings. However, people like her weren’t the type to back down after a simple slap on the back of the hand and a heated warning. The word ‘No’ wasn’t in that personality’s vocabulary. Oddly enough the greater human race were blessed, or cursed, with that trait.

In that aspect, it shouldn’t have surprised him when auditory senses first picked up the summoning ritual being spoken in a long dead Latin dialect. Warnings never worked. Humans were known for their curious nature… their never-ending need for knowledge. There was little draw in what Dean and his older mentor were doing. They were simply trying to summon the unknown name they’d heard Pamela utter before her eyes burned from within her skull. Castiel. The two didn’t know what the name signified. The only knowledge they were comforted with, was the fact whatever this thing was it was powerful enough to rip the Winchester from damnation. Allowing him to return within his own framework, that had long begun to decay and falter from its pristine condition when alive. And all that remained as a trace, was a handprint burned into his upper left arm.

The wind suddenly picked up, blowing gusts of heavy steams against the metal skeleton of the rundown warehouse the hunters had chosen to hold up in. The element tore at the roof paneling with ease as if toying with them before allowing them to slam back down upon their wooden beam supports. The zigzag line of lamps that hung from the ceiling hummed softly before bulbs popped under an unseen pressure. Sparks flew from the form of illumination. The barred door to which the hunters cut themselves off from the outside snapped as doors flung open. Dress shoes came down along the scatter of dirt and gravel. Silently crunching beneath the high-pitched screams of shattering glass.

Castiel’s form walked forward from the dirt road, shadow casting itself along the ground from the moonlit backdrop. His pace wasn’t rushed or forced. He wasn’t here because of the ritual but rather the annoyance. Annoyance knowing that unless he showed himself, Dean would not stop until he got the answers he desperately needed. And that could lead to far worse endings than empty eye sockets. Trench coat swayed softly in the dying breeze. The lamps still spit their disgustful remarks of sparks and embers down upon the trio, lighting up the figure in momentary lapses as footfalls headed towards the two men. Bobby and Dean had aimed their weapons long ago and within the echoing wake of electricity’s cries, they fired.

The rounds of buckshot and rock-salt embedded themselves within this body. Tearing at the well priced clothes the vessel had saw to wear. They didn’t hurt, the body felt but had long gone numb. The man who had once been within was no longer there. He had prayed within the crushed metal rubble and shards of glass that surrounded him to be free from the lack of ache. The loss of sensation that only came with severed nerves… and it was granted. So for all extensive purposes, it was Castiel’s body now.

Sight took in the various spray painted markings that decorated the sheet metal walls. Some of ancient times he’d seen in the dawning of their creation and others were new symbols of religions and beliefs he’d yet to encounter. Concrete hued orbs found themselves retrained back on the Winchester and companion. Guns fired again regardless of the little effect of the bullets before them. However, now that the light had descended from blinding to null the two could see the failure and they exchanged looks of distraught. Castiel moved slower now, his attention solely on Dean as body rounded in front of him. Lips pressed together as he awaited the moment to speak.

“Who are you?” “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” Dean barely shifted, “Yeah, thanks for that.” There was something off within his tone but Castiel gave a slow nod in response. Dean Winchester lunged forward, slamming a knife within the meaty flesh of upper torso. There was utter anger draped across his face as he looked up at the mirroring unpleased facial expression. His grip lessened against the hilt of the blade, frame backed up slowly with the utter betrayal handed to him by the knife. Castiel looked down at the carved bone that stuck out from him, his own fingers slipping around it tightly pulling it from its flesh sheath. Instantly allowing it to drop against cement. Dean looked toward the older man for some form of explanation, to which he wielded a crowbar towards the stranger. Without allowing his eyes to leave Dean, Castiel reached to block the steel bar. Abruptly turning to Singer and placing two fingers against aged forehead. Whispers slowly stirred but silenced as the elder man toppled to the ground. Castiel allowed sight to linger over him for a moment before falling along the one still standing, “We need to talk Dean.” Neck crooked a quick glance back, “Alone.”

The Winchester moved forward, past the man in the trench, taking a knee beside the older man. Castiel allowed him this moment, his own curiosities brought irises to the text of books. Fingertips grazing the pages of books far older then some cultures conception. The look of hatred almost burned through him before he soothed out the worry, “Your friend’s alive.” “Who are you?” “Castiel.” “Yeah, I figured that much. I mean what are you?” Attention lifted from the aged papers looking toward the kneeling boy, “I’m an Angel of the Lord.” There was a silence between the two as Dean slowly lifted himself to balance. “Get the hell out of here. There’s no such thing.”

Castiel took in an unheard breath, questions racing though his own mind as to why HE would have choose someone so cynical. “This is you problem, Dean, you have no faith.” A crash of thunder rattled through the warehouse as light beckoned from behind the stranger. Shadows of elegant wings extended high across the back wall of the structure. And as quick as they had appeared they faded into the cold gray of the atmosphere. Castiel stood silent awaiting the non-believer to speak. “Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman’s eyes.” Neck arched down as if to show regret but there was no real feeling, although it was a circumstance he would much rather have avoided, “I warned her not to spy on my true form It can be… overwhelming to humans. And so can my real voice. You already knew that.” “You mean the gas station and the motel. That was you talking?” Castiel once again nodded slowly, “Buddy, next time lower the volume” “It was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong.”

“And what visage are you in now huh, what, holy tax accountant?” The being looked down while digits gripped at tattered beige trench, “This, this… is a vessel.” The boy almost seemed disgusted, “You’re possessing some poor bastard?” “He’s a devout man. He actually prayed for this.” “Look, pal, I’m not buying what you’re selling. Who are you really?” Neck tilted to the side in confusion, “I told you.” “Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell” Limbs took a few steps forward as he spoke, “Good things do happen, Dean.” “Not in my experience.” At the moment, it didn’t matter to Dean what Castiel uttered. This was a man who’s faith had long been tarnished and mocked past the point of rejection. “What’s the matter? You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” There was a sense of hurt behind the hard stare drawn on him, “Why’d you do it?” Lips pressed together for a moment before carrying on, “Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.”
Current Mood: discontentdiscontent
Current Music: "The Noose" - A Perfect Circle
unstable_humor: Erase And Start It Againunstable_humor on December 5th, 2008 01:19 am (UTC)
Is it sad that I have the ability to do that...