maychorian (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
maychorian) wrote2009-03-29 10:01 am
maychorian) wrote2009-03-29 10:01 am
Entry tags:
The Mouths of Children (6/?)
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: The Mouths of Children
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Dean, Castiel, Sam, Ruby
Category: Gen, Humor, Crack
Rating: PG13/T (language)
Spoilers: Through 4.10
Summary: "We still have work for you to do, Dean Winchester," Castiel said solemnly, doing his utmost not to sigh. "This is bullshit," Dean declared in his shockingly high, clear voice. "I want ice cream."
Word Count: 1940
Disclaimer: Pretty sure they’re not mine.
Author’s Note: Semi-sequel to Entertaining Angels, original flavor, but stands alone.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
Part 6
It was just an ordinary man, hanging around the Impala as if he had a right to be there. Castiel paid no attention at first, thinking he was merely another visitor to the playground. And so he let them get far too close to the man, blithely crossing the concrete as if they hadn't a care in the world. The blame for that fell on Castiel alone, and he would never forgive himself for the lapse.
Demons had a distinct smell, like rot, a corruption of their very essence. It was this that caught Castiel's attention, and he jerked his head up, nostrils flaring and eyes going wide. Possession, that perversion of an unwilling human body to serve a force of evil... It raised every hair on Castiel's body, his vessel responding to his own distress.
He caught up with Dean in three running strides, catching the boy's shoulder and pulling him sharply back, making him stumble. "Get behind me, Dean."
For once, the elder Winchester obeyed without question, only glancing up at Castiel with wide eyes before letting the angel push him back, hidden from the black eyes that watched them from a smiling face. Too close, only steps removed... Castiel kept his hand behind him, resting on the boy, as he carefully backed them away.
One demon was no match for an angel, even an angel currently preoccupied with looking out for a small human boy. It would be beyond stupid for one ordinary imp to approach Castiel alone, yet this creature stood by the Impala, smiling, watching, eyes beetle-black and full of glee. Something else had to be going on here. A trap? An ambush? Were more demons laying in wait, circling around, preparing to leap on them now that Castiel had walked them directly into the center of their company like a lamb led to slaughter?
In spite of himself, Castiel shuddered.
But the demon wasn't looking at him. It was staring at something to Castiel's side, and he looked down, trying to understand. Dean's small hand was clenched around Castiel's wrist, the only part of the boy now visible, and it was this that the demon smiled at.
"Hello, little Winchester," it purred, its voice a smooth rush of velvet over coals. "My, my, you really are just a small fish in a big, big pond, aren't you?"
Dean held absolutely still. It was possible that he wasn't even breathing.
"What do you want?" Castiel growled. "Give me a reason not to send you back to the Pit without delay."
Impossibly, the demon's smile broadened even further. "I want nothing from you, little angel. Just wanted to see if it was true. And sure enough, Dean Winchester, scourge of the Pit, heaven's bitch, John's soldier, Alastair's pupil, weak, tiny child ripe for the picking. Oh, it's just too delicious for words." It licked its smiling lips, slow and lascivious.
Dean trembled against Castiel's back.
"Wrong answer," Castiel spat. He gently twisted his wrist out of the boy's grip in one smooth motion and stalked forward, hand already reaching out, intent on sending this black stain on the good day back where it belonged.
The demon took several long steps back, as if it could possibly escape the wrath of an angel, still grinning full and wide and obscene. Just before Castiel wrapped his hand around its host's forehead, it threw back the head of the man it was wearing and vomited black smoke into the sky, a vile waterfall of filth spreading its stench far and wide. Castiel set his mouth in a grim line and lowered his hand, waiting until it was over.
The black bled away into the blue sky and the man lowered his head, panting and staring. "What...? Where...?"
"You are fine," Castiel said. "Return to your business."
"I was...I was downtown. And then...what happened?" The ordinary eyes were beseeching, frightened. This would be the time for a comforting lie, one of those stories that Dean so excelled at.
"You were possessed by a demon." Castiel had never been good at the verbal comforting thing.
"I...what?"
Castiel took a deep breath. He had a smidgen of compassion to spare for this poor man, but no more than that. "You are uninjured. Return to your business. And perhaps think about going to church more often."
"Uh.... That sounds like a good idea." He blinked, dazed and unbelieving.
The angel made an impatient little gesture with his hand. Go on now. He only barely prevented himself from saying that aloud.
Because...
"Cas."
The single word was a whimper, small and young and terrified, and Castiel turned back to the boy with a sharp turn on his heel, all thoughts of the recently possessed man banished from his head. Dean stood frozen on the pavement, gaze stark and staring, arms locked around his chest, face sickly gray. As Castiel rushed back to him, he began to sway on his feet. He tried to keep his senses sharp for any more demons, but it was hard, so hard, when everything in him demanded that he pay attention only to the boy in his care.
"Dean." He knelt down and folded his hands around the child's shoulders, holding him up. "Are you all right?"
Dean's eyes were fixed on a distant point, wide and blank.
By all the saints...
Castiel squeezed his shoulders, trying to decide if shaking him was a good idea or not. For the first time, the boy felt fragile in his hands, small and breakable. Until now his presence had been so solid, so expansive, filling the entirety of Castiel's vision and beyond. Pouring it into this smaller figure had only seemed to concentrate it, not diminish it. Until now.
"Dean. Are you all right?"
Dean shivered and came back to himself, blinking rapidly. Castiel sagged slightly, his grip on the boy's shoulders loosening. Green eyes rose to meet his, watering now with reaction.
"Cas... What was that? Was...was it a demon? Daddy said demons are bad trouble. It knew my name...."
Castiel swallowed. He asked the question, already sure of the answer. "How old are you?"
"I'm six." This time the boy's voice was not irritated with Castiel's forgetfulness, and his hands were not animated, lively, pushing at the angel as if he could form the larger being to his will just by wanting it. His body was still, his eyes still holding to the angel's face in desperate search of refuge. "How did it know my name?"
Castiel shook his head helplessly, then drew the child to his chest once again. It seemed that physical comfort was the only thing he could ever give this small human, which was truly a shame. Castiel was so unskilled at this, and Dean deserved better. "Don't worry about it. I will take care of everything."
Dean nodded into his chest, believing. Slowly, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around Castiel's neck. After a moment, he clung on tight, near desperate.
Castiel's heart lurched in his chest, a small movement, but almost painful in its intensity. He wondered if there was something wrong with his vessel. Maybe he was starting to wear it out with all of these shenanigans.
Dean sniffed, the tiny sound seeming very loud so close to Castiel's ear. "Where's Sammy?" It was not a demand, this time, just a quiet, tearful request. "I want to see Sammy."
"We'll go and see him now."
X
They stopped for ice cream first. Dean perked up when faced with the plethora of choices, asking the teenager behind the counter for sample after sample before settling on a hideous amalgamation of chocolate, pistachio, and three fruit flavors. He ate eagerly for a time, kneeling on the plastic bench across the table from Castiel and occasionally offering the angel bites of ice cream, insisting that he try it because it was awesome. Too soon, though, he slowed down, setting his bottom on the bench, small pink mouth opening for the ice cream less widely, less happily, until he dropped the spoon in the half-empty bowl and pushed it away with a tiny sigh.
"Done now," he said, all big eyes and mournful expression.
"Are you sure?" Castiel asked. "You've been talking about getting ice cream for quite some time."
"Not the same without Sammy here." He looked down at the table, knocking his legs against the solid bottom of the bench.
As far as Castiel could tell, he did not return to his thirty-year-old memories. It was quite disconcerting. And he knew very well that a Dean who did not enjoy food—even a tiny Dean like this one—was not a normal, happy Dean.
He made one other stop on the way back to the hospital, but if possible Dean seemed even less interested in this one, merely glancing around with jaundiced eyes as Castiel strode up and down the aisles, searching. The boy didn't even offer to help him find what they were looking for. Eventually Castiel had to ask a salesperson to direct him to the slinkies.
Castiel kept his awareness open for any hint of more demons, but he didn't sense anything. However, he had proved that his lack of noticing didn't mean that nothing was there, hadn't he?
X
Outside the hospital room, Castiel paused, his hand flexing involuntarily around the small fingers he held. He turned to the boy and caught his gaze, holding it solemnly. "Are you still six?"
Dean tilted his head in confusion, forehead wrinkling. "Um, yes? My birthday's not for weeks and weeks and weeks."
"Right." Castiel knelt down to be on level with the boy, still holding his hand. "Listen, Dean. Something happened. Your Sammy isn't a baby anymore. He's a grown man now. It may seem strange, but he's still your brother. And he's hurt, but we're doing everything we can to help him get better."
"We?"
Castiel ground his teeth together for a second, then forced himself to relax. "The doctors and nurses, and also a lady named Ruby. She's with Sam now."
"Sammy's with a lady?" Dean's eyes were so wide that it looked painful. They narrowed abruptly, sharp and suspicious. "You're messin' with me. Are you messin' with me, Cas? That's not nice."
He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Everything I tell you is the truth."
Dean shifted from foot to foot, looking to the door of his brother's room. "Okay, okay. Lemme see 'im."
Castiel took the boy into his arms and lifted him to rest against his hip again, and Dean let him do it. They entered the room just as Ruby was finishing a chant, the words low and stilted, her hand resting on Sam's forehead. The room smelled of pine and sage, and small, unobtrusive symbols marked every corner of the room, scribed in black marker and handmade ink.
Castiel stepped up to the bed, and Dean leaned over to peer into his brother's face, his hand holding tight to the shoulder of Castiel's coat. The child hardly seemed to breathe. Ruby finished her spell and stepped back with a ragged gasp, exhausted and panting, eyes ringed with dark circles, but they paid her no mind.
Sam's head shifted on the pillow, rolling back and forth, a low moan stuttering through his lips. Then he opened his eyes and stared blearily up at them, face drawn and haggard and still far, far too pale.
"Wow, Sammy." Dean's voice was hushed with awe. "You got big."
Sam blinked at him. "Wow, Dean. You got little."
Yes, that summed it up nicely.
Part 7
Title: The Mouths of Children
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Dean, Castiel, Sam, Ruby
Category: Gen, Humor, Crack
Rating: PG13/T (language)
Spoilers: Through 4.10
Summary: "We still have work for you to do, Dean Winchester," Castiel said solemnly, doing his utmost not to sigh. "This is bullshit," Dean declared in his shockingly high, clear voice. "I want ice cream."
Word Count: 1940
Disclaimer: Pretty sure they’re not mine.
Author’s Note: Semi-sequel to Entertaining Angels, original flavor, but stands alone.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
Part 6It was just an ordinary man, hanging around the Impala as if he had a right to be there. Castiel paid no attention at first, thinking he was merely another visitor to the playground. And so he let them get far too close to the man, blithely crossing the concrete as if they hadn't a care in the world. The blame for that fell on Castiel alone, and he would never forgive himself for the lapse.
Demons had a distinct smell, like rot, a corruption of their very essence. It was this that caught Castiel's attention, and he jerked his head up, nostrils flaring and eyes going wide. Possession, that perversion of an unwilling human body to serve a force of evil... It raised every hair on Castiel's body, his vessel responding to his own distress.
He caught up with Dean in three running strides, catching the boy's shoulder and pulling him sharply back, making him stumble. "Get behind me, Dean."
For once, the elder Winchester obeyed without question, only glancing up at Castiel with wide eyes before letting the angel push him back, hidden from the black eyes that watched them from a smiling face. Too close, only steps removed... Castiel kept his hand behind him, resting on the boy, as he carefully backed them away.
One demon was no match for an angel, even an angel currently preoccupied with looking out for a small human boy. It would be beyond stupid for one ordinary imp to approach Castiel alone, yet this creature stood by the Impala, smiling, watching, eyes beetle-black and full of glee. Something else had to be going on here. A trap? An ambush? Were more demons laying in wait, circling around, preparing to leap on them now that Castiel had walked them directly into the center of their company like a lamb led to slaughter?
In spite of himself, Castiel shuddered.
But the demon wasn't looking at him. It was staring at something to Castiel's side, and he looked down, trying to understand. Dean's small hand was clenched around Castiel's wrist, the only part of the boy now visible, and it was this that the demon smiled at.
"Hello, little Winchester," it purred, its voice a smooth rush of velvet over coals. "My, my, you really are just a small fish in a big, big pond, aren't you?"
Dean held absolutely still. It was possible that he wasn't even breathing.
"What do you want?" Castiel growled. "Give me a reason not to send you back to the Pit without delay."
Impossibly, the demon's smile broadened even further. "I want nothing from you, little angel. Just wanted to see if it was true. And sure enough, Dean Winchester, scourge of the Pit, heaven's bitch, John's soldier, Alastair's pupil, weak, tiny child ripe for the picking. Oh, it's just too delicious for words." It licked its smiling lips, slow and lascivious.
Dean trembled against Castiel's back.
"Wrong answer," Castiel spat. He gently twisted his wrist out of the boy's grip in one smooth motion and stalked forward, hand already reaching out, intent on sending this black stain on the good day back where it belonged.
The demon took several long steps back, as if it could possibly escape the wrath of an angel, still grinning full and wide and obscene. Just before Castiel wrapped his hand around its host's forehead, it threw back the head of the man it was wearing and vomited black smoke into the sky, a vile waterfall of filth spreading its stench far and wide. Castiel set his mouth in a grim line and lowered his hand, waiting until it was over.
The black bled away into the blue sky and the man lowered his head, panting and staring. "What...? Where...?"
"You are fine," Castiel said. "Return to your business."
"I was...I was downtown. And then...what happened?" The ordinary eyes were beseeching, frightened. This would be the time for a comforting lie, one of those stories that Dean so excelled at.
"You were possessed by a demon." Castiel had never been good at the verbal comforting thing.
"I...what?"
Castiel took a deep breath. He had a smidgen of compassion to spare for this poor man, but no more than that. "You are uninjured. Return to your business. And perhaps think about going to church more often."
"Uh.... That sounds like a good idea." He blinked, dazed and unbelieving.
The angel made an impatient little gesture with his hand. Go on now. He only barely prevented himself from saying that aloud.
Because...
"Cas."
The single word was a whimper, small and young and terrified, and Castiel turned back to the boy with a sharp turn on his heel, all thoughts of the recently possessed man banished from his head. Dean stood frozen on the pavement, gaze stark and staring, arms locked around his chest, face sickly gray. As Castiel rushed back to him, he began to sway on his feet. He tried to keep his senses sharp for any more demons, but it was hard, so hard, when everything in him demanded that he pay attention only to the boy in his care.
"Dean." He knelt down and folded his hands around the child's shoulders, holding him up. "Are you all right?"
Dean's eyes were fixed on a distant point, wide and blank.
By all the saints...
Castiel squeezed his shoulders, trying to decide if shaking him was a good idea or not. For the first time, the boy felt fragile in his hands, small and breakable. Until now his presence had been so solid, so expansive, filling the entirety of Castiel's vision and beyond. Pouring it into this smaller figure had only seemed to concentrate it, not diminish it. Until now.
"Dean. Are you all right?"
Dean shivered and came back to himself, blinking rapidly. Castiel sagged slightly, his grip on the boy's shoulders loosening. Green eyes rose to meet his, watering now with reaction.
"Cas... What was that? Was...was it a demon? Daddy said demons are bad trouble. It knew my name...."
Castiel swallowed. He asked the question, already sure of the answer. "How old are you?"
"I'm six." This time the boy's voice was not irritated with Castiel's forgetfulness, and his hands were not animated, lively, pushing at the angel as if he could form the larger being to his will just by wanting it. His body was still, his eyes still holding to the angel's face in desperate search of refuge. "How did it know my name?"
Castiel shook his head helplessly, then drew the child to his chest once again. It seemed that physical comfort was the only thing he could ever give this small human, which was truly a shame. Castiel was so unskilled at this, and Dean deserved better. "Don't worry about it. I will take care of everything."
Dean nodded into his chest, believing. Slowly, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around Castiel's neck. After a moment, he clung on tight, near desperate.
Castiel's heart lurched in his chest, a small movement, but almost painful in its intensity. He wondered if there was something wrong with his vessel. Maybe he was starting to wear it out with all of these shenanigans.
Dean sniffed, the tiny sound seeming very loud so close to Castiel's ear. "Where's Sammy?" It was not a demand, this time, just a quiet, tearful request. "I want to see Sammy."
"We'll go and see him now."
X
They stopped for ice cream first. Dean perked up when faced with the plethora of choices, asking the teenager behind the counter for sample after sample before settling on a hideous amalgamation of chocolate, pistachio, and three fruit flavors. He ate eagerly for a time, kneeling on the plastic bench across the table from Castiel and occasionally offering the angel bites of ice cream, insisting that he try it because it was awesome. Too soon, though, he slowed down, setting his bottom on the bench, small pink mouth opening for the ice cream less widely, less happily, until he dropped the spoon in the half-empty bowl and pushed it away with a tiny sigh.
"Done now," he said, all big eyes and mournful expression.
"Are you sure?" Castiel asked. "You've been talking about getting ice cream for quite some time."
"Not the same without Sammy here." He looked down at the table, knocking his legs against the solid bottom of the bench.
As far as Castiel could tell, he did not return to his thirty-year-old memories. It was quite disconcerting. And he knew very well that a Dean who did not enjoy food—even a tiny Dean like this one—was not a normal, happy Dean.
He made one other stop on the way back to the hospital, but if possible Dean seemed even less interested in this one, merely glancing around with jaundiced eyes as Castiel strode up and down the aisles, searching. The boy didn't even offer to help him find what they were looking for. Eventually Castiel had to ask a salesperson to direct him to the slinkies.
Castiel kept his awareness open for any hint of more demons, but he didn't sense anything. However, he had proved that his lack of noticing didn't mean that nothing was there, hadn't he?
X
Outside the hospital room, Castiel paused, his hand flexing involuntarily around the small fingers he held. He turned to the boy and caught his gaze, holding it solemnly. "Are you still six?"
Dean tilted his head in confusion, forehead wrinkling. "Um, yes? My birthday's not for weeks and weeks and weeks."
"Right." Castiel knelt down to be on level with the boy, still holding his hand. "Listen, Dean. Something happened. Your Sammy isn't a baby anymore. He's a grown man now. It may seem strange, but he's still your brother. And he's hurt, but we're doing everything we can to help him get better."
"We?"
Castiel ground his teeth together for a second, then forced himself to relax. "The doctors and nurses, and also a lady named Ruby. She's with Sam now."
"Sammy's with a lady?" Dean's eyes were so wide that it looked painful. They narrowed abruptly, sharp and suspicious. "You're messin' with me. Are you messin' with me, Cas? That's not nice."
He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Everything I tell you is the truth."
Dean shifted from foot to foot, looking to the door of his brother's room. "Okay, okay. Lemme see 'im."
Castiel took the boy into his arms and lifted him to rest against his hip again, and Dean let him do it. They entered the room just as Ruby was finishing a chant, the words low and stilted, her hand resting on Sam's forehead. The room smelled of pine and sage, and small, unobtrusive symbols marked every corner of the room, scribed in black marker and handmade ink.
Castiel stepped up to the bed, and Dean leaned over to peer into his brother's face, his hand holding tight to the shoulder of Castiel's coat. The child hardly seemed to breathe. Ruby finished her spell and stepped back with a ragged gasp, exhausted and panting, eyes ringed with dark circles, but they paid her no mind.
Sam's head shifted on the pillow, rolling back and forth, a low moan stuttering through his lips. Then he opened his eyes and stared blearily up at them, face drawn and haggard and still far, far too pale.
"Wow, Sammy." Dean's voice was hushed with awe. "You got big."
Sam blinked at him. "Wow, Dean. You got little."
Yes, that summed it up nicely.
Part 7