The Mouths of Children (10/?)
May. 28th, 2009 01:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maychorianFandom: Supernatural
Title: The Mouths of Children
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Dean, Castiel, Sam, Ruby
Category: Gen, Humor, Crack, Hurt/Comfort
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: 1822
Disclaimer: Pretty sure they’re not mine.
Author’s Note: Semi-sequel to Entertaining Angels, original flavor, but stands alone. I'm currently dealing with a flare-up of my tendonitis, which makes typing painful and difficult sometimes. So chapters might come farther apart and I might not be answering messages and emails very well, or even worse than before. ;) But I still love you and I still adore every single comment and review. Thanks for reading!
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9
Part 10
Sam jolted awake in the empty room, staring into the darkness. His heart was pounding in his chest and he didn't know why. A cold spot chilled the bed beside him, a place that used to be full of light and warmth....
He sat up, shrieking pain needling through his head with the movement, and looked wildly around the room. Dean, Dean was gone. Where was he? Was he all right?
Was that all it took to rouse Sam from a sound sleep into panicked wakefulness, just the absence of his brother at his side? Big, small, in his right mind or out of it, it didn't seem to matter. Sam needed to know that Dean was okay. Not knowing was like a heart attack, a sudden loss of oxygen. He couldn't take it.
Sam wrestled down the rail of the bed and swung his legs over the edge, hissing breath at the pain of moving. "Dean? Hey, buddy, where'd you go?"
No answer, and the faint tickle of unease began building to something sharper and more painful. Sam stood on wavering feet and moved toward the door. Maybe he was in the bathroom, or maybe he'd gotten bored and gone out to see if he could find anything. He didn't know about the incantation Castiel had put on him, though, he didn't know what was going on.
The bathroom door hung open, and surely Dean wouldn't have wandered off alone in the middle of the night, would he? The child Dean was too clingy and dependent to want to move around alone, and the adult Dean would know that it was foolish, wouldn't he?
Right, sure, and pigs regularly left the farm to dance competitively at the Polka Festival.
"Dean? Kiddo? You better not have wandered off by yourself, you little idiot."
"Sam."
That was not his brother's voice, and the figure striding out of the darkness wasn't Dean, either. Castiel moved so quickly he barely seemed to touch the floor, hand already reaching toward Sam. His voice was hard and urgent. "You must come with me."
"Uh, sure...?" Before Sam could react, Castiel grabbed him. A rush of air, a tingling feeling passing over every inch of his skin like tiny lightning bolts, and they were somewhere else.
Somewhere dark and cold and small, and Dean's young voice was sobbing in terror.
"Enough."
It wasn't a shout, but it had the same power as one, Castiel's voice seeming to reverberate off every wall, filling the enclosed space with angelic might. A burst of light, blowing back Sam's hair and blowing the door off its hinges, and he saw that they were in a janitorial closet. Dean, his collar held in the fist of a man in a paramedic's uniform so that his feet dangled off the floor. His face streamed with tears and snot, and a bruise was already starting to darken high on one cheek, and Sam started forward before he knew what he was doing. That man was going to die.
But Castiel got there first. "I said enough."
The demon-black eyes barely had time to widen before Castiel was on him, separating him from Dean with what looked like a light push, but sent the possessed man spinning into the wall while the angel caught Dean from falling. He handed the little boy back to Sam. "Take him away from here." And he strode toward the demon, now cowering against the wall, justly terrified of the unveiled wrath of a heavenly warrior.
Small arms twined around Sam's neck and tightened until he could barely breathe, and he didn't wait any longer. Sam held the boy to his chest and got out of there, stumbling over the splintered remains of the door and a few feet away, where he leaned with his back to the wall just as his legs started to fold. The tiled floor was cold and hard against his rear and thighs, and his stupid gown was practically worthless. But Dean sobbed into his shoulder, still choked and desperate, and Sam patted and rubbed and soothed, doing everything he could think of to make it better.
"Shh, shh, it's over, you're okay. You're okay, Dean. I got you, I'm not going to let go. You're safe, you're safe."
"What did he want?" Dean whispered. "I don't know what he wanted."
Sam turned his head, trying to listen to what was going on in the closet, even while he continued holding Dean, carding through his hair, still trying to shush him. Castiel's voice rumbled through the wall, that deep tone that never seemed to fit his vessel's throat, as if he was trying to use his angelic voice through the inadequate shell of flesh without realizing it. Sam could imagine the angel holding the demon up against the wall, holding him trapped, a beetle writhing on a pin. Castiel was asking the same question as Dean.
"What do you want with him? Why did you risk coming here, attacking him? Didn't you know that I would be watching?"
The demon's laughter was low and choked, possibly by Castiel's arm across its throat. Sam couldn't make out anything it said, if it said anything at all.
Castiel's voice rose. "You will answer me!"
Sam pulled Dean's head against his chest, pressing one ear against himself and covering the other with his hand. He strained to listen, even as he tried to prevent Dean from hearing anything but the harried sound of Sam's heartbeat.
Castiel began to chant something, each word bitten off, sharp enough to cut. It must be the angels' own language, because Sam could not understand a word. But he could hear the demon groaning and struggling, and he knew that it was some sort of compulsion. A cry wrenched free of the man's lips, and then he began to speak in a ragged burst of words.
"Don't you know?" The words slithered out of the possessed man's mouth like innumerable snakes, each syllable bearing a forked tongue and a hiss. "Didn't they tell you? Dean Winchester must be stopped. Dean Winchester must be killed. This scheme of ours was complicated and top-heavy, that I grant you, but it almost succeeded. Would have done without you disobeying orders to leave your post and come back here, foolish God-thing. Your superiors will be most displeased, I have no doubt. Don't your feathers weigh heavy on you today, little angel? Soon they will drag you down into the Pit."
Sam held his breath.
"What did you do?" Castiel demanded.
"Isn't it obvious?" Again the foul creature laughed, and Sam's skin crawled at the sound. "We attacked Winchester's brother, made him unable to defend himself or anyone else. We channeled our magic through the anger of the one who calls herself Ruby and turned our enemy into a helpless, puling thing we could kill easily. We bided our time, and when we grew impatient, we attacked Ruby and began to war on the other side of the globe so that you would be forced to leave. We deepened the spell you laid on Winchester to make him wholly invisible and lured him off alone. And if you had come two seconds later, we would have already killed him."
Sam shuddered and ducked his head against Dean's shaggy, damp hair, breathing deep. It hadn't happened, it hadn't worked. Dean was okay, he was alive and warm in Sam's arms, still crying and shaking and undoubtedly traumatized, but alive. All because Castiel liked him and disobeyed orders and came back when he shouldn't have.
"We will not stop," the demon bit out, still under the angel's compulsion to speak. "This was only one plan of many. We failed in the past and today, but not again. Next time, Winchester will die."
Castiel's voice trembled a bit, still utterly calm, but Sam could hear the thin edge of emotion underneath. Not fear. Rage. "You keep saying 'we.' Who are you? How many demons were involved in this plot?"
"We are legion."
Silence now from Dean's angel, only his harsh breathing telling Sam that Castiel was still there.
"We are legion," the demon repeated, chanting. "We are legion, we are many, we will not stop, we will not stop. Dean Winchester will die and we will laugh, we will laugh. We are legion, we are legion, we are many."
"Enough," Castiel gasped. "Enough. You've said enough. We're done."
A flare of light shone out of the broken door, and the demon emitted one final, choking cry. Then Sam heard the body thud to the floor, one thump, another, knees and then torso. He held his breath and cinched Dean's limp weight even tighter against his body. After a moment, Castiel emerged into the hall, hair even more wildly disheveled than usual, his eyes round and his breathing fast. "We have to get out of this place."
"If it's the last thing we ever do?" Sam asked, then choked back a hysterical giggle. Channeling Dean, of course, when his brother was unable to make the smartass remarks himself.
Castiel crouched down beside them, placing one hand on Dean's back. "We're not safe here. They know where we are, and I don't know how many I can fight alone."
"What about the other angels?" Sam asked. "They'll come to protect Dean, won't they? He's important. You raised him from Hell. God has work for him." He could hear his voice rising to a shrill and couldn't stop himself.
Castiel just stared at him, his blue eyes far too wide, too uncertain. "I don't know, Sam. I don't know if they'll come."
Sam slammed his fist back against the wall, immediately sorry when Dean flinched violently in the circle of his arm. "Why? Why is this happening? Why is Dean important, and yet not important enough? Why don't you know?"
And Castiel flinched, too. "Until very recently, it was enough for me to simply trust. I was told that Dean was important and I knew it was so. Reasons were never necessary."
"And now?" Sam demanded. "Now?"
Castiel caressed Dean's back, trying to soothe his still-frantic sobbing. He placed his other hand on Sam's shoulder, for the same purpose, and Sam was not ashamed to know that he needed it. "Now, we have to get out of here," Castiel said firmly. "Will you come? Will you trust me one more time?"
Dean was slowly calming, surrounded on all sides by Sam and Castiel, his hitched breathing beginning to fade to erratic hiccups. Sam hugged him tight and looked down the empty, deserted hall, knowing that soon it would be full of people who had heard the shouting, the noise, and finally come to investigate.
"I will. I'll trust you one more time."
Castiel helped him to his feet, took Dean into his own arms when Sam faltered, and they fled.
Part 11
Title: The Mouths of Children
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Dean, Castiel, Sam, Ruby
Category: Gen, Humor, Crack, Hurt/Comfort
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: 1822
Disclaimer: Pretty sure they’re not mine.
Author’s Note: Semi-sequel to Entertaining Angels, original flavor, but stands alone. I'm currently dealing with a flare-up of my tendonitis, which makes typing painful and difficult sometimes. So chapters might come farther apart and I might not be answering messages and emails very well, or even worse than before. ;) But I still love you and I still adore every single comment and review. Thanks for reading!
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9
Part 10Sam jolted awake in the empty room, staring into the darkness. His heart was pounding in his chest and he didn't know why. A cold spot chilled the bed beside him, a place that used to be full of light and warmth....
He sat up, shrieking pain needling through his head with the movement, and looked wildly around the room. Dean, Dean was gone. Where was he? Was he all right?
Was that all it took to rouse Sam from a sound sleep into panicked wakefulness, just the absence of his brother at his side? Big, small, in his right mind or out of it, it didn't seem to matter. Sam needed to know that Dean was okay. Not knowing was like a heart attack, a sudden loss of oxygen. He couldn't take it.
Sam wrestled down the rail of the bed and swung his legs over the edge, hissing breath at the pain of moving. "Dean? Hey, buddy, where'd you go?"
No answer, and the faint tickle of unease began building to something sharper and more painful. Sam stood on wavering feet and moved toward the door. Maybe he was in the bathroom, or maybe he'd gotten bored and gone out to see if he could find anything. He didn't know about the incantation Castiel had put on him, though, he didn't know what was going on.
The bathroom door hung open, and surely Dean wouldn't have wandered off alone in the middle of the night, would he? The child Dean was too clingy and dependent to want to move around alone, and the adult Dean would know that it was foolish, wouldn't he?
Right, sure, and pigs regularly left the farm to dance competitively at the Polka Festival.
"Dean? Kiddo? You better not have wandered off by yourself, you little idiot."
"Sam."
That was not his brother's voice, and the figure striding out of the darkness wasn't Dean, either. Castiel moved so quickly he barely seemed to touch the floor, hand already reaching toward Sam. His voice was hard and urgent. "You must come with me."
"Uh, sure...?" Before Sam could react, Castiel grabbed him. A rush of air, a tingling feeling passing over every inch of his skin like tiny lightning bolts, and they were somewhere else.
Somewhere dark and cold and small, and Dean's young voice was sobbing in terror.
"Enough."
It wasn't a shout, but it had the same power as one, Castiel's voice seeming to reverberate off every wall, filling the enclosed space with angelic might. A burst of light, blowing back Sam's hair and blowing the door off its hinges, and he saw that they were in a janitorial closet. Dean, his collar held in the fist of a man in a paramedic's uniform so that his feet dangled off the floor. His face streamed with tears and snot, and a bruise was already starting to darken high on one cheek, and Sam started forward before he knew what he was doing. That man was going to die.
But Castiel got there first. "I said enough."
The demon-black eyes barely had time to widen before Castiel was on him, separating him from Dean with what looked like a light push, but sent the possessed man spinning into the wall while the angel caught Dean from falling. He handed the little boy back to Sam. "Take him away from here." And he strode toward the demon, now cowering against the wall, justly terrified of the unveiled wrath of a heavenly warrior.
Small arms twined around Sam's neck and tightened until he could barely breathe, and he didn't wait any longer. Sam held the boy to his chest and got out of there, stumbling over the splintered remains of the door and a few feet away, where he leaned with his back to the wall just as his legs started to fold. The tiled floor was cold and hard against his rear and thighs, and his stupid gown was practically worthless. But Dean sobbed into his shoulder, still choked and desperate, and Sam patted and rubbed and soothed, doing everything he could think of to make it better.
"Shh, shh, it's over, you're okay. You're okay, Dean. I got you, I'm not going to let go. You're safe, you're safe."
"What did he want?" Dean whispered. "I don't know what he wanted."
Sam turned his head, trying to listen to what was going on in the closet, even while he continued holding Dean, carding through his hair, still trying to shush him. Castiel's voice rumbled through the wall, that deep tone that never seemed to fit his vessel's throat, as if he was trying to use his angelic voice through the inadequate shell of flesh without realizing it. Sam could imagine the angel holding the demon up against the wall, holding him trapped, a beetle writhing on a pin. Castiel was asking the same question as Dean.
"What do you want with him? Why did you risk coming here, attacking him? Didn't you know that I would be watching?"
The demon's laughter was low and choked, possibly by Castiel's arm across its throat. Sam couldn't make out anything it said, if it said anything at all.
Castiel's voice rose. "You will answer me!"
Sam pulled Dean's head against his chest, pressing one ear against himself and covering the other with his hand. He strained to listen, even as he tried to prevent Dean from hearing anything but the harried sound of Sam's heartbeat.
Castiel began to chant something, each word bitten off, sharp enough to cut. It must be the angels' own language, because Sam could not understand a word. But he could hear the demon groaning and struggling, and he knew that it was some sort of compulsion. A cry wrenched free of the man's lips, and then he began to speak in a ragged burst of words.
"Don't you know?" The words slithered out of the possessed man's mouth like innumerable snakes, each syllable bearing a forked tongue and a hiss. "Didn't they tell you? Dean Winchester must be stopped. Dean Winchester must be killed. This scheme of ours was complicated and top-heavy, that I grant you, but it almost succeeded. Would have done without you disobeying orders to leave your post and come back here, foolish God-thing. Your superiors will be most displeased, I have no doubt. Don't your feathers weigh heavy on you today, little angel? Soon they will drag you down into the Pit."
Sam held his breath.
"What did you do?" Castiel demanded.
"Isn't it obvious?" Again the foul creature laughed, and Sam's skin crawled at the sound. "We attacked Winchester's brother, made him unable to defend himself or anyone else. We channeled our magic through the anger of the one who calls herself Ruby and turned our enemy into a helpless, puling thing we could kill easily. We bided our time, and when we grew impatient, we attacked Ruby and began to war on the other side of the globe so that you would be forced to leave. We deepened the spell you laid on Winchester to make him wholly invisible and lured him off alone. And if you had come two seconds later, we would have already killed him."
Sam shuddered and ducked his head against Dean's shaggy, damp hair, breathing deep. It hadn't happened, it hadn't worked. Dean was okay, he was alive and warm in Sam's arms, still crying and shaking and undoubtedly traumatized, but alive. All because Castiel liked him and disobeyed orders and came back when he shouldn't have.
"We will not stop," the demon bit out, still under the angel's compulsion to speak. "This was only one plan of many. We failed in the past and today, but not again. Next time, Winchester will die."
Castiel's voice trembled a bit, still utterly calm, but Sam could hear the thin edge of emotion underneath. Not fear. Rage. "You keep saying 'we.' Who are you? How many demons were involved in this plot?"
"We are legion."
Silence now from Dean's angel, only his harsh breathing telling Sam that Castiel was still there.
"We are legion," the demon repeated, chanting. "We are legion, we are many, we will not stop, we will not stop. Dean Winchester will die and we will laugh, we will laugh. We are legion, we are legion, we are many."
"Enough," Castiel gasped. "Enough. You've said enough. We're done."
A flare of light shone out of the broken door, and the demon emitted one final, choking cry. Then Sam heard the body thud to the floor, one thump, another, knees and then torso. He held his breath and cinched Dean's limp weight even tighter against his body. After a moment, Castiel emerged into the hall, hair even more wildly disheveled than usual, his eyes round and his breathing fast. "We have to get out of this place."
"If it's the last thing we ever do?" Sam asked, then choked back a hysterical giggle. Channeling Dean, of course, when his brother was unable to make the smartass remarks himself.
Castiel crouched down beside them, placing one hand on Dean's back. "We're not safe here. They know where we are, and I don't know how many I can fight alone."
"What about the other angels?" Sam asked. "They'll come to protect Dean, won't they? He's important. You raised him from Hell. God has work for him." He could hear his voice rising to a shrill and couldn't stop himself.
Castiel just stared at him, his blue eyes far too wide, too uncertain. "I don't know, Sam. I don't know if they'll come."
Sam slammed his fist back against the wall, immediately sorry when Dean flinched violently in the circle of his arm. "Why? Why is this happening? Why is Dean important, and yet not important enough? Why don't you know?"
And Castiel flinched, too. "Until very recently, it was enough for me to simply trust. I was told that Dean was important and I knew it was so. Reasons were never necessary."
"And now?" Sam demanded. "Now?"
Castiel caressed Dean's back, trying to soothe his still-frantic sobbing. He placed his other hand on Sam's shoulder, for the same purpose, and Sam was not ashamed to know that he needed it. "Now, we have to get out of here," Castiel said firmly. "Will you come? Will you trust me one more time?"
Dean was slowly calming, surrounded on all sides by Sam and Castiel, his hitched breathing beginning to fade to erratic hiccups. Sam hugged him tight and looked down the empty, deserted hall, knowing that soon it would be full of people who had heard the shouting, the noise, and finally come to investigate.
"I will. I'll trust you one more time."
Castiel helped him to his feet, took Dean into his own arms when Sam faltered, and they fled.
Part 11
