Author: Mello McQueen
Summary: They had refused to bow and he is… he is disappointed. Disappointed, but not surprised.
Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Castiel. Castiel/Dean.
Authoress Notes: Post 6.22: The Man Who Knew Too Much. Written at: May 27, 2011. Word Count: 1, 223
.:.
That Which Does Not Kill You
"Bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord or …I shall destroy you."
A silence falls upon the room. Sam and Dean and Bobby watch him, eyes wide with disbelief and the seconds stretch. They feel like minutes, hours, days – years – but Castiel is a patient God and so he waits, allows them time to accept what has been said. To accept Him.
Something in the air shifts and the moment passes. Bobby is the first to speak, voice rough and harsh, thick with disbelief. "What in the Hell are ya talking about?" He demands. "Are you outta yer friggin' angel mind?"
Castiel turns his eyes towards the elder man, the corners of his mouth tugging downwards briefly before another smile forms and he looks down at Bobby, patronizingly. "I am giving you a chance, Bobby Singer. To live." He says and as he does so he turns to Dean and their eyes lock; Castiel's own blue, serene and inviting but so, so cold and Dean's diluted green, blown wide, panicked and terrified.
Like a rabbit… Castiel thinks and on a whim he moves. Not in the way he once moved, with the soft sound of wing beats and flight but with a static energy that pulses, rippling through the air as he molds himself into existence inches from Dean. Castiel lets himself smile because Dean jumps when he reappears.
Jumps, but he doesn't move away not even when Castiel reaches out to run his fingers along the cool surface of Dean's skin as he says, "You are not my family, but I'm offering you the chance to be. Just..." a pause as his eyes find Dean's again. They're beautiful, full of want and desperation and Castiel looks into them and breathes, "Worship me."
And for a brief instance, he leans forward and kisses Dean and Dean…Dean doesn't kiss him back, but he doesn't push him away either and Castiel thinks he could live with that. He is God and God is not foolish. Dean Winchester is stubborn. He will not submit easily, but to have him here and pliant is better than not having him at all so Castiel cannot complain because Dean doesn't push him away.
He doesn't push him away until, well, he does.
"Go to hell!" Dean snarls, and he backs away – closer to Bobby, closer to Sam – his eyes alive and burning with an all too familiar fire of defiance, rebellion. There's a sickness there too, a kind of anguish and blinding want. Castiel sees it lingering and he knows, he knows; despite Dean's words, Castiel is loved by him. He knows it with the same strength of conviction with which he understands the sheer rightness of all that has transpired. Of all that he has done.
He is God, as he was always meant to be, and Dean is… Dean is Dean and to simply be loved by him is not enough.
Castiel sighs, turns his eyes briefly to Bobby who looks murderous and then to Sam but he doesn't bother looking for acceptance – even should he find it there (unlikely as that is for Sam is loyal to Dean) Sam had tried to kill him and for this sin he cannot never be forgiven – and he is… he is disappointed. Disappointed but not surprised.
"That is regrettable." He says sadly – for he had hoped…he had so hoped… – and with a flick of his wrist, he hears the almost satisfying snap of tendon, the sharp crack of bones crunching together and Bobby Singer crumples to the ground, his body a useless jumble of bone and sinew.
Castiel smiles, synapses fire off uselessly in Bobby's brain and the Winchester's scream (Sam and Dean in perfect synch as though they are one and the same) and lunge forward in a blind rage. Castiel dismisses of Sam easily, raising his hand to throw the youngest Winchester into the opposite wall with a crushing force.
Sam slides to the floor, leaving a sickly red trail of blood behind. He isn't dead, of course, but Castiel can't be bothered with him and anyway, Sam is already dying slow and agonizingly on the inside – quite literally in fact and that, Castiel thinks, is also regrettable. Regrettable but appropriate, fitting. He sees no need to quicken the younger Winchester's death and so he focuses on the elder, frozen motionless with a mere glance from the once-angel.
Castiel smiles serenely, at the sight. "Bow before me." He says again, and Dean glares harsh and angry, the muscles in his jaw tensing, blood running hot and thick through his veins. He wants to say something, "no" or perhaps more likely "screw you", but Castiel doesn't allow him the luxury of it. HeisGod now, and one way or another, Dean must come to understand this, come to accept it and obey him – Castiel, his Lord.
And he will, Castiel reminds himself as Dean visibly struggles to stay on his feet – a battle lost in the span of mere seconds as his knees buckle under the force of Castiel's will. And the God says, "I never wanted this, Dean…" as he approaches, reaching a hand out to take hold of Dean's chin, tilting his head upwards so that their eyes meet briefly before Castiel looks away.
He gives another sigh. "So be it." He says, and he holds Dean still and kisses him as before, but this kiss… this kiss is different. There is power behind it, intent, and Castiel knows Dean feels it as the hunter's eyes widen almost comically and he makes a soft and utterly terrified sound in the back of his throat, manages to gasp Castiel's name into the kiss before Castiel silences him completely by sealing their lips together.
Castiel pushes with his will and feels the heat of all that is Dean Winchester, lingering there, buried deep beneath the skin of this fragile human shell. He finds it, wraps around it, and gives a sharp, decisive tug. Near-instantly, the colour drains from Dean's body and the light in his eyes fades, dull and hollow, empty even as Castiel holds him, feeling the beating of his heart still.
On the last beat, Sam starts to move slowly returning to consciousness with agonizing effort and Castiel breaks the kiss, releases his hold on Dean's body and watches with unearthly calm as it slumps sideways, falling with a dull thud onto the dirt covered floor empty and cold and lifeless.
Against the wall Sam pulls himself upright with a low groan, chokes out Dean's name around a mouthful of blood before he breaks into a coughing fit and Castiel says, "don't be angry with me, Sam. Instead, take comfort."
Sam looks at him and Castiel knows he wants to ask "what?" but can't, just coughs up more blood as Castiel moves, stepping easily over Dean's body, then Bobby's, pausing to look down at the aging hunter whose eyes – wide with shock and horror – swivel uselessly in his direction, the corner of his mouth trembling softly.
Castiel says, "Take comfort, for I have saved your brother."
And with that he leaves, feeling the pulse of Dean's soul flicker, warm and alive inside his body, before it is pushed back, swallowed up by the presence of a million others.
End