Disclaimer: Yea, I don't own anything, property of the kripke.
Pairing: Gen now, maybe Dean/Cas later
Warnings: blood, h/c, whumpin'
Summary: events after 6.22
A/N: This is my first fanfic ever, and I'm a pretty awful storyteller, so fingers crossed here. Also, this was written mainly because I have an unhealthy appetite for the Dean/Cas h/c, because I eat this stuff for breakfast and I'm running out of milk...? The title is from the St. Vincent song of the same name.
Marrow
Kneeling in a damp field, he drew his hand away from his abdomen to find it soaked in blood, digits and palm slick with a red as dark as black in the fading light. Tan, navy and white all drenched in an equally caliginous crimson.
Hollow. A sense of nothingness began to travel from the base of his skull to drag down at his consciousness, pressing against the corners of his vision until the nothingness pulled him under its hazy embrace.
Losing focus, his limbs giving out, he remembers falling, although he couldn't really remember where he landed.
/ / / / /
Dean launched his cellphone across the room, and then proceeded to promptly launch his face into his palms as his elbows rested at the knee.
"Goddamn stupid sonuvabitch angels never answer the goddamn phone-"
"Could you please get yourself together here, Dean?"
Dean shot back at Sam one hell of a death glare.
"You're fussing. Pining. Again. Calling him another fifty times isn't going to make him magically pick up" the younger Winchester remarked.
"Excuse me Samantha for having a little bit of anxiety right now. Were you aware that cas's sweet new super-nuke powers could easily obliterate half of this planet, and we have absolutely no idea where he is or how to stop him?" Dean retorted, "Or did you fall asleep during that part?"
"You don't have to be rude, Dean. You're under a lot of stress right now, hell both of us are, but you've gotta settle down. We're gonna figure out a way how to change Cas back, but you've got to have some patience and trust me on this one. It's not going to be an easy fight, not by a long shot, but unless we want this to turn into a suicide mission, we've got to prepare, learn what we're up against".
"Oh yeah? Far as I remember, last time we checked the internet on 'how to find God' we came up dry".
"Well, we're sure as hell not going to get anywhere soon if you're just gonna keep calling him all day. C'mon, I've got some old books you can sift through while I make some calls" said Sam.
"… Fine."
Sam let slip a sideways smirk.
"But I get to pick where we eat breakfast."
\ \ \ \ \
Twenty seconds.
Twenty seconds of ineffable pain, growing exponentially by the moment. He reached out in a last ditch effort, the only way he knew how.
Coughing and drowning in his own vitality, a void in his chest, he tumbled face first back into nothing.
/ / / / /
Twenty seconds, and Dean found himself at the hands of an extremely upset Sam.
"DEAN! Snap out of it!"
"Jesus, I'm good already! What're you spazzing out about! And why do you have your hands on me?"
Sam remained perfectly still, staring, speechless.
"… And why are we stopped?" Dean wondered aloud.
"You practically had a stroke, Dean! One minute everything was fine, then the next, you're seizing, unresponsive, and I've got to grab the wheel to get us off the road! What's going on!"
"Uhh… how long've I been out?"
"I don't know, just long enough to swerve into oncoming traffic and nearly kill us both!" Sam finally pulled away, only to shakily grab a flashlight from the glovebox and roughly shine it into Dean's pupils.
"Not like I could help it or anything," Dean pushed his brother away and leaned back in his seat, "Not like I tried to have a seizure."
Sam held up on the flashlight for a moment, "Well, I'm glad you're okay, but if something's going on then yo-"
"Whoa, Sam, shut up. Take a look at this"
Sam followed Dean's gaze to where he was staring up at the interior roof of the impala, where he'd scratched into the hard leather surface with his bare fingernails. The evidence was barely legible, but resembled some form of code. The brothers sat there staring, silent, dumbfounded for several moments at the cryptic patterns.
"I think it's from Cas," Dean blurted out.
"Wait… and why are you saying this?"
"Because I just know it, ok? Don't even start with me about this, but I've been getting these vibes that he's in deeper shit than the usual. This just feels like him."
"Well, I guess you'd know. Do you think that eipsode of of yours had anything to do with it?" Sam had that look in his eyes again. The kind that forcasts geekery of the highest offense.
"I think so. Actually, I'm like a hundred percent sure of it," Dean pondered, "You think you can read this?"
Looking at the impala's shredded interior, Sam confessed, "I've got no idea what language this even is, but we both know where to find out".
Uhh... so hopefully that wasn't completely incoherent. Helpful reviews are very helpful :3