Chapter Four: Named
Dean averted his gaze downward for a moment, biting his lip and pondering just where he should start. Castiel simply sat and waited patiently, his mere presence a comfort. It wasn't long before Dean began telling the story he was absolutely sure would change the young priest's mind regarding his charge's mental stability, make him think Dean really was as insane as the man himself believed. Hell, Cas wouldn't be thinking he was crazy, he would know it.
"So it started off simple," Dean began, "kind of with what was to be expected I guess. At first I would just see the accident in my dreams, over and over again, and I'd always shoot up in bed when the dream reached a certain point- my mom's eyes. But then, one night, it was different. Longer. Worse.
"I got to my mom's eyes. And they were so... Just horrified. And so obviously dead. And that was when I always woke up. Every time. Never failed. But this time, I didn't. It kept going. All of a sudden, she fucking blinked. Blinked. What people who are alive do."
Cas's eyes went a little wider at the word 'fucking', as if he hadn't expected anyone to ever say that, not to a man in a stiff white collar, not to him. Dean paused for a second, murmuring a quiet "Sorry." but when Cas nodded forgivingly with a small, understanding smile and said, "Don't worry about it. Just tell your story however you are comfortable doing so," Dean continued, no longer even minding his hardly-there filter.
"And I kind of got sucked into her mind, it was like I was seeing what she saw moments before. So, in the dream, my parents were driving, talking and laughing and just having a grand old time. Then, out of nowhere, these big, blinding headlights were coming toward them. The truck. The guy clearly had his high beams on because, seriously, blinding. She didn't know what to do, and she was blinking against the light, and then everything went dark. The Impala was still moving, she was still driving, but the truck sort of disappeared for a few seconds, and my dad gripped her hand and whispered that he loved her, and then she could see the faintest little outline of the truck again, but mostly she was only watching the guy inside. I don't know how, but she could see him so damn clearly, and they just made full-on eye contact, and I fucking swear that dude's eyes were yellow. I don't mean light brown or gold or hazel or light green or anything; I mean decidedly, sickly, yellow. Like a fucking highlighter.
"And then the guy's eyes turned back to a normal color, just some regular brown, and it was almost like he looked shocked, like he had no idea what the hell was going on or how it happened, but it was too late. Some dark cloud came up from the truck like it's engine overheated or something and in that instant, my mom whispered that she loved my dad too, and then there was the force of the blow then everything was gone."
Cas's thick, pink lips twitched as though he was about to speak, but Dean gestured for him to stop with a simple hand motion. He wasn't finished, and now he was on a roll. There was no stopping now.
"That's how it started. It was a few nights of that dream and nothing more, but now? Now they're all different, like a new horror movie rolling through my head every damn night. And now they're not even about my parents anymore, although my mom's eyes seem to always find their way into these dreams. But they're about me now. Me and Sam. It's the damndest thing. The dreams always start with coordinates written on a piece of notebook paper, and I can't even fucking read coordinates, but somehow I can in that world. We always know exactly where those numbers are leading us, and we get in the Impala with a map and drive to the town, no matter how far away. And once we're there, we're always on some wild goose chase, looking for that guy with the yellow eyes, but it always turns into something else.
"Some person or family or newspaper always alerts us to some underlying problem with the town, and we have to help somebody before we can move on. We hunt things, and we save people, and it's horrifying. Like when did I learn that ghosts don't like rock salt? How did I know that shape-shifters and werewolves don't like silver? Since when do you chop a vampire's head off to kill the thing? And when did I learn to speak flawless Latin and exorcise anything under the sun? What. The. Fuck?"
The priest had been sitting quietly listening to Dean without a single sparkle of disbelief in his eyes the whole time, ignoring the stream of profanities Dean was so sure the blue-eyed man had hardly ever heard before this particular conversation. Cas was leaning forward with his legs crossed, resting his elbows on his things and his head in his hands, looking at Dean as though he was spinning the most believable, non-fiction tale in the world. But when Dean mentioned the Latin and exorcisms, the priest perked up. "Would you per chance remember the words to any of these exorcisms?" he asked.
The question struck Dean as strange. Why would that be the thing that Cas had to say about all this? But he nodded, half out of exasperation and half out of simple curiosity about Cas's motives, and took off in the flawless Latin he'd memorized after giving so much use in the dream world.
"Regna terrae, cantate Deo,
psallite Domino
qui fertis super caelum
caeli ad Orientem
Ecce dabit voci Suae
vocem virtutis,
tribuite virtutem Deo.
Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus
omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio
infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,
omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.
Ergo draco maledicte
et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te.
cessa decipere humanas creaturas,
eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare.
Vade, Satana, inventor et magister
omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis.
Humiliare sub potenti manu dei,
contremisce et effuge, invocato a
nobis sancto et terribili nomine,
quem inferi tremunt.
Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine.
Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias
libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos.
Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris,
te rogamus, audi nos.
Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae
te rogamus, audi nos.
Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo.
Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem
et fortitudinem plebi Suae.
Benedictus Deus. Gloria Patri."
Dean was almost short of breath when he finished, surprised he'd remembered it so well. He sat trying to gauge Cas's reaction for quite some time as the priest sat pulling his lips into his mouth and giving away nothing through his expression. Finally, Cas spoke, his eyes registering something like shock. "That..." he began, almost unsure if he should say what he meant to or simply drop the subject altogether, "is not just some dream-world exorcism... That is completely, totally, real. Dean, are you sure you've never heard that? Not anywhere? Because if you are trying to be funny, if you are just messing with the priest right now, please stop."
He looked so betrayed that Dean almost wanted to wrap him in a hug. The man almost made himself start to laugh, almost told Cas he'd been kidding and he was sorry. But he couldn't. He didn't want to lie to the man he'd only just learned to trust, and now he was way too damn freaked out to deny the help this priest might be able to afford him. "I swear I am not messing with you, Cas. And I swear I have never heard that before, not anywhere I remember anyway. And I sure as hell have not heard it enough times to memorize it."
Cas simply sat there for what seemed like an eternity, wearing the blankest expression Dean had ever seen, his face going pale as a ghost. Finally, Dean broke the silence, interjecting one more small detail. "And Cas?" he began, continuing only after the priest gave a small nod of acknowledgment, "There's one more thing. The yellow-eyed guy, we uh... We call him by a name in the dreams, me and Sam."
"Wh-what is it?" Cas asked, stuttering like he was absolutely forcing out something he really didn't want to say, begging a piece of information he really didn't want to know.
"Azazel?" Dean answered, making the word take on the air of a question even though he was absolutely certain that was the name. Cas's reaction was something Dean didn't even think possible- the man went even paler than he had been previously, positively blanching, turning the color of fresh-fallen snow, maybe lighter, as his mouth dropped open.
"I take it you know the name," Dean stated, certain it was the truth. A simple nod confirmed his fears.
Yes, it's a real exorcism, and did I ever read through a lot of them trying to find the one that would fit. And this one does. For a purpose which shall be later disclosed.
On a side note, though, I'd quite like to take a moment to make known just how much Dean's "Some part of me always believed you'd come back." line in the preview for "The Born-Again Identity" affected me. So yep, DeanCas line appreciation. DeanCas appreciation in general actually. That's a good line.
If you're reading this, thank you. I hope you're enjoying it, and I truly appreciate everyone who is reading. Another (rather fun in my humble opinion) chapter shall soon be posted. As always, much love to the readers and the reviewers!