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daylight_darknightFeeling really nervous about this chapter.
Title: Practically Human 11/18
Characters: Castiel, Bobby, Dean
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and a little violence and disturbing stuff in later chapters
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama
Word Count: ~18,000 in 18 in little chapters
Spoilers: Up to the end of season 5
Summary: Some things are a lot easier to deal with when the world is ending.
AN: This takes place in a slight AU where season 5 ends almost the exact same way except Castiel's powers are never restored and Bobby is still in a wheelchair. While Dean goes off to keep his promise to his brother, Castiel ends up left behind at Bobby's as he tries to adjust to his new life as a human
WARNING: This is the PG-13 chapter. Contains things dark and disturbing within.
Chapter 11
When Bobby woke up that morning, he shifted his body from the bed to his chair with a practiced ease that only made his heart feel heavy. Rolling into the kitchen, his eyes were immediately drawn to his current, and most likely permanent, houseguest standing in front of the kitchen counter with his back to him still wearing the blue T-shirt and gray sweatpants he’d slept in. The former angel seemed strangely still and quiet, but Bobby had grown used to his odd behaviours.
“Hey, Feathers. You got the coffee going yet?” the old hunter asked glad that despite the large deficits in his knowledge, Castiel was a quick learner and was now not half-bad at making a descent cup of joe.
Castiel didn’t respond.
“Cas?” Moving closer, Bobby noticed a knife held loosely in his right hand. “You’re not experimenting with different foods again, are you?” He asked with a groan, recalling the culinary disasters that had occurred when Castiel had tried to be inventive in his cooking. “I really can’t take another…”
Then he noticed blood glistening on the blade.
“What the hell?”
Bringing his chair forward with one strong push, Bobby grabbed a hold of Castiel and pulled him around to face him. The source of the blood was immediately obvious. Half a dozen deep cuts crisscrossed Castiel’s chest in a random pattern leaving the front of his shirt in tatters and stained a dark red. The former angel was gazing down intently at his massacred chest his eyes narrowed in confusion.
“It’s not working,” he stated simply. His teeth were gritted tightly but seemingly more in frustration than pain.
“What…?”
Castiel ignored Bobby, completely focused on the sight before him. His grip tightened on the knife as he angled it against his sternum. “Why isn’t this working?”
“Cas…” Bobby spoke slowly and calmly belying the alarm that was making his heart race. “I don’t know what this is about, but you need to put the knife away.”
Showing no sign of having heard him, Castiel instead brought the knife down across his chest leaving another long gash and causing more blood to ooze down his front.
“Stop it!” Bobby yelled grabbing Castiel’s arm and trying to make him drop the knife or at least, keep it back from his already injured body. “Stop!”
“No, I have to free myself!” Castiel fought back, but Bobby refused to relinquish his hold.
Then the inevitable happened as Bobby’s wheelchair tilted out from under him, but Bobby continued to hang on and his weight brought Castiel down to the ground with him. The fall caused the former angel to lose his grip on the knife and it skittered across the floor to a far corner of the kitchen.
“No! That was my way out!”
Castiel tried to scrabble on all fours across the floor to reach the knife, but Bobby grabbed him from behind. Unable to get good purchase without the use of his legs, the hunter felt himself being dragged forward, but he held on tight.
“Stop this, damn it! You’re going to kill yourself.”
For a moment, it seemed as if Castiel was going to calm down, abandoning his efforts to retrieve the knife, but then he started to scratch and scrape at his chest with his fingers spreading the blood from the open wounds. “Let me out! Let me out! I need to get out!”
“No, Cas. You are not dying like this,” Bobby implored desperately maintaining his unyielding grip and pulling back Castiel’s arms so he wouldn’t be able to do anymore damage.
Eventually, the former angel’s movements slowed, either from finally hearing Bobby’s words or due to simple exhaustion and blood loss. He lay there leaning against Bobby and breathing heavily.
“Please,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper as he finally turned his wide glistening eyes to Bobby. “I can’t get out. I’m trapped, trapped in a prison of decaying meat and my wings don’t work anymore. I just want to be free. Please, let me out.”
Shaking his head, Bobby looked away unable to meet the pleading gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“Please.”
Tears fell followed by sobs and Bobby wrapped his arms around Castiel’s trembling form letting the former angel cry. Rubbing his back and offering useless platitudes, the old hunter looked up to the ceiling wishing to high heaven that the God, which Castiel used to have so much faith in, gave a damn.
******
Dean ran a hand through his short hair and let out a long shaky breath. “So, he’s going to be okay?”
“Physically, yeah,” came Bobby’s voice from his cell. “It took a couple dozen stitches, but he’s patched up. Luckily, he didn’t lose too much blood.”
“And mentally?’ Dean asked not sure he wanted to know the answer. He glanced back at the house and caught Lisa’s eye through the window. She looked at him questioningly, but he just shook his head and resumed his pacing across the backyard.
“I’m no shrink, Dean.” Bobby sighed. “I gave him some sleeping pills. Hopefully, he won’t be in such a psychotic mood when he wakes up, but it’s just a stopgap.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean ran a hand over his forehead again. “We have to do something.”
“Got any ideas?”
“Bobby, you didn’t see what I saw in the future. I just can’t let him end up like that stoned mess.” The image of the broken man with the dead eyes and the maniac grin had been stuck in his head ever since Bobby had told him what had happened. He’d thought the whole stopping of the apocalypse would prevent that future from occurring. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“I don’t know if there’s anything we can do.”
Dean would have crushed the phone in his hand if he could. “Don’t you dare say that!”
Bobby was never one to flinch from an angry tone. “Dean, we’ve known about angels for almost two years now,” he said his voice just as firm as before, “but what do we really know about them?”
“Besides the fact most of them are arrogant dicks? Not much,” Dean admitted.
“Exactly,” agreed Bobby. “Over half the lore we have on them is crap. We don’t know what makes them tick. Castiel might look human, but he’s not. It might be that angels simply can’t cope with being trapped inside a human body.”
“Anna did pretty well,” Dean said trying to remember the strong young woman he’d made love to and not the psychotic angel who’d tried to kill him and his parents.
“But she didn’t actually remember being an angel and when she did, she had a couple decades worth of human memories to help her cope.”
Dean glanced at the house again. Lisa had her back to him now talking with Ben as he sat on the couch eating a snack. “Bobby, should I drive down? I mean…”
“Honestly, I don’t think there’s much you could do if you did,” Bobby replied tiredly. “Physically locking him up ain’t going to do him any good in his state. The boy’s not suicidal just a little out of his head. Besides, what was that about a job you were supposed to start tomorrow?”
“I know.” He should have taken off the moment he heard, but that was the thing. He’d finally gotten that stupid job that had made Lisa so happy, that meant he would finally fulfill his promise of having an apple pie life, that he’d been so eager to tell Cas all about. Wasn’t his friend more important? “But I…,” he began.
“I’ll look after him,” Bobby interrupted with an understanding tone. “I promise.”
“Okay. Okay,” Dean reluctantly agreed. “But if anything like this happens again…”
“Then I’ll let you know and you can come dashing to the rescue.”
Dean bit his lip and shook his head, frustrated and angry, but uncertain as to with whom. “Thanks, Bobby,” he said, his deep voice rough with weariness.
“Don’t mention it. He might be a dumbass of an angel, but he’s our dumbass.”
Chapter 12
Title: Practically Human 11/18
Characters: Castiel, Bobby, Dean
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and a little violence and disturbing stuff in later chapters
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama
Word Count: ~18,000 in 18 in little chapters
Spoilers: Up to the end of season 5
Summary: Some things are a lot easier to deal with when the world is ending.
AN: This takes place in a slight AU where season 5 ends almost the exact same way except Castiel's powers are never restored and Bobby is still in a wheelchair. While Dean goes off to keep his promise to his brother, Castiel ends up left behind at Bobby's as he tries to adjust to his new life as a human
WARNING: This is the PG-13 chapter. Contains things dark and disturbing within.
Chapter 11
When Bobby woke up that morning, he shifted his body from the bed to his chair with a practiced ease that only made his heart feel heavy. Rolling into the kitchen, his eyes were immediately drawn to his current, and most likely permanent, houseguest standing in front of the kitchen counter with his back to him still wearing the blue T-shirt and gray sweatpants he’d slept in. The former angel seemed strangely still and quiet, but Bobby had grown used to his odd behaviours.
“Hey, Feathers. You got the coffee going yet?” the old hunter asked glad that despite the large deficits in his knowledge, Castiel was a quick learner and was now not half-bad at making a descent cup of joe.
Castiel didn’t respond.
“Cas?” Moving closer, Bobby noticed a knife held loosely in his right hand. “You’re not experimenting with different foods again, are you?” He asked with a groan, recalling the culinary disasters that had occurred when Castiel had tried to be inventive in his cooking. “I really can’t take another…”
Then he noticed blood glistening on the blade.
“What the hell?”
Bringing his chair forward with one strong push, Bobby grabbed a hold of Castiel and pulled him around to face him. The source of the blood was immediately obvious. Half a dozen deep cuts crisscrossed Castiel’s chest in a random pattern leaving the front of his shirt in tatters and stained a dark red. The former angel was gazing down intently at his massacred chest his eyes narrowed in confusion.
“It’s not working,” he stated simply. His teeth were gritted tightly but seemingly more in frustration than pain.
“What…?”
Castiel ignored Bobby, completely focused on the sight before him. His grip tightened on the knife as he angled it against his sternum. “Why isn’t this working?”
“Cas…” Bobby spoke slowly and calmly belying the alarm that was making his heart race. “I don’t know what this is about, but you need to put the knife away.”
Showing no sign of having heard him, Castiel instead brought the knife down across his chest leaving another long gash and causing more blood to ooze down his front.
“Stop it!” Bobby yelled grabbing Castiel’s arm and trying to make him drop the knife or at least, keep it back from his already injured body. “Stop!”
“No, I have to free myself!” Castiel fought back, but Bobby refused to relinquish his hold.
Then the inevitable happened as Bobby’s wheelchair tilted out from under him, but Bobby continued to hang on and his weight brought Castiel down to the ground with him. The fall caused the former angel to lose his grip on the knife and it skittered across the floor to a far corner of the kitchen.
“No! That was my way out!”
Castiel tried to scrabble on all fours across the floor to reach the knife, but Bobby grabbed him from behind. Unable to get good purchase without the use of his legs, the hunter felt himself being dragged forward, but he held on tight.
“Stop this, damn it! You’re going to kill yourself.”
For a moment, it seemed as if Castiel was going to calm down, abandoning his efforts to retrieve the knife, but then he started to scratch and scrape at his chest with his fingers spreading the blood from the open wounds. “Let me out! Let me out! I need to get out!”
“No, Cas. You are not dying like this,” Bobby implored desperately maintaining his unyielding grip and pulling back Castiel’s arms so he wouldn’t be able to do anymore damage.
Eventually, the former angel’s movements slowed, either from finally hearing Bobby’s words or due to simple exhaustion and blood loss. He lay there leaning against Bobby and breathing heavily.
“Please,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper as he finally turned his wide glistening eyes to Bobby. “I can’t get out. I’m trapped, trapped in a prison of decaying meat and my wings don’t work anymore. I just want to be free. Please, let me out.”
Shaking his head, Bobby looked away unable to meet the pleading gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“Please.”
Tears fell followed by sobs and Bobby wrapped his arms around Castiel’s trembling form letting the former angel cry. Rubbing his back and offering useless platitudes, the old hunter looked up to the ceiling wishing to high heaven that the God, which Castiel used to have so much faith in, gave a damn.
******
Dean ran a hand through his short hair and let out a long shaky breath. “So, he’s going to be okay?”
“Physically, yeah,” came Bobby’s voice from his cell. “It took a couple dozen stitches, but he’s patched up. Luckily, he didn’t lose too much blood.”
“And mentally?’ Dean asked not sure he wanted to know the answer. He glanced back at the house and caught Lisa’s eye through the window. She looked at him questioningly, but he just shook his head and resumed his pacing across the backyard.
“I’m no shrink, Dean.” Bobby sighed. “I gave him some sleeping pills. Hopefully, he won’t be in such a psychotic mood when he wakes up, but it’s just a stopgap.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean ran a hand over his forehead again. “We have to do something.”
“Got any ideas?”
“Bobby, you didn’t see what I saw in the future. I just can’t let him end up like that stoned mess.” The image of the broken man with the dead eyes and the maniac grin had been stuck in his head ever since Bobby had told him what had happened. He’d thought the whole stopping of the apocalypse would prevent that future from occurring. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“I don’t know if there’s anything we can do.”
Dean would have crushed the phone in his hand if he could. “Don’t you dare say that!”
Bobby was never one to flinch from an angry tone. “Dean, we’ve known about angels for almost two years now,” he said his voice just as firm as before, “but what do we really know about them?”
“Besides the fact most of them are arrogant dicks? Not much,” Dean admitted.
“Exactly,” agreed Bobby. “Over half the lore we have on them is crap. We don’t know what makes them tick. Castiel might look human, but he’s not. It might be that angels simply can’t cope with being trapped inside a human body.”
“Anna did pretty well,” Dean said trying to remember the strong young woman he’d made love to and not the psychotic angel who’d tried to kill him and his parents.
“But she didn’t actually remember being an angel and when she did, she had a couple decades worth of human memories to help her cope.”
Dean glanced at the house again. Lisa had her back to him now talking with Ben as he sat on the couch eating a snack. “Bobby, should I drive down? I mean…”
“Honestly, I don’t think there’s much you could do if you did,” Bobby replied tiredly. “Physically locking him up ain’t going to do him any good in his state. The boy’s not suicidal just a little out of his head. Besides, what was that about a job you were supposed to start tomorrow?”
“I know.” He should have taken off the moment he heard, but that was the thing. He’d finally gotten that stupid job that had made Lisa so happy, that meant he would finally fulfill his promise of having an apple pie life, that he’d been so eager to tell Cas all about. Wasn’t his friend more important? “But I…,” he began.
“I’ll look after him,” Bobby interrupted with an understanding tone. “I promise.”
“Okay. Okay,” Dean reluctantly agreed. “But if anything like this happens again…”
“Then I’ll let you know and you can come dashing to the rescue.”
Dean bit his lip and shook his head, frustrated and angry, but uncertain as to with whom. “Thanks, Bobby,” he said, his deep voice rough with weariness.
“Don’t mention it. He might be a dumbass of an angel, but he’s our dumbass.”
Chapter 12
