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daylight_darknightTitle: Practically Human 18/19
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: ~19,000 in 19 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.
Chapter 18
The shovel dug deep into the impacted earth and Castiel tossed what felt like the thousandth shovelful over his shoulder. Pausing for a moment, he leaned heavily on the handle and wiped the sweat off his forehead as he caught his breath. This must be the true human way he mused, dirt and sweat. Both clung to him as he stood at the bottom of the grave.
“Stop dawdling, Feathers,” Bobby called down from above where he sat on guard with his shotgun. “We need to get this done before sun up or your next lesson will be how to explain grave desecration to irate law enforcement officials.”
With a sigh, Castiel began to dig again, resisting the urge to throw the next mound of dirt in Bobby’s direction. He distinctly recalled believing that hunting involved more fighting and less manual labour. His arms and back ached as if trying to remind him he still wore a human body. The child’s grave marker loomed above him, a seven foot tall, stone angel with wings folded and arms outstretched. Castiel spent most of his time digging with his head bowed and avoided looking up as much as he could.
He had almost reached as far down as the coffin when he suddenly felt cold fingers encircle his neck from behind and begin to squeeze.
For an agonizing second, he couldn't breathe. Panic shot through him, lungs screaming as he became aware of just how necessary air was to him now and he wondered whether this was what it felt like to drown. Then Bobby cursed and Castiel heard the loud crack of a gunshot. The fingers disappeared and Castiel gasped a deep lungful of air.
“I knew it. Nothing’s ever simple,” grumbled Bobby. “Better hurry it up, Feathers. She’ll be back and even more pissed.”
Earth flew as Castiel did his best to double his speed. Every so often, he’d feel a brush of cold air and hear the sound of another gunshot. He managed to reach the coffin in a matter of minutes, but before he could open it, he heard a strangled gasp from Bobby and looked up to see the thin, wispy form of the little girl with her hands clenched around the old hunter’s neck.
Bobby’s eyes were bulging as he instinctively clawed at the insubstantial fingers choking him the spirit viciously holding on. There was something extremely disturbing about seeing such an expression of rage on the face of a girl in long, blond pigtails and a green and white checkered dress, but Castiel didn’t have time to contemplate how an innocent child could become a monster. He reached for his shotgun that lay near the edge of the grave and took careful aim. The blast of rock salt flew right through the ghost’s head. She vanished into mist.
“Good shot,” said Bobby hoarsely once he could speak again. “Now finish it up.”
Dumping the shotgun, Castiel reached back into the grave and began to prize open the lid. The rusty hinges caught, but he forced them open. Inside the coffin, the tattered remains of the checkered dress still clung to the small skeletal corpse, but Castiel barely glanced at it. He pulled out the container of salt from his coat pocket and spread it liberally over the remains followed by the lighter fluid; then he quickly got out of the grave.
He had lit a match and was about to drop it in when Bobby called out a warning. Looking up, he saw the statue of the angel falling towards him. Blindly, he tossed the lit match in the direction of the grave and fell to the ground, desperately trying to roll out of the way. He felt a whoosh of air and the quaking impact against the ground as the statue landed mere inches from where he lay on the grass.
For a moment, everything was quiet except for the faint crackling of flames.
Then Bobby called out, “You alright, Cas?”
Castiel got shakily to his feet. “I’m fine.” He stepped around the stone angel noting it now had a broken arm and a deep crack through its right wing.
Rushing fire was filling the yawning grave. Castiel watched as it reduced everything within to ash.
“Not bad,” said Bobby setting down the shotgun on his lap. “Just remember next time it might not be so easy.”
Pausing as he bent to retrieve the shovel, the former angel gazed at Bobby in wide eyed disbelief. The old hunter stared back wearing a wide grin.
And Castiel suddenly found that he was smiling too.
******
“You’ve reached the voicemail of Dean, so speak up or shut up.”
Frowning, Castiel disconnected the call, not bothering to leave a message. There would be no point. He’d already left five. It had been four hours since his first.
Because of the hunt, Castiel had been unable to call Dean as usual the night before which made it over forty-eight hours since they’d last spoke. Still, there was no reason to suspect something was wrong. Dean could be out late somewhere without cell reception or his phone could simply be dead.
But then, Dean was notorious for finding trouble and he’d never missed a call before.
Castiel opened his cell and dialled again.
Chapter 19
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: ~19,000 in 19 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.
Chapter 18
The shovel dug deep into the impacted earth and Castiel tossed what felt like the thousandth shovelful over his shoulder. Pausing for a moment, he leaned heavily on the handle and wiped the sweat off his forehead as he caught his breath. This must be the true human way he mused, dirt and sweat. Both clung to him as he stood at the bottom of the grave.
“Stop dawdling, Feathers,” Bobby called down from above where he sat on guard with his shotgun. “We need to get this done before sun up or your next lesson will be how to explain grave desecration to irate law enforcement officials.”
With a sigh, Castiel began to dig again, resisting the urge to throw the next mound of dirt in Bobby’s direction. He distinctly recalled believing that hunting involved more fighting and less manual labour. His arms and back ached as if trying to remind him he still wore a human body. The child’s grave marker loomed above him, a seven foot tall, stone angel with wings folded and arms outstretched. Castiel spent most of his time digging with his head bowed and avoided looking up as much as he could.
He had almost reached as far down as the coffin when he suddenly felt cold fingers encircle his neck from behind and begin to squeeze.
For an agonizing second, he couldn't breathe. Panic shot through him, lungs screaming as he became aware of just how necessary air was to him now and he wondered whether this was what it felt like to drown. Then Bobby cursed and Castiel heard the loud crack of a gunshot. The fingers disappeared and Castiel gasped a deep lungful of air.
“I knew it. Nothing’s ever simple,” grumbled Bobby. “Better hurry it up, Feathers. She’ll be back and even more pissed.”
Earth flew as Castiel did his best to double his speed. Every so often, he’d feel a brush of cold air and hear the sound of another gunshot. He managed to reach the coffin in a matter of minutes, but before he could open it, he heard a strangled gasp from Bobby and looked up to see the thin, wispy form of the little girl with her hands clenched around the old hunter’s neck.
Bobby’s eyes were bulging as he instinctively clawed at the insubstantial fingers choking him the spirit viciously holding on. There was something extremely disturbing about seeing such an expression of rage on the face of a girl in long, blond pigtails and a green and white checkered dress, but Castiel didn’t have time to contemplate how an innocent child could become a monster. He reached for his shotgun that lay near the edge of the grave and took careful aim. The blast of rock salt flew right through the ghost’s head. She vanished into mist.
“Good shot,” said Bobby hoarsely once he could speak again. “Now finish it up.”
Dumping the shotgun, Castiel reached back into the grave and began to prize open the lid. The rusty hinges caught, but he forced them open. Inside the coffin, the tattered remains of the checkered dress still clung to the small skeletal corpse, but Castiel barely glanced at it. He pulled out the container of salt from his coat pocket and spread it liberally over the remains followed by the lighter fluid; then he quickly got out of the grave.
He had lit a match and was about to drop it in when Bobby called out a warning. Looking up, he saw the statue of the angel falling towards him. Blindly, he tossed the lit match in the direction of the grave and fell to the ground, desperately trying to roll out of the way. He felt a whoosh of air and the quaking impact against the ground as the statue landed mere inches from where he lay on the grass.
For a moment, everything was quiet except for the faint crackling of flames.
Then Bobby called out, “You alright, Cas?”
Castiel got shakily to his feet. “I’m fine.” He stepped around the stone angel noting it now had a broken arm and a deep crack through its right wing.
Rushing fire was filling the yawning grave. Castiel watched as it reduced everything within to ash.
“Not bad,” said Bobby setting down the shotgun on his lap. “Just remember next time it might not be so easy.”
Pausing as he bent to retrieve the shovel, the former angel gazed at Bobby in wide eyed disbelief. The old hunter stared back wearing a wide grin.
And Castiel suddenly found that he was smiling too.
******
“You’ve reached the voicemail of Dean, so speak up or shut up.”
Frowning, Castiel disconnected the call, not bothering to leave a message. There would be no point. He’d already left five. It had been four hours since his first.
Because of the hunt, Castiel had been unable to call Dean as usual the night before which made it over forty-eight hours since they’d last spoke. Still, there was no reason to suspect something was wrong. Dean could be out late somewhere without cell reception or his phone could simply be dead.
But then, Dean was notorious for finding trouble and he’d never missed a call before.
Castiel opened his cell and dialled again.
Chapter 19
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-21 11:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-22 12:43 am (UTC)The grave-digging scene was nice. Ha! And that was an "easy" job. x3 Ily, Bobby. So snarky.
Cas making a point of not looking at the angel statue makes the "Oh, Cas" feeling inside me twinge, but the smiles in the end makes up for it. Even though there's a broken angel statue when the whole ordeal was over, they got the job done. That's what counts, right?
I'm convinced there's some sort of deep metaphor going on here, but I can't be bothered to draw the exact parallels. xD Still appreciate it all the same!
Now there's just Dean as the next most pressing matter. How will things wrap up in the next chapter-? OMG, the suspense! *flails*
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-22 01:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-22 01:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-22 03:30 am (UTC)And Hunter Cas for the win! It seems he has finally found his place in the world.
Looking forward to the final chapter.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-22 04:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-22 05:21 am (UTC)\o/ Bobby.
Dean. Lord, I hope he just got worried and is checking up on them, but then why would he let his cell phone go unanswered? Dean is heading for his own fall.
So, you're thinking of writing a sequel? Good, because I'd like to read more about how Cas adjusts to his lot in life.
Laurie
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-22 01:26 pm (UTC)Oh no. Please do not tell me Dean had such horrible survivor's guilt that he... might have... ended it. Please, no.
I can't believe this story is near the end, either. It's been a good story and had its moments.