accountnameinuse: (Default)
accountnameinuse ([personal profile] accountnameinuse) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet2015-10-11 01:38 pm

Against the Wall

Inspired by the plurk meme: Your character is minding their own business (or maybe not), when another shoves them up against a wall. To kiss them, fuck them, or fight them. What happens next is up to you.
1. Tag with your character's name, fandom, and preferences in the subject
2. Tag out to others, don't be shy
3. Profit
heavenonearth: (.021)

castiel / supernatural

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-10-11 08:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[ m/m and m/f both welcome, castmate pref unless we work out prior cr beforehand! happy to push or be pushed. ]
guzzles: (Jedi Mind Trick)

[personal profile] guzzles 2015-10-12 12:06 am (UTC)(link)
[ It wasn't planned. Really. It just sort of happened. They'd been sitting there in dead silence, researching, Sam with his head deep in the internets, and Castiel with his head deep in a book. On opposite sides of the table, minding their own business - except researching pretty much the same thing - and then Castiel had said something off topic, mind clearly engaged into a state of distraction by one of the words he'd read in the dusty old tome in front of him.

Sam had blinked hard, shaking his head, and shot the angel a look across the table, but he'd already been intrigued by the question, and now here they were--or rather, here he was, with Castiel pinned against the wall in front of him.

Okay, so it was sort of exhilarating, but that was the problem. It was hard to really remember what he was trying to teach here. He was so far out of his depth, crushing the smaller - but if he chose to be, much more powerful - man against the unforgiving wall behind him. Trapped, helpless. Well. Okay, maybe illustrating his point would take more than this.

Sam dug the heel of his palm into Castiel's shoulder with some force, and leaned down closer to him, catching his eye.

Do you feel anything yet?
heavenonearth: (.015)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-10-12 12:52 am (UTC)(link)
[ sam is strong. solid. sometimes it's easy to forget that. he's big, well built, but he's tall, all of that muscle is laid out over a long frame. where dean is built like a pit bull, sam is an orangutan, all lengthy, powerful limbs and long attractive bone structure; it isn't until he's up close and pinning him back hard to the stone wall that he really thinks about it. how strong sam is. this could work.

that castiel is an angel and could smite him with a single touch is irrelevant, really. sam is a marvel all his own, a different stripe from his brother. ]


[ being an angel is all well and good sometimes, when you need to destroy demons or handle powerful artifacts or heal your allies from the brink of death. but there are downsides, endless downsides. castiel remembers what it was like to be human. to feel things so keenly, so spectacularly that every sensation was like a work of art all its own, a miracle of synapse and electrical impulses so finely tuned that no creature alive could hope to replicate it. the hand of god at work, his signature and devotion laid out in the central nervous system of man.

he was not so kind, to his firstborn. angels are machines, well crafted and powerful and effective, but lacking the same finesse, the same attention to detail. no artist hits a masterpiece on his first attempt. castiel had his grab at humanity, had known how it felt to be one of them; it had been exquisite. and it's gone now. castiel is all power and machine works and wings and light again, but it all feels numb in comparison. it takes so much work to feel anything worthwhile. ]

Not yet. Try harder.
guzzles: (Fiercely Unhappy)

[personal profile] guzzles 2015-10-12 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
[ Try harder. Easy for Cas to say, but much harder for Sam to achieve. Making him feel something? It was like trying to coax an oyster to open and reveal its pearl, some act of meticulous science supported by pure force that Sam hadn't exactly had practice with. He was trying though, mostly for Castiel's sake but also for his own, because...because helping him was actually sort of exciting. He wanted to give him some of that feeling back, some of the humanity he was clearly craving.

He could feel Castiel's eyes on him, like he was appraising every inch of strength he had. He felt like part of a math equation, being adjusted to try to make the answer right, but he liked experimenting, and he liked being this close to Cas. Sort of. God, he would never tell a soul.

So he tried harder, like he was asked to, dropped down a little further so that he could better apply his strength, and took tight hold of both sides of Cas' coat, forcing him up, lifting him up the wall, pinning him again with his feet up off the ground. He pressed into the space too, his wrists pressed against Castiel's collarbones. It took more than that, crushing his lower body against Castiel's so that he was holding him up with more than his arms--that took the pressure off them, let him hold the position better, when he bent his elbows and leant in. His eyes stayed on the angel's, and his voice was rougher from the effort.

And how about now?
heavenonearth: (i suggest we imbibe copious)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-10-12 01:35 am (UTC)(link)
[ it's enough, at least.

pain, castiel has found, is the hardest to achieve. angels - very many of them, at least, and certainly castiel - were built to be warriors, protectors, and a high pain tolerance is a necessity. why build a intricate sensory network into a drone? something you planned to throw at your enemy? pain is a deterrent, and can be a weakness, so it takes far more force for castiel to feel it than anything else. warmth and cold, not so difficult. pleasure is a middle-ground. but all of them still take far more effort for him to recognize, and fall shorter than they would for any human being. ]


[ there's pressure on his lungs enough to make his breath rush, and where sam's hard wrists dig hard into his collarbone he is starting to feel it, like little needles being driven into his skin, two points of radiating ache. everywhere else there is just pressure, against his torso and his hips, where sam is crushing his body close. castiel's eyes are focused and intent when he lifts them to sam's face, watching him closely. ]

I can feel it, somewhat. [ lifting his arms, he grasps sam's wrists as indication. ] Here.
guzzles: (Shake In Some Sense)

[personal profile] guzzles 2015-10-12 12:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Feedback was feedback, and while Castiel wasn't making any noises of discomfort, and his expression didn't change in the slightest, his breath was at least starting to pick up--he could feel the rush of air under his hands. Then there's the grip of Castiel's hands around his wrists, unwavering, but still resonating a certain kind of tension even if it doesn't quite make it to his voice. ]

Okay. Okay, I got this.

[ He was confident he could make this work, give Castiel some hint of the sensation he was craving. It felt imperative, like he was actually able to give something back to the angel after everything that Castiel had done for them. Sure, it wasn't something he particularly wanted to explain to Dean if he walked in and saw them like this, but he'd gone for a drive, and might not be back yet for hours. "A drive" after all, often meant "A drink" and "A woman", and depending on the quantity and quality of both, it could be morning before Dean strolled back in, expecting research to have been accomplished without him. But that was okay. Sam worked better alone anyway, and moreover he really didn't want to be interrupted here.

He shifted his grip, losing an inch of the height he'd forced Castiel up to as his hand twisted around and grabbed the wrist of the one wrapped around it. He forced it up, driving it firmly into the wall just above Castiel's head.

Wrap your other arm around my neck. And bear with me, okay?

[ Because the next thing he was going to do was a little more spur of the moment, tugging the front of Castiel's shirt free so that he could push his free hand up into the space between them. Curling his fingers in just under Cas' right nipple, he scraped down with enough force that - were he human - the welt left behind would be bloodied in places. He had to feel that, right? ]
heavenonearth: ([end] .19)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-10-12 05:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[ there it is.

castiel is immediately tensing, his expression pulling into a grimace still too mild for a human reaction, but reactive for an angel. sam's fingernails tear against his numbed skin like hot knives leaving fire in their trail, and his skin jumps beneath them, muscle tightening hard, and castiel's inhale is sharp and quick.

it might occur to him that this exchange is.. really very weird, were he anyone but an angel, anyone but castiel really, who is weird even among the weird. anyone who might interrupt (heaven forbid, dean) them now would certainly get themselves an eyeful of something, but that worry is so far from castiel's mind that he may as well not be thinking it at all. it makes sense, for anyone who knows him, anyone who knows an angel, and sam is doing him a great favor in experimenting with this; it's entirely logical. and sam is one of the very, very few people that castiel would trust this sort of thing to, to ask hurt me, and know that he will be not only capable, but careful. ]

That's --

[ his breath rushes again, and he tips his head back against the stone wall to close his eyes and really feel it, take it in, the heat and the pain and the sting. he's been hurt before, they all have, but it's one thing to experience pain when your adrenaline is high and your focus is sharp, when you're fighting for your life, or your friend's lives, or the sake of the world. to experience it in a.. recreational way is a horse or a different color, to push himself and learn this body's limits. it's educational, but when it comes down to it castiel is really only satisfying his own simple curiosity. ]

Good. Better.
guzzles: (Default)

[personal profile] guzzles 2015-10-12 06:44 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Maybe that's what it is for Castiel, and maybe that's how it had started out for Sam, too. He was curious, and he wanted to be part of this experiment, wanted to be trusted enough for Castiel to have faith in him to do things like this for him. Except... Except even if it had started out that way, it didn't stay innocent. His hand was too close to Castiel's skin to miss the way his chest jumped under it, his inhale sharp and startled, and Sam felt his own heart rush to catch up.

Castiel was so warm, so close. He smelt, oddly, like ozone, and feather pillows in an expensive hotel - which was weird - but Sam had never had reason to sniff him before, and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask about it now. There was, admittedly, a level of mixed feeling about the request even now. Castiel trusted him to hurt him, but to be gentle about it, careful, keep the stimulation to something just this side of friendly, while at the same time scratching and maiming. It admittedly unsettled Sam, when he realized his own physiological reaction to Castiel exhaling under his hand, laying his head back like that, lips parted. And why not? It wasn't like he'd ever been rough with someone intentionally for the purpose of his own arousal. That just wasn't a part of him, or it hadn't ever been. He treasured romance, gentleness, loving passion, not this. Hurting his friends and enjoying it felt like it came from a diseased part of him, something twisted that Lucifer had left behind, maybe.

And yet Castiel's pain was excruciatingly beautiful, and close up like this, Sam couldn't help but be fascinated by it. There was no hiding from it, either. As tall as he was, there was no pressing his face down into the corner of Castiel's neck to hide. He watched all of it, every miniscule twitch. His own breathing was becoming a little staggered, but he didn't back down, moving his hand back up over the wound he'd created and pressing his fingers hard against the scratches. His hand crisscrossed the wound at ninety degrees, climbing higher, and then Sam grit his teeth as his hand climbed the last inch to Castiel's nipple. He dug his nails in there, fiercely, all but pressing Castiel into the wall through the contact.

Better? [ As though he had to ask. But he said the word through his teeth. ]
heavenonearth: (.011)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-10-12 07:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[ it has taken castiel a great deal of time to come to understand this body, and all of its bizarre and new and unexpected reactions. every part of it is sensitive and reactive, nerve endings crowding the skin, and even to castiel's limited range it's almost too much stimulus to process. angels are beings of energy and light and thought, his true essence is not something tangible, not something that feels, at least not in the way that a human does. sight and sound were the easiest to adapt to, for they are already familiar. but taste, scent, touch - these are all of them foreign. years he has inhabited this vessel and he still finds himself surprised by a foreign smell, or the texture of something he'd never touched; velvet had taken some time to appreciate, and sand.

he had learned through sam and dean. certain things have become imprinted into his memory. the scent and feel of leather and steel and linen and wood, this is what he associates with them, this is what he has grown accustomed to. and skin against skin - all the things sam is giving him now - they are all still foreign, still uncommon enough to be exciting and new. but he knows their hands from times they have grasped him, struck him, clapped him on the shoulder. he knows their palms and fingers, their grip and their calluses.

moreover, castiel has learned only very little about prolonged contact, about arousal and response and the friction of two bodies. his time as a human had been.. educational, he'd learned in leaps and bounds, so much so that it feels almost strange to be so close to sam now, it feels so different than it had with april, when this skin had for the first time felt comfortable, and his own. but he is watching sam, too, sam whose heart tends to write itself over his features like words on a page, easy to read. he can see the focus of sam's eyes, hear and feel his breath hitching, the flit of excitement and stirring in his expression. when his fingernails dig deep again castiel gasps, his shoulderblades flexing hard against the wall; the pain is sharp, delightful, like little arcs of lightning lancing down his spine straight into his belly. his arm over sam's broad shoulders tenses, and castiel's fingers curl into the thick fabric of sam's shirt, holding fast. ]

Are you enjoying this, Sam?

[ there's no judgment in his voice, no malice, only bare curiosity and his blue eyes fixed and lidded, staring into sam's, unwavering. ]
guzzles: (Express)

[personal profile] guzzles 2015-10-12 08:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[ There really was no hiding from how Castiel's reaction affected him. When he gasps, and arches, all muscle and power contained in the vessel underneath him, when he clenches tight at the back of Sam's shirt, like he simply can't help himself, it drives right down into the core of him, settles in a knot in his belly. Terrified and yet overwhelmingly into this all at once, he's genuinely aroused before he can help himself, staring down into the angel's remarkable eyes, with nowhere else to go.

Castiel saw right through him in a second, and Sam felt a blush climbing his neck, his face twisting into a grimace as he was caught. He wasn't told off, though, and somehow that was worse. Castiel pronounced it, but he didn't exactly understand it, and suddenly he was struck with the desire - the need - to somehow make Castiel understand what he meant by it, what it was to be so overcome by a feeling that control was an impossibility.

What answer could he give, that his body wasn't already signaling?
] Yes.

[ His own eyes flashed darker. Not black - God, never again - but his pupils blew, and it was the only warning there was before he dropped down, letting his support structure fall apart for a moment only to sink his teeth into Castiel's throat. It was hard, rough and bruising. Sam had bitten hard enough to draw blood gushing before, but he held back just this side shy of drawing blood, knowing he had to be rough just to get through Castiel's hard outer shell.

At the same time, he caught his nipple again, being firm, being rough, but this time it didn't conceal its intention behind inflicting pain.

And man, if Dean walked in right now... Don't let Dean walk in. At least he could hide his face now.
heavenonearth: ([end] .20)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-10-12 09:17 pm (UTC)(link)
[ we're not going to talk about dean walking in right now. we're not even going to think about that. because the implications aren't something that even castiel wants to consider, and he's terrible when it comes to understanding interpersonal relationships. dean is too close to the both of them, this - this is between he and sam.

and right now, that's just fine, because his world has narrowed to the sharp bite of sam's teeth, the way they feel sinking into the tender flesh of his throat. it's new and different and exquisite, and castiel answers with a low, appreciative sigh; he feels his body tightening, his blood warming.

it would be easy enough to shut it out, to shut all of this down now that it's clearly stepped over a boundary they hadn't discussed, and castiel could block out the feeling easily. but he doesn't. and he finds he doesn't care to. sam wants this, and castiel is enjoying the feeling, and that's just fine. so instead of repulsing it, castiel instead opens himself up to it, closes his eyes and focuses his efforts on feeling it all - the bite of sam's fingernails, the sting of his teeth, and the warm, solid press of his lanky, powerful body.

it's a beautiful thing, to be human. the pain can be so profound, and the pleasure with it; not for the first time castiel feels a little jilted. this is not something that angels do. this is not something they were built to do. even enjoying sam in this vessel is just a rough facsimile of the intimacy that a human would experience in his place, a taste of something sweet and just out of reach. castiel, more than any other angel, plays at being human, strives to touch what it is to be them like a vine reaching for the sun, leaning into its warmth. this is the closest that he can get, a glimpse of the wonder that is two creatures together simply for the sake of enjoying one another, and still it feels like he's reaching through a sticky, clinging veil.

but it's what he has to work with, and he will work with it, it just means trying a little harder than others might need to. so castiel allows himself to melt into it, to ride it, and he tips his head aside to offer more of his throat, he arches his back into sam's touch, eager and responsive. his wrist flexes in sam's grip while the hand at sam's shoulder slips into his hair instead, catching in it easily, pressing down encouragingly, and when castiel speaks his voice is rough as sand. ]

Don't stop, then.
guzzles: (Grim Reaper)

[personal profile] guzzles 2015-10-12 10:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Don't stop. As if he could have received any other message, given the way Castiel seemed to transform underneath him. It was as though he'd been holding onto his reactions before, muting them down to something of a more acceptable social level. With a single word, Castiel became prismatic, as much responsive as he returned each gesture--the hand in his hair was especially overwhelming. Sam was permitted to experience it all, every one of Castiel's arching, twisting movements, the ragged sound of his breathing, his voice like a heel grinding into crushed glass, torn ragged with emotion.

Was it emotion? Did it matter? Castiel wanted this, he'd asked for it, and now every inch of Castiel, words and all, was begging him not to stop.

He tightened his grip again, pulled Castiel's wrist toward him briefly, only to slam it right back into place once more, an inch above his head. He wasn't ready, yet, to roughly change position, but it was only a matter of time. The amount of Castiel's throat that he could reach, even augmented by the eager tilt of his head, was suddenly everything but sufficient. His skin was the perfect canvas for bright bruises, and Sam's method had already changed, from all teeth to teeth and suction, lashing his tongue against trapped skin that tasted like the moon on a crisp winter night. If he left marks, they wouldn't last long - they'd be gone, certainly, by the time Dean got back - but surely they'd stay there long enough. Long enough to be appreciated.

Distantly he was aware that he should be more...concerned. More bothered with how easily he was falling into this, more troubled that Castiel was - at the very least wearing - a man, that as well as fighting together they were also friends. But this wasn't going to change anything. Sam knew as sharply as he had when he'd agreed to hurt him in the first place that this didn't change anything. In half an hour or so, they'd go back to their research, and Sam would throw lingering looks, and Cas would pretend that nothing had ever happened; would be able to compartmentalize it better than Sam ever could, even with his own prodigious skill at putting his mistakes behind him.

He licked the abused skin, panting a little hard against the bruise while he caught his breath. His hand, meanwhile, fell free, but only so that he could pull open the buttons of Cas' shirt. The top two were already loose, and he managed to get three more done before he lost patience and pulled, sending buttons skittering that he'd only have to find and sew back on later. But it left him more room to work with, wrapping his arm around Castiel's back, under his shirt and coat, and finally dropping the hand above his head. He kissed Castiel's collarbone, dropped his hand into his dark hair, and proceeded to dig his nails in.

It was half desperate pretense, and half his own grinding emotion when he spoke again:
] How about now?
heavenonearth: (.021)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-10-13 12:15 am (UTC)(link)
[ poor sam will surely be the one who suffers after this, thinking and rethinking, overanalyzing. because he's right, castiel will compartmentalize it with relative ease. there are scattered pros to his complete ignorance of human social mores, one of which is the ability to gloss over mixed.. roles. sam is his friend, yes, his friend and his ally and his family, and now he is this - a lover? briefly, possibly, but it seems to slot in just fine with all the rest, as far as he is concerned. a connection is a connection, and castiel doesn't have the faculties to differentiate between all of these masks that people like to wear, all of these titles and labels people give to their relationships. most angels walk through existence wearing only one mask, one face, one drive and personality. humans wear a hundred, one for every person they know, one for every moment of the day.

but castiel does not apply labels. you are close to someone, or you are not, and what you do with that closeness hardly matters. not really. why would this change their relationship? if nothing else, shouldn't it make it stronger? he's learned a lot about humans. these past years have taught him more about how they operate than thousands of years watching from heaven ever had, but his sensibilities, his boundaries, are blurred. he's not sure he'll ever be able to untangle it. call it celestial culture shock.

but it's also what makes him sincerely receptive to this, though castiel has always been eager to please the winchesters, there can be no mistaking that. ]

Good, Sam. It's good. [ he encourages, breathless, pressing his head back into the curl of sam's fingers, while his own tighten in response, grasping in sam's long hair, pulling gently at the roots to guide him. his throat stings where sam's mouth had been, a sweet radiating ache - his body feels warm, his skin too tight for his body, and he remembers this feeling, how good it is, how much he'd enjoyed it, how much he's still enjoying it, even through all the numbness. there's so much to feel, so much to experience. the texture of sam's hair alone is something he could take hours to analyze, let alone the pressure and heat of his body, the familiar scent of his skin, the sound of his voice roughened and hard.

castiel hums low in his throat, his free hand searching for leverage, bunching in the front and pulling, releasing, lowering to the loose hem where he can press beneath it to find sam's skin, smooth and burning hot. ]

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ghostlife: (910 - dd - predatory)

Did someone say demons versus angels?

[personal profile] ghostlife 2015-10-15 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ With two blood treatments to go, you'd think Sammy might've taken better precautions when tying Dean up in that room again. Shut the door this time, maybe. Locked it. But no, his genius little brother did the same exact thing: a pair of warded handcuffs, two foot of rope, a demon seal that doesn't do squat. It's a wonder Sam's lived as long as he has. Probably just because he had Dean to carry his ass. But all that's about to change.

First though, Dean's going after the real problem: the angel. Sammy'll be a cakewalk once good old Cas is out of the way. And then Dean can really have some fun.

After a quick errand trip, Dean circles back around to the dungeon, waits behind the door this time, knowing they won't expect it. And when Sam comes charging in, Dean knocks him out with a broken off piece of metal shelving cracked to the back of the head, hard enough to draw blood. He pushes a bookcase on top of him for assurance after that. Shouldn't kill him, but might break a few bones. That's how you keep someone where you want them. Sam could learn a thing or two from big brother Dean.

The angel's tougher, but Dean knows to expect him now, and that's why he came prepared. When Cas shows up a second later, Dean slams him back against the far wall, an angel blade pressed up against his throat between them with pressure just below Cas's ear, just enough to draw blood and make that little light sing. Over Dean's shoulder, Cas can probably still see poor Sam under that bookcase. Maybe alive, maybe bleeding out. That's the least of Cas's worries, though. ]

Hiya, Cas. Looks like you were wrong. It ain't over until I say it's over. And I'm not done with you yet.

[ Dean smiles. ]
heavenonearth: (.022)

you're so good to me

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-10-15 04:13 am (UTC)(link)
[ castiel is there the moment he hears the crash, his heart dropping into his belly with dread. they're so close, so close and he knows it, dean is there, beneath the surface, just within reach, but he's broken free again. ]


[ for a brief moment he's halted in place, processing what has happened, the smear of blood and sam's unconscious body pinned beneath a bookcase; fear lances through him like lightning. he surges forward, but that second's hesitation was too long, and he's hurled back hard, pinned, and a black-eyed monster wearing his best friend's face is bearing down on him, leering. the blade cuts, his grace recoiling, and castiel hisses through his teeth, one hand tight around dean's wrist, the other bunching in the fabric of his shirt. ]

Yes you are, Dean. This is over. Let me go.
ghostlife: (I've been looking at the sky)

Everyone loves Cas abuse. Poor Cas.

[personal profile] ghostlife 2015-10-15 04:43 am (UTC)(link)
[ Dean just laughs a dark, rolling chuckle as he looks to the side and away from Cas, like maybe he's dropping his guard, maybe that blade's about to fall away. And in the next moment it might seem like that's the case as the blade is dragged lightly, harmlessly down Cas's neck and collar...

But no. Because in the next moment, Dean slams the angel blade between Cas's ribs on the right side, in just the perfect spot to miss all the good stuff, to clip through bone on two sides and cause a whole lot of pain. Dean sighs through a smile. ]

Oh, I don't think so. See, I wanted you to save me. Forty years in Hell, Cas. And I waited, and I held out, because I knew, deep down I knew, that there was a way out. Forty years, Cas. But you couldn't just save me from Hell, could you? Oh no. There was a seal to break. We had an apocalypse to bring down. So you waited. Forty years of torture, you waited for me to break. And then you saved me. And I am so glad.

[ He pulls out the angel blade, and slams it back into Cas's left shoulder this time, leans into it hard until he's so close that all Cas'll be able to see are those familiar green eyes, knowing everything Dean knows, saying everything Dean must believe, way down deep where it's all one big black hole. ]

Because if it weren't for you, Cas. I wouldn't be here right now. So thanks, pal. I owe you one.
heavenonearth: (for the orgy?)

muffled self esteem plays in the background

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-10-15 05:00 am (UTC)(link)
[ it's quick and sudden and brutal, and castiel isn't ready for it, doesn't expect it, doesn't think that dean really has it in him to do this, demon or not. but he's wrong, and the angel blade punches clean through him, all white noise as his grace lurches and screams in his vessel and the pain is impossibly, excruciatingly terrible. it's one thing to damage his vessel, all this flesh and blood that's numbed and difficult to feel, but the blade cuts to his very being, pierces him deep where the angel runs beneath the flesh. there's no other pain like it.

and all the while dean is whispering poison into his ear, a venom made all the more effective by the truth behind it. because dean is not wrong. the angels could have saved him, but instead they waited, and they watched while the righteous man was tortured, biding their time until he was broken beneath it, before castiel at last dove into the pit beside his brethren and tore dean winchester from his torment. knowing what he knows now, being who he is now.. the shame of it burns him like acid in his lungs.

but he won't apologize. not because he is not sorry, but because this is not dean, and he won't give it the satisfaction. when the blade punches into his shoulder next castiel shouts, raw and ragged, and he knows now that he can't hold back. sam's life hangs in the balance. everything hangs in the balance. there's too much at risk. the hand bunched in dean's shirt forms a fist and punches hard, flinging dean away, into the shelving behind him.

there's no time to waste. castiel grasps the blade and with a rending cry wrenches it free of his shoulder, hot blood sticking his shirt to his skin, and he stumbles to the table, bloody blade in hand, and seizes the syringe. ]
ghostlife: (910 - dd - got the pissed)

[personal profile] ghostlife 2015-10-15 05:23 am (UTC)(link)
[ For all the monsters Dean has had to deal with in his too-long life, angels have always been the biggest pain in his ass. And today is no exception. He goes flying back into the shelving, and there's pain, but not much. Nothing that doesn't heal a few seconds after it hits. No, the real pain is in how long it takes him to get back to his feet. And by then, Cas is freed and with that damn poison in his hand.

Too bad for him, Dean's not in that chair. He's still free, and from where he stands, he's got leverage. He puts a boot on top of the shelving that's got Sam buried. ]

I said I wasn't finished with you, Cas. So I'm going to need that blade back.

[ He says, putting weight on the leg propped up on the shelving, enough to make the shelves rattle and Sam's unconscious body to go a little more slack. ]

Who you gonna put first this time? Yourself? Or my bro here? Because I can tell you who I would pick, if I were you. Sammy is going to die. I'm going to kill him. But you want to save Dean, your good friend Dean, don't you? Only you can do that, Cas. Not Sam. You're an angel, the only one with the strength to stop me, and what's he? Just another Winchester that you need to save.

So who's it gonna be, Cas? You or him? That blade or Sammy's ribs?

[ Either way, Dean wins. He puts more weight on the shelves until Sam's bones begin to crack, and Dean yells with a hand outstretched to Cas. ]

Come on!
heavenonearth: (.020)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-10-15 05:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ it's cruel, how often castiel is backed into corners like these, how often he must choose between heaven and earth, and now, between dean and sam, and he's hesitating. it twists his heart to know that under different circumstances he would choose dean. he would always choose dean. and while his relationship with sam has grown in leaps and bounds it's dean to whom he is connected, will always be connected to, as if a tether runs between them.

but this.. this is not dean. castiel had not believed that this method would work to begin with, had reminded sam again and again that it was bound to fail, that they might need to do the unthinkable and put dean down if push came to shove. and right now, push is most certainly coming to shove, and sam isn't awake to defend himself while his body is crushed.

still, castiel hesitates. he can't make this choice. it's impossible. how can he decide? but then dean's voice roars and he hears the crack of sam's bones and it cuts through him like a knife. instantly, without thought, castiel does the only thing he can think of - he hurls the angel blade, hard and fast and far, past dean and clattering into the hall behind him.

mark or no mark, that blade is the only thing currently in dean's possession that can kill him, knows that he must take the bait if he hopes to bring down an angel. so the moment dean's back is turned castiel lunges for the second syringe, shoves both into his sleeve and rushes to sam, bracing the bookcase in his hands and with a mighty heave that makes his wounds scream in agony, tosses it aside. he has seconds to work with here, mere seconds, so castiel does not waste time in dropping to his knees to press his hands to sam's back, rousing his grace to mend sam's bones and wounds. it leaves him wide open, but he has no other choice, because he can't leave sam to die, and dean, the real dean, would never forgive him if he did. ]
ghostlife: (910 - dd - looking up - subtle smile)

[personal profile] ghostlife 2015-10-15 06:08 am (UTC)(link)
[ When the blade goes sailing past him, Dean turns to watch it go by, slow and unamused. He rolls his eyes as he walks to play fetch, scoops up the blade and flips it, familiar, in his hand. Cas has made the choice he'd expected. Good old, reliable Cas. Always there when Dean needs him.

Cas's back is wide open, but Dean steps over Sam's arm and right past him, deeper into the room. He walks over to the chair, and stands next to it, looking down. ]

You know, they call these angel blades. Because angels carry them, I guess. But they don't just kill angels, do they? [ He scratches his own neck with the tip of the blade. ] Kind of a misnomer, if you think about it. But that's angels for you. All a bunch of lying douches. Right, Cas?

[ His eyes dart from Cas to Sam and back. ]

Knock him out.

[ Because if he wanted Sam up and awake, Cas, he wouldn't've thrown those shelves on him. ]
heavenonearth: (.015)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-10-15 06:29 am (UTC)(link)
[ when he feels sam's back heave with a deep breath under his hands castiel exhales a sigh of relief that turns to a held breath when dean's boots approach and .. step over them, past them, into the demon circle. sam groans, and castiel slips a hand under his arm to support him as he sits forward, bleary and confused, but his eyes are fixed on dean, unmoving.

dean asks him to knock sam out, and castiel does nothing, says nothing, and sam blinks hard and tenses, trying to orient himself and get to his feet, but.. if they can do this without sam being harmed, it's for the best, and dean has the bloody blade near his own throat and castiel feels something prickle down his spine like a warning.

he gets to his feet, reaches to touch two fingers to sam's forehead and tries to ignore his protest, the flash of betrayal in his eyes before he falls unconscious, deeply asleep, lurching forward into castiel's arms. gently, he lays sam on the floor then stands straight again, taking a few slow steps toward dean, standing between them, his expression set, focused. he'll never get used to it - those black eyes in dean's face. it makes his stomach turn, makes his heart ache. ]

What are you getting at?
Edited 2015-10-15 06:32 (UTC)
ghostlife: (910 - dd - smile - hair)

[personal profile] ghostlife 2015-10-15 06:46 am (UTC)(link)
[ Luckily for Dean, he's long past the point of heartache, and watching Cas betray Sam, lay him down like it's nothing... Dean doesn't feel a goddamn thing. And that's awesome. He points towards Cas with a wag of the angel blade and a few slow steps to the side, circling the chair. ]

I like you, Cas. Sam... Man, you can't even imagine what it was like having to grow up next to that. But you? You and me, Cas. We've got an understanding. We've had our differences, our arguments. Beat the crap out of each other, just like this. But thick and thin, even when the whole damn world was out to get us, we always got along.

[ He kicks the chair forward in Cas's direction. ]

I'm not going to kill you. Not yet, anyway. Sit down and put the cuffs on. Unless you want to watch Dean here slit his own throat. 'Cause after all that human blood Sam stuck in me, I am really tempted.
Edited 2015-10-15 06:51 (UTC)
heavenonearth: ([end] .31)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-10-15 07:15 am (UTC)(link)
[ it's a long time before castiel moves, he stands and he stares like a statue rooted to the ground, weighing dean's words, thinking, while his heart hammers hard in his breast, cold panic unfurling in his belly. even for them, this is dangerous. castiel knows that if he can't win this that no one will come running, no one will intervene, and dean will be doomed to live this terrible life, and sam will be dead. the stakes are impossibly high.

of course it occurs to him that he could simply let it happen. let dean kill himself. he's probably bluffing, anyway, probably won't do it. but he might. and let god damn him himself, but castiel is too weak to let it happen, too weak to let dean die before his eyes when he knows he might have a chance to stop it. to save him. to pull him out again same as he wrenched him from the pit, and he's a fool, a fool, but if sam and dean have taught him anything, it's that he has to try, come hell or high water.

so he moves at last, closing the distance between them, and when he enters he pulls the doors shut and presses his right palm to the seam and seals it with searing heat, melting the metal to itself. if he falls, it certainly won't hold dean forever, but maybe, just maybe, it'll give sam the time to wake up and escape, or make his stand, whatever it is he chooses to do. he feels the weight of the syringes in his sleeve, allows it to fill him with what confidence it can, steps forward, and does as instructed. without a word he sits, takes the cold metal cuffs and closes them around his wrists. ]
ghostlife: (I've been looking at the sky)

[personal profile] ghostlife 2015-10-15 07:52 am (UTC)(link)
[ He was totally bluffing. And now he grins, because Cas is right where he wants him, and with that door sealed, nobody else can interfere. ]

Atta boy.

[ Dean doesn't wait, doesn't hesitate. He slams the angel blade down into Cas's left shoulder, right next to his collar bone, perpendicular to the wound that's already there. The light sings for him and man, that's got to hurt. Dean rips the blade out again and circles around, crouching in front of Cas, looking at the blood drip from the blade down to his hand. ]

That whole raised me from Hell thing... You did that on orders. Didn't know who I was, didn't give a damn. Just doing what you were told. But you sure did hold it over my head after that, didn't you Cas? When I was on my way to saying "yes" to Michael, what was it you were always saying?

[ Dean looks up, like he's trying to remember, before leveling Cas a flat stare again. ]

Oh yeah. "I rebelled for you." And I believed you, too. And that guilt, it just ate away at me.

[ Dean leans in a little closer, lowers his voice. ]

You know, it still eats at him?

[ He leans back again and stands up, voice raising to normal levels as he points loosely down at Cas with the blade again. ]

But you and me... We know the truth. You rebelled for you. Me? I'm just your excuse.

[ He takes a few steps back, arms spread wide and raises his voice even louder. ]

Sure you don't want to kill me Cas? Put an end to all this suffering? Last chance.
heavenonearth: (.032)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-10-15 08:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ dean is fast and ruthless, and the blade pierces him hard and so suddenly that he isn't able to prepare for it, brace for it, and castiel has no idea if he's screaming because all he can hear is the white noise of his grace twisting in agony, bucking inside of him like an insect pinned to the mat. the blade slides out, clean and smooth, and castiel lurches, breathing hard, groaning, panting.

cold fear twists in his gut, saying that this is it, this is really it, there is nothing left of dean behind those familiar green eyes, no stirring him, he's lost, he's gone, and castiel is going to die here. but no, no, he will try, he will fight to the very end. the cuffs are loosely linked, he only has to wait for the right moment to sink the syringe into dean's neck, when he's close enough to reach. while dean paces his fingers are working, sliding the first syringe from his sleeve and into his palm, hidden behind his hand. ]


[ he says, weakly, and coughs, then shakes his head and inhales deep, and rattling. ]

I pulled you from the pit, for me. To fulfill my orders. To be the one to rescue the righteous man.

[ he's dizzy with pain, his grace twisting inside of him, injured and desperate, but castiel pushes it down, holds it tight. ]

But I rebelled.. for you.. because you deserved - [ a wet cough ] - deserved better than what destiny had laid out for you. [ his eyes fix on dean's, fearless, intense. ] Because you taught me to fight for what I believed in. I will.. never give up on you, Dean. You fought your destiny, and you will fight.. this. You will come back to us.

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