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31_days2012-03-19 12:55 pm
metallikirk.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-03-19 12:55 pm
March 19th [Supernatural] A Terrifying Beauty
Title: A Terrifying Beauty
Day/Theme: March 19th: beauty can be terrifying
Series: Supernatural
Character/Pairing: Dean, Castiel, Sam
Rating: PG-13
Dean almost always forgot that Castiel was a terrifying prospect beneath that awkward exterior, too fooled by wide, innocent baby-blue eyes and a deceptively young face. It didn’t help that Castiel never understood any references and seemed inept in anything remotely resembling any form of social interactions. Castiel always seemed at a loss for words, when dealing with anyone other than Dean himself, or perhaps Sam or Bobby. His interactions with others also included putting his foot in his mouth and revealing too much, of being too honest and confusing the humans who weren’t in the loop. This had always been a source of constant amusement and acute embarrassment for Dean, yet still he put up with it. After all, Castiel had pulled him out of Hell; he might as well get some laughs out of something.
It was at times like these, however, when the Winchesters were surrounded by demons on all sides, strong bodies pressing in and threatening to devour and to maim and overbear, that Dean remembered just how powerful and ancient Castiel really was. The angel spun and fought far better than that lithe slender body looked capable of, slender hands ripping and gouging at flesh and smiting demons upon all sides. Blood flew, as his Grace burned brightly with every chop of his hands, every gouge of deceptively human fingers, every sweep of his angelic blade glittering in the meagre light of the warehouse.
Sam battled on, giving only the most cursory of glances Castiel’s way. Dean wasn’t surprised; after all, Castiel was his angel, not Sam’s, and so, by default, it fell to Dean to be impressed by Castiel’s prowess in a fight. It didn’t help that Dean was guilty of perpetually under-estimating the angel, a fault that Dean was all too willing to address in light of Castiel’s current fighting skills. Dean didn’t remember how good Castiel had been before the civil war in Heaven, yet he was certain that that constant angelic battle must have honed Castiel’s skills far beyond that which he used to possess.
Dean heard Sam’s sudden bark of his name, too distracted by the elegant sweep and curve of Castiel’s body to properly look after himself. A demon had gotten too close, had almost ran him through with the sharp point of a hastily thrown dagger. Dean spun out of the way, bulling into the demon with every pound of his body-weight, slamming the demon against the closest wall and ramming a knife into the other’s chest.
It wouldn’t last long, Dean knew; Sam had his demon killing knife while Dean had an ordinary run of the mill machete. Still, he knew it would deter the demon long enough until Castiel was able to despatch of him with his own skills.
“Cas,” Dean yelled over the mêlée. “Care to get your feathered ass over here, any time soon?”
“Dean,” Castiel said, as he arrived at Dean’s side.
He said nothing more, merely pressed one hand upon the demon’s head and smited him out of existence, forcing Dean to turn away from the power and might of an angry angel directly at his side.
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said, once he was able to speak again.
“Don't mention it,” Castiel replied, voice sounding impossibly harsh and hoarse in comparison with its normal gruff tones.
Dean nodded at him and watched as Castiel spun around, wings showing for the briefest of instants as he dove towards another fight, blade already held in one slender hand again. A gust of wind roared through the room as another demon was despatched, and it was only when the breeze died down that Dean realized that they were the only ones left standing. Every single last demon had been killed, dispatched by either Sam or himself, while the majority had fallen by the hand of Castiel. The angel was standing in a pile of death of his own making, chest barely heaving with his own exertions.
Dean was staring at Castiel, mouth open slightly, eyes pulled wide with his own wonder. He hadn’t realized until then just how beautiful an angel could be, all fluid grace and effortless, endless energy. That beauty, in and of itself, was terrifying, spilling out of the angel’s human vessel to wash and crackle against Dean’s skin in little pin-prick tingles. Sam caught Dean staring, yet didn’t comment upon the direction nor the meaning of his brother’s gaze. Instead, he smiled and turned away, as though he guessed at Dean’s train of thought, could feel the awe that literally oozed from Dean’s body. All Sam could think then, that it was about time that Dean realized just how powerful Castiel really was and he hoped that his brother would never take his angel for granted again.
Day/Theme: March 19th: beauty can be terrifying
Series: Supernatural
Character/Pairing: Dean, Castiel, Sam
Rating: PG-13
Dean almost always forgot that Castiel was a terrifying prospect beneath that awkward exterior, too fooled by wide, innocent baby-blue eyes and a deceptively young face. It didn’t help that Castiel never understood any references and seemed inept in anything remotely resembling any form of social interactions. Castiel always seemed at a loss for words, when dealing with anyone other than Dean himself, or perhaps Sam or Bobby. His interactions with others also included putting his foot in his mouth and revealing too much, of being too honest and confusing the humans who weren’t in the loop. This had always been a source of constant amusement and acute embarrassment for Dean, yet still he put up with it. After all, Castiel had pulled him out of Hell; he might as well get some laughs out of something.
It was at times like these, however, when the Winchesters were surrounded by demons on all sides, strong bodies pressing in and threatening to devour and to maim and overbear, that Dean remembered just how powerful and ancient Castiel really was. The angel spun and fought far better than that lithe slender body looked capable of, slender hands ripping and gouging at flesh and smiting demons upon all sides. Blood flew, as his Grace burned brightly with every chop of his hands, every gouge of deceptively human fingers, every sweep of his angelic blade glittering in the meagre light of the warehouse.
Sam battled on, giving only the most cursory of glances Castiel’s way. Dean wasn’t surprised; after all, Castiel was his angel, not Sam’s, and so, by default, it fell to Dean to be impressed by Castiel’s prowess in a fight. It didn’t help that Dean was guilty of perpetually under-estimating the angel, a fault that Dean was all too willing to address in light of Castiel’s current fighting skills. Dean didn’t remember how good Castiel had been before the civil war in Heaven, yet he was certain that that constant angelic battle must have honed Castiel’s skills far beyond that which he used to possess.
Dean heard Sam’s sudden bark of his name, too distracted by the elegant sweep and curve of Castiel’s body to properly look after himself. A demon had gotten too close, had almost ran him through with the sharp point of a hastily thrown dagger. Dean spun out of the way, bulling into the demon with every pound of his body-weight, slamming the demon against the closest wall and ramming a knife into the other’s chest.
It wouldn’t last long, Dean knew; Sam had his demon killing knife while Dean had an ordinary run of the mill machete. Still, he knew it would deter the demon long enough until Castiel was able to despatch of him with his own skills.
“Cas,” Dean yelled over the mêlée. “Care to get your feathered ass over here, any time soon?”
“Dean,” Castiel said, as he arrived at Dean’s side.
He said nothing more, merely pressed one hand upon the demon’s head and smited him out of existence, forcing Dean to turn away from the power and might of an angry angel directly at his side.
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said, once he was able to speak again.
“Don't mention it,” Castiel replied, voice sounding impossibly harsh and hoarse in comparison with its normal gruff tones.
Dean nodded at him and watched as Castiel spun around, wings showing for the briefest of instants as he dove towards another fight, blade already held in one slender hand again. A gust of wind roared through the room as another demon was despatched, and it was only when the breeze died down that Dean realized that they were the only ones left standing. Every single last demon had been killed, dispatched by either Sam or himself, while the majority had fallen by the hand of Castiel. The angel was standing in a pile of death of his own making, chest barely heaving with his own exertions.
Dean was staring at Castiel, mouth open slightly, eyes pulled wide with his own wonder. He hadn’t realized until then just how beautiful an angel could be, all fluid grace and effortless, endless energy. That beauty, in and of itself, was terrifying, spilling out of the angel’s human vessel to wash and crackle against Dean’s skin in little pin-prick tingles. Sam caught Dean staring, yet didn’t comment upon the direction nor the meaning of his brother’s gaze. Instead, he smiled and turned away, as though he guessed at Dean’s train of thought, could feel the awe that literally oozed from Dean’s body. All Sam could think then, that it was about time that Dean realized just how powerful Castiel really was and he hoped that his brother would never take his angel for granted again.