castiel jerks awake from a vivid, visceral dream of home. metatron, dean's demonic resurrection, the return of his grace. eerie as the memories of abraxas filter back in, and he's seeing the world in double vision as it all sifts out. the spell to remove the mark, amara, god. a disturbing period in which he rode sidecar to lucifer piloting his vessel. mary, and her scathing anger when he'd lost her sons.
billie. the stupid deal the brothers made that he broke.
i will not let you die i won't let you sacrifice yourselves you mean too much to me
he wakes with a fury in his bones and a fire in his chest as his returned grace courses a wave of celestial power through his ailing body, lighting it up from the inside. jo's words ring a cry for help through his mind, and the reaction is automatic, carried on from only seconds before. the fierce, guardian surge that possessed him to slay the reaper still hums under his skin when he finds the note left for him. after some hunting, a sorcerer somewhere in cadens gets a bag of probably too much cash tossed in their face with an aggressive, threatening demand for a teleportation spell.
geralt's ready to bring his blade down, dean's begging for an end, and jo's on the charge, sword ready, with sam not far behind. before she's able to reach him, an explosion of a spell and a brilliant, searing, white light erupts at geralt's side. ]
Cover your eyes.
[ castiel's voice over his shoulder, to jo, as a strong wind whips the dust and sand around them, and the light builds to pain unless shielded, a sharp, rising heat against the skin. it's a compressed supernova that's visible on the horizon for miles and miles. the scent of ozone sizzles through the air — it's more than light, it's the living energy of something massive leaking through it's pitiful container, it's charged, like a precursor to lightning.
a trench coated hand snatches at the back of geralt's armor and yanks him off dean like a kitten snapped up by the scruff of its neck. he's launched in the opposite direction, from whence he came, some ten yards or so. as the light begins to dim, they'll see castiel standing tall, and at his back, the silhouette of wings stretch wide and high, singed feathers damaged but half still clinging to bone. ]
no subject
I need you.
Dean does.
castiel jerks awake from a vivid, visceral dream of home. metatron, dean's demonic resurrection, the return of his grace. eerie as the memories of abraxas filter back in, and he's seeing the world in double vision as it all sifts out. the spell to remove the mark, amara, god. a disturbing period in which he rode sidecar to lucifer piloting his vessel. mary, and her scathing anger when he'd lost her sons.
billie. the stupid deal the brothers made that he broke.
i will not let you die
he wakes with a fury in his bones and a fire in his chest as his returned grace courses a wave of celestial power through his ailing body, lighting it up from the inside. jo's words ring a cry for help through his mind, and the reaction is automatic, carried on from only seconds before. the fierce, guardian surge that possessed him to slay the reaper still hums under his skin when he finds the note left for him. after some hunting, a sorcerer somewhere in cadens gets a bag of probably too much cash tossed in their face with an aggressive, threatening demand for a teleportation spell.i won't let you sacrifice yourselves
you mean too much to me
geralt's ready to bring his blade down, dean's begging for an end, and jo's on the charge, sword ready, with sam not far behind. before she's able to reach him, an explosion of a spell and a brilliant, searing, white light erupts at geralt's side. ]
Cover your eyes.
[ castiel's voice over his shoulder, to jo, as a strong wind whips the dust and sand around them, and the light builds to pain unless shielded, a sharp, rising heat against the skin. it's a compressed supernova that's visible on the horizon for miles and miles. the scent of ozone sizzles through the air — it's more than light, it's the living energy of something massive leaking through it's pitiful container, it's charged, like a precursor to lightning.
a trench coated hand snatches at the back of geralt's armor and yanks him off dean like a kitten snapped up by the scruff of its neck. he's launched in the opposite direction, from whence he came, some ten yards or so. as the light begins to dim, they'll see castiel standing tall, and at his back, the silhouette of wings stretch wide and high, singed feathers damaged but half still clinging to bone. ]
I don't want to hurt you, Geralt.
[ please stay down. ]