[ As Jaskier approaches, Castiel’s arms are sealed tight around Dean, his dearest friend, his heart, buried somewhere beneath the sick creature captaining his body.
This is the man he loves, who he abandoned heaven for, severed his connection to the divine, became hunted and hated by his brothers and sisters, and still doesn’t regret a second of it. He gave everything, all he’s known since the Earth first coalesced together from ambient gasses and base elements. Cas fought tooth and nail to drag him from hell without ever knowing him, and now Dean’s become some immovable, irreplaceable piece of whatever passes for a soul in him. His most harrowing nightmare is losing him.
There was no scenario Castiel wouldn’t have fought like a creature possessed to keep him from harm. He has no intention at all of hurting Jaskier, Sam or Ciri, but he does eye the bard warily when he approaches. Less aggressive, more hugging Dean tighter to his chest, pulling him in to shield him from the others. If his wings were visible to the human eye, they’d see them cocooned around the demon in his arms.
This close, it’s impossible to miss the fierce but unsteady panic in Castiel’s eyes, the way his fingers curl protectively, possessively, lovingly against his frame. There’s a thick, emotional tremor under the low gravel of his voice and sharp set of his jaw. ]
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This is the man he loves, who he abandoned heaven for, severed his connection to the divine, became hunted and hated by his brothers and sisters, and still doesn’t regret a second of it. He gave everything, all he’s known since the Earth first coalesced together from ambient gasses and base elements. Cas fought tooth and nail to drag him from hell without ever knowing him, and now Dean’s become some immovable, irreplaceable piece of whatever passes for a soul in him. His most harrowing nightmare is losing him.
There was no scenario Castiel wouldn’t have fought like a creature possessed to keep him from harm. He has no intention at all of hurting Jaskier, Sam or Ciri, but he does eye the bard warily when he approaches. Less aggressive, more hugging Dean tighter to his chest, pulling him in to shield him from the others. If his wings were visible to the human eye, they’d see them cocooned around the demon in his arms.
This close, it’s impossible to miss the fierce but unsteady panic in Castiel’s eyes, the way his fingers curl protectively, possessively, lovingly against his frame. There’s a thick, emotional tremor under the low gravel of his voice and sharp set of his jaw. ]
How? What do you plan to do to him?