Fic: The Stillness (6/?) Dean/Castiel

[aerilex]

Title: The Stillness, Chapter 6- The Mother
Author: Aerilex
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Friendship/Pre-slash
Rating: PG
Characters: Castiel, Eve, mentions of Dean
Word Count: ~1485
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Warnings: AU from 6x15, mentions of occurrences from 6x15 onward, wing!torture
Summary: Castiel and Eve talk.
A/N: Sorry this took so long… I wasn't sure how much I wanted Eve to reveal just yet, and I didn't want to rush. (Also, now that Dean and Balthazar have started it's been hell getting them to stop in my mind). Meh. Enjoy.



Chapter Five 

 

Reality is a series of broken fragments, sounds that aren’t quite sounds so much as ripples in the intricate web of energy that the angel can sense around him like the ether of Heaven. His world, for a time, is made up of shadows and dust, so when Castiel slowly becomes aware again, he finds it to be a surreal, confounding sensation that he can only describe as he would describe a heavy fog on the edges of the sea—hazy, thick, and slow. At first, the angel cannot fathom anything but the strange, echoing sounds of distant rain and a cacophony of soft whispers in the back of his mind. When his awareness spreads beyond this, he becomes aware of the strange, pinprick tingling of numbness overtaking his human vessel’s limbs.

 

One by one, feeling returns to pieces of himself that he would rather have left unaware. He can instinctually recognize the pain yet to come, and tries to distract himself. First, he rouses his awareness of himself—of Castiel, Angel of the Lord who governs the Fifth Day and protects travelers, who guides humans through great change and solitude, who had been chosen to raise the Righteous Man from Perdition. He is Castiel. He is friend to the Righteous Man, Dean and to the Boy with the Demon Blood, Sam. Cas.

 

Soon after he knows himself, he knows pain—sharp, burning agony ripping through the center of him and rising to the surface. It tears at his wings, chokes his Grace, and smolders in every corner of him. Castiel struggles against it, and tries very hard not to move which only seems to exacerbate the fury of the furnace of hellfire churning inside. The angel gasps, the sound a wet huff of heat from his lips, and he is almost so distracted by the inferno that burns so slowly against his veins and the light that makes up his true self that he nearly misses the soft chuckle against his ear.

 

"Hello again, angel. How are you feeling?"

 

Castiel tries to jerk away, but his vessel will not obey his command. Instead, he forces his eyes open despite the fact that they feel weighted with lead, and his gaze flicks toward the deceptively soft face near his own.

 

He tries to speak, but his tongue is thick and his throat dry so all that emerges is a soft rasp of air dragging over the syllables, "You are Eve."

 

The Mother of All smiles. "I see you haven’t forgotten anything since I summoned you. That is encouraging, little one."

 

Castiel calls upon his Grace, pulls at it until it responds with a flickering light which he then tries to expel toward the abomination before him. His Grace flails at his attempt, screams at him as though he has done it some grave injury and he no longer has the strength to hold his head up let alone fight with his essence. Castiel sags under the weight of his fruitless labors, and his chin sinks to his chest.

 

Eve’s soft, warm hand comes to cup his face and she tilts it up until she can meet his eyes again. Her eyes are full of wrath and scorn. "You’re too weak and far too young to hurt me, Castiel. Please remember that, and try not to overexert yourself. I need you, after all."

 

Voice thick like gravel but quiet like shadows, Castiel demands, "H-how could I possibly be of use to you?"

 

Eve smiles, and there is something in her expression that is feral like a wild animal. Castiel has seen this expression before, in the face of his own charge when Dean was still feral and drunk of Hell’s decadence. Dean will never remember—because Castiel will not allow him to—the way he had attacked the angel and had ripped at Castiel’s wings the moment Castiel declared his intent to raise Dean from the bowels of Perdition. Swallowing thickly over a lump that forms in his vessel’s throat, Castiel watches Eve with weary, uncalm eyes.

 

"You have no idea what you are, do you?" Eve asks in soft undertones, though her eyes remain wild and her intent can be nothing but malice.

 

"I am an angel," Castiel replies matter-of-factly.

 

"Oh, but you’re far more than that." Eve smiles, and her eyes are unfathomable as she strokes Castiel’s cheek. "You were brought back to life by the Father who abandoned you. You are Arisen. You are the only angel to ever know such a thing as resurrection. And because of this, your Father has damned you to an eternity alone." She hums thoughtfully and traces her fingertips across his features. "You deserve better than that. You deserve a Mother who will love you, not a Father who will betray you and leave you without the love a beloved child deserves." He fights weakly to turn his face away, and immediately tunes out the Mother’s voice. He knows better than to listen to an abomination that is no better than a demon. Eve’s words are of no import to him. They have little value and are simply the words of a temptress.

 

"I'm an angel," he repeats stubbornly. Quit while you’re ahead, Dean’s voice echoes in his mind. "You will not sway me."

 

Eve’s fingers stutter to stillness, then retreat from his skin. Ice overtakes her voice, chilling his blood and bones. "I’m sorry you feel that way, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t need your consent or your allegiance. I only need you."

 

Curiosity gets the better of Castiel, as it often does. He pointedly does not reflect on the number of times his curiosity about something (green eyes, humanity, choice, freedom) has landed him into trouble. "What do you intend to do with me?" he asks, not fearful but merely thoughtful.

 

Eve backs away, and Castiel notices for the first time the room that he is entrapped within. Sigils cover the walls, ancient magic that whispers of betrayal and traps. Flared out behind him, Castiel’s wings are stapled to the wall lying against a large trap bearing his Enochian name. That at least accounts for the flames that are writhing underneath his feathers and eating away at his flesh. A metal tray nearby holds more of the silver blades that had been used to pin him in place, and Eve saunters to it to snatch up a blade with a devilish gleam in her eyes.

 

She inspects the blade, tests its weight and balance before she contemplates Castiel and gives him a brilliant smile. "The Arisen shall inherit the treasures of Earth, and his wings shall be wings of the divine stained with the taint of the unhallowed," Eve recites, her gaze affixed to his as she comes nearer. And there, Castiel can see it again. The unholy fire that burns behind her human eyes, the creature that hides underneath her human skin. She is a terrible thing, lacking beauty and the presence of his Father. She is not of Hell, but she has none of Heaven in her. Eve reaches out to card the tip of the blade she holds through his feathers. Then she plunges it forth, pierces it through and through until it buries itself into the wall.

 

It is not unlike the wound he received in Heaven, though the pain is dulled by the other tortures he endures alongside it. He clenches his jaw against the pain, withholds the groan that rumbles in his chest like he’s hiding his Grace. He refuses to let her have the pleasure of seeing his agony. Eve watches him closely, catalogues the way his eyes narrow at her and the way his jaw locks. He knows that she will explore other ways to break him down, but it has become obvious that she needs him alive for something and pain is merely a state of being to be tolerated.

 

He breathes deeply, counts out each breath until the pain begins to recede, then looks up as Eve gives him another insincerely warm look. Purgatory rests within a world of lies, Castiel recalls a brother saying. Eve brushes her hand over his feathers, tugs on a fistful to ignite sharp stabs of pain. "And that which was once pure and is now tainted will become the weapon to destroy One or All," Eve concludes while she watches him. Castiel has no idea what she is quoting but he dislikes the implications. "You and I are going to accomplish much together, little one. So." Another tug and another flare of pain. Castiel closes his eyes. Lips brush against his ear as Eve leans in and whispers, "Just stay with me, angel. This may hurt a tad."

 

Stay with me, Cas.

 

Castiel breathes.

 

 

Chapter Seven