thursdays_angel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thursdays_angel) wrote2010-07-28 12:05 pm
thursdays_angel) wrote2010-07-28 12:05 pm
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The room is small and fairly plain. But it is comfortable, as humans judge such things. Castiel had asked Bar for “quiet” and this room somehow manages to exude it.
The view from the window is not terribly different from the view from his own. Which, Castiel reflects, it wouldn’t be. His own room is right next door. He has been standing at the window, appreciating the sight, for some time. It is good to see something other than Hell.
And he is still waiting for his charge to wake up.
Dean is laid out on the bed, dirt and smoke against clean muslin. He hasn’t stirred yet, but they have time here. And when he wakes, Castiel will explain what has passed, and then they can move forward in their respective missions.
They both have work to do.
The view from the window is not terribly different from the view from his own. Which, Castiel reflects, it wouldn’t be. His own room is right next door. He has been standing at the window, appreciating the sight, for some time. It is good to see something other than Hell.
And he is still waiting for his charge to wake up.
Dean is laid out on the bed, dirt and smoke against clean muslin. He hasn’t stirred yet, but they have time here. And when he wakes, Castiel will explain what has passed, and then they can move forward in their respective missions.
They both have work to do.
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"Don't you touch me!"
He uncurls faster than should be humanly possible, striking out with fists and elbows, untutored and blind.
He has to --
He has --
Dean doesn't even realize his teeth are bared.
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Castiel does not even know where to begin going about untangling it.
And he is worried that Dean is going to do damage to himself in this state.
So it is for his benefit rather than his own that Castiel reaches past the flailing fists and rests two fingers against Dean's forehead.
Willing him to sleep.
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Hell is waiting.
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This is uncharted territory, and Castiel is beginning to doubt his ability to find his way alone. He is not sure he has the capability to help Dean by himself.
In fact, it may be hubris to think that he could.
Castiel needs help. He knows he has help for the asking.
And Dean is not going to come around again for a while.
Castiel leaves the room, locking the door behind him.
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Does the little angel have any idea what he's locking in?
Because, yes, hell is waiting, behind the door, and around the corner, just inside the lids of Dean's eyes, and deep in his head.
Where a voice is singing.
Hush, little baby, don't say a word,
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird . . .