Besturz

Cas starts posting asking for advice for stuff and people are just so happy to help and support him, talking to him on his level like it’s the most natural thing

I think Cas would be at home here

my ratiorine fwb comic is done! i started this about a year ago and really wanted to challenge myself to illustrate a longer scene with these two, one where you could really see how deeply they care about each other but also their difficulties in putting those feelings into words.

Coming soon for the @destielaureversebb: “Some Kind of Kiss” 

Author: Susu_st Artist: @besturz

Rating: Explicit Archive warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Length: 50,000 words Tags:  Vampire Castiel, Vampire Dean, Hellsing-Inspired AU, Case Fic, There Was Only One Coffin Relationships: Dean/Castiel

Summary:  

In an alternate 20th century, Sam and Dean stand as heirs to an organisation previously headed by their late father. Ghosts, witches, werewolves—it’s all routine until a new crop of vampire start making themselves known. Weaker than their true-blooded cousins; nobody knows where they’re coming from, only that their numbers are exploding and suddenly, attacks stop seeming so random.

When the Winchester mansion is targeted, Dean is fatally wounded. Invoked by Sam’s prayer, an ancient power ends Dean’s mortal life to save his soul.

Adjusting to vampirism wouldn’t be so complicated. You know, if it weren’t for the bond.

Excerpt: 

“Take my hand,” Sam says, steadying him by the elbow. His palm is hot where it meets Dean’s skin. “We can’t stay here. Do you remember—”

“Yeah,” Dean replies, his bearings returning in a slow drip-feed. “The attack.”

“It isn’t over. You have to move, I’m sorry but we can’t stay here.”

He takes a moment on his knees, waiting for the pain he’d felt before he fell unconscious to return. When Sam takes his weight against his shoulder, he stands, needles poking the skin of his legs as he regains use. As that prickling numbness fades away, nothing takes its place. He feels fine. Better than that, even.

“I’m good,” Dean says, and it shouldn’t be true so soon after, after what must’ve been, must’ve happened—but he finds it is.

Following Sam’s lead, they leave the library with caution. They don’t know what’s still lurking in these halls. Realistically, if there are more intruders, they should converge with a unit before conducting a full sweep. As Dean and his brother near the staircase, it becomes clear they aren’t alone.

The hunched form is something Dean has seen countless times before. What must be a vampire is kneeling on the floor, the quiet susurration as blood is sucked filtering through in the air. But it’s not quite a regular bite, because though the house is dark Dean can see everything. Can see the split in the corpse’s neck, head only clinging to its body by a flap of skin, the gaping hinge still spraying blood.

Dean puts a hand on Sam’s chest, stopping his movements. A silent communication. His brother has the weapon, not Dean. He needs to take the target out.

But Sam shakes his head, breaking eye contact as soon as it’s established. “Not that one.”