This time, a rewrite from the original Binder! This is from chapter 9, set just after Cas suddenly has his own body and based on the older Venturiantale lore of Sally and Casket having known each other from prior attacks. Whispy is Sally's roommate here and Cas was invited to their dorm out of the blue.
TW for blood I suppose, though that's just about everywhere in this series lol
‘It’ll be good for you,’ he said.
In Cas’ opinion, John just wanted some time alone with Ghost. That loser probably knew the demon would be stuck in the middle of a meaningless argument over the superior between pancakes and waffles. This is exactly why he didn’t want to come to college with them. Being in a mortal body of his very own for the first time in a decade, Cas had expected more out of life. Maybe he’d try a new food that Ghost -and therefore the demon stuck to him- never ate, have the experience of playing video games, or be able to go on a jog without being tailed by John’s paranoid ass. Anything but sitting in Sally Accachalla’s dorm while she and her prissy wolf roommate bicker about breakfast foods. Cas doesn’t even get why he was invited! Last he checked, Sally didn’t exactly like him, and he’d never met Whispy prior to walking into her dorm. With both being the chattiest gossip girls he’s ever met, Cas really doesn’t think his edgy ass fits in among the cutesy pillows and show posters. Maybe it was pity, or maybe John bribed them into it.
Cas doesn’t blame him. He wouldn’t want someone like himself around Ghost either.
“How ‘bout this,” Sally says. Her voice drags the demon from his thoughts with its grating high pitch as her feline ears flick backwards. “Whispy, you go buy some pancake mix, and I’ll make some waffle batter here with Cas. Then, he’ll judge which tastes best! It’s been too long since we’ve chatted, anyways.”
Squinting at her, Cas feels annoyance bubbling up in his chest; what the hell is she doing? He absolutely refuses to allow her to drag him into their stupid debate. Before he can voice his opposition, however, Whispy shoots up from her seat, a determined glint in her eyes. Fuck.
“Bet!” She barks. “It’ll be a bit, though. That okay?”
Sally waves a paw flippantly and a stretched grin splits her face. The fur on the back of Cas’ neck begins to prickle. He doesn’t like her when she gets like this. Even when it happens with Ghost and John around, she just looks at Cas and it feels so wrong.
“No worries! Go ahead, we’ll keep ourselves busy.” Sally says with saccharine sweetness.
It’s fine, she just wants to bake waffles, boring shit. Whispy will be back. She throws us a farewell as she bustles out the door. Cas feels Sally’s burning gaze as his fur stands on end.
Just waffles, they’re gonna bake waffles.
“Yeah?” His voice cracks.
“We’ve known each other a while, yeah? So of course, you remember that time you dumped ‘Lare on her birthday?”
He doesn’t, actually. He’s done a lot of bad things that all blur together the harder he tries to think about it. Dumped? Like, a girlfriend? He can’t remember most of his past partners. Demons aren’t exactly built with mortal life in mind, let alone memories spanning several years. As far as he knows the relationships all ended pretty quickly until Ghost and John came around.
“Who?” Cas says. It slips out of his mouth before he can stop himself.
Just baking. Just baking. Sally drums her claws.
“How ‘bout somethin’ easier. What about when we fought? When you possessed Ghost and broke my arm?” She says. Venom drips from every word.
He can’t remember. Why can’t he remember—
“Probably not.” As though chatting about the weather, she eyes the chipped paint of her nails whilst speaking. “I’m not too happy ‘bout that, or your new body.”
Sally languidly stands from her seat. Her ears flick backward and her tail curls behind her in one smooth motion.
“Pretending to be a real person. Don’t be stupid! I’ve been waiting for a chance to shred you without Ghost stuck as collateral for years. So,” she preens with malicious joy. “Time’s up!”
In a flash, she strikes out at the chair legs beneath Cas, tossing him backwards as he instinctually lurches away. Like the flip of a switch, the demon moves, mind diving into the familiar headspace of battle. The girl responds with a spine-chilling giggle as she evades Cas’ swipe. He cackles in turn as the first blood is shed with a graze on her muzzle. He will not let himself lose this fight. She manages to pin him for a moment, claws tearing at the skin of his shoulders, as Cas snaps serrated teeth up at her. In a tangle of fur and claws, they tumble into a wild scrap. They fight dirty, no honor in each strike. But he needs to win this time.
In a single strike Cas is suddenly in agony. Everything blurs and no amount of blinking resolves it, though the stickiness running over one eye gives him an idea of the problem. He stumbles back and paws for the source of the wetness: blood. It drains from mangled flaps of skin around Cas’ ear that scream when touched. Jesus Christ, the crazy cat just tore his ear to shreds! Blood rushes in what remains of his ears as his chest heaves. Through the haze, he vaguely hears Sally’s sick cackling as he wipes the blood from his eye. It smears across Cas’ snout. The coppery scent makes him cringe.
God, is Cas glad he’s not using Ghost’s body for this anymore.
Any proper thought is swiftly thrown aside to make way for situational awareness and pure instinct as Cas has to drop, letting Sally sail past. Without him to stop her path, she slams into the flimsy dorm door, crashing through wood that splinters, to land heavily on the groaning metal of the second-floor platform. She yowls in alarm, shaking herself back and forth to dislodge the wood shards. Cas barely has time to breathe before he throws himself back into combat. He feels his body fatigue. Please, he has to win this time. He has something to lose now. Face-to-face against Sally again, their scratching and biting morphs into desperate jabs. The metal groans beneath them with every swing. The world spins, blood sticks to Cas’ fur, and he can’t get enough air in his lungs. Please, just let him win.
Then, he’s floating. Wind breezes past before Cas realizes that they’re both falling. The platform snaps inward as the metal splinters. Wood, metal, and flesh collapse the short distance to the ground in a horrid cacophony of sound. Cas falls with it. Noise, light, colors overwhelming every sense. He can’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe. He can hear a whistle with every stutter of his chest. Is there something in his throat? It feels wet. The ground is wet, too. His head is still spinning, and he doesn’t know where Sally is. He can’t hear her.
Where’s John? He’s supposed to be with Ghost right now, back at their dorm. Sally and Cas fought at her dorm; did they get caught in the crossfire? Cas’ paws twitch with a bolt of pain. He needs to get back to them. John would know what to do. He always does, even when Cas was stuck possessing Ghost. Ghost—he’s probably worrying about Cas, though he doesn’t know why he does. Ghost is too nice. Blades of grass scrape down Cas’ arm as it agonizingly stretches out. He’s so tired; his eyes drag closed, drag open.
The word is gravel from his throat that falls out as nothing more than a wheeze. Is he breathing? Muscles burn as Cas tries to drag himself with an arm that’s damp and blurry. It’s red. The grass is, too, as is the debris around him. Oh, it fell on him. Did it fall on Sally, too? Cas can’t hear her voice. He can’t hear anything. He should get help; John would know what to do.
Did Cas say that? It feels like it, with his lungs so empty. Is he breathing? ‘Cause he doesn’t think so. His arm drags forward again. Grass must really be made of blades ‘cause he feels the blood that seeps from his arm every time it moves through. The ground is shaking. Or maybe it’s just him.
Oh, when did Cas close his eyes? Sound is dull, draining to understand from the static in his head. Dragging his eyes open is harder than he expected. It must be some mortal thing, Cas doesn’t remember breathing being this hard during possession. In fact, he doesn’t think he even needed to breathe. Is he breathing? Cas is tired.
“Cas!” Ghost says in his ear.
He’s next to Cas, he can tell by the way his soft paws are so feather-light on his arm. Aw, shit, Ghost’s gonna get his fur bloody. No wonder John keeps Ghost away from him. But, he knows those shoes. John’s been wearing them since he had his growth spurt. He’s next to Cas, knees in the corner of his vision swiftly staining with red. They’re speaking, he thinks, but their voices are static in his ears. In fact, everything is getting fuzzy. He thinks he’s dying. Maybe it’s just unconsciousness but, god, Cas is just too tired to make himself care. He knows it’s selfish, but he can’t help but be glad he’s not alone. If Cas wakes up, he’ll make sure he remembers to tell them he’s sorry. For everything.
