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for @horrornaturalevent week 6 swap prompt: terror
dean pov. set post s11.
cw: beheading
The first thing Dean notices is the cobblestone.
No one makes roads like this anymore. The mismatching stones somehow woven into a brutal tapestry. The endlessĀ clip-cloppingĀ of horsesā hooves, like somethingās stuck in a broken engine no one will fix. The shit-human or animal-does it really matter?-stuck to the bottom of his shoes.
Heās either time traveling or dreaming that heās in Europe. Both options suck equally.
Dean looks up and sees a wooden podium in front of him: low wooden bars on the side; nothing in the front; a staircase in the back for people to walk up. Thereās a short, wooden stump in the center of the platform. The front half of the stump slopes downwards in a u-shape, not leaving much of the top surface to stand on and preach-or shout the morning news-or balance chickens on-whatever they did back in these days.
The jingle of metal breastplates and soldiersā synchronized footsteps make him squint at the distance. A small entourage is approaching the podium. Among the half-circle of copper-colored helmets thereās someone dressed in a white, collarless blouse. His hands are bound in front of him and his chin bowed to his chest.
It takes until the prisoner is mounting the steps that Dean finally names it in his head.Ā This is an executionerās block.
Someone is wearing a leather mask that only shows his bearded mouth and standing left corner, axe in hand. The executioner.Ā The man with bound hands kneels without protest and presses his cheek to the bloodied stump.
Dean darts forward, heels skidding as he throws up both hands to stop the axe before it falls.
The man kneeling looks up at him. No. Cas looks up at him, eyes wide with the kind of surprise you might have when someone hasnāt rsvpāed to a party but youāre sure they might drop by anyways because they always show up, even if theyāre late, and then thereās the sound of their car in the driveway and you tell your friends see I told you heād be here what did I say I was right all along.
Casā eyes shine with a wet terror. āDean.ā
The axe falls through his fingers. Casā head is separated from his neck like two orange slices being pulled apart.
And then Dean is back in the Impala.
āFucked up dream, huh,ā he says aloud. Trying to affirm his status; trying to cement his words in the roughness under his tongue. He checks the rear-view mirror-no masked executioner in sight-and then pulls out his phone to study the map again. Sam was supposed to meet him here an hour ago. The family of ghouls theyāre hunting seems to be hiding out in the woods nearby. There's no reply from Sam to Dean's last messages.
āSlowpoke,ā Dean mutters and turns the key in the engine. He lets the radio play at full blast while he drives. After about a mile or two he sees something in the middle of the road and swerves sharply to avoid hitting it. It looks like some kidsā soccer ball, or a dead rabbit. Nothing worth stopping for.
He gets out of the car anyways.
Itās a head. A human head.
Dean puts one hand on the gun in the back of his belt, his quickening heartbeat anticipating an attack. Like heās some forest bunny about to get pulled in by a hunterās bait. After he scans the empty highway around him he looks back at the head by his feet. Itās half rotted; ants and flies are swarming thick around the neck, so many that the base looks black and alive. The eyes are swollen and oozing and blue. As if the sky is hemorrhaging.
Cas. The word burns along the side of his gums. He canāt work his jaw to open it and speak.
Someone grabs the scruff his neck and heās yanked backwards too fast to whip out his weapon and defend himself.
Heās in a halfway, long and white. Murder-white. The kind of color that is begging to be splattered in blood. The kind of clean that you know is only that way because of all the guts that had to wiped off. He whirls around at the sound of incoming footsteps and feels around his chest and waistband for any blade or gun or half-decent throwing star, but thereās nothing. In fact his clothes are even wrong. Heās wearing something Sam would call a tunic, and Dean has no idea what a tunic is except for the fact heās undoubtedly wearing one right now.
āIām dreaming,ā he says out loud. āFuck.ā
āYes and no.ā Cas is standing at his right side. Head on his neck and everything.
āYou-I-whatās going on here?ā Dean narrows his eyes. āAre you even real?ā
āYes and no.ā Cas isnāt looking at him. His eyes are fixed straight ahead, like he can see through the corridor wall. His Adamās apple bobs faintly. Then he closes his eyes and slowly puts his arms behind his back.
āCas, whatās happening?ā Dean rounds on him, reaching out to touch his shoulder just as the soldiers appear again. They bind Casā wrists with rope and pull him down the hall, oblivious to Deanās attempts to get through.
āCas! Cas! Donāt let them do this to you!ā Dean glances around for a way to get ahead of them and sees a side hall on his left. He sprints down it and out the exit and ends up on the cobblestone road again. Heās in front of the executionerās platform once more, but this time heās not alone. Thereās a crowd gathered all around, pressed as tight as sweaty clothes to his skin.
āFor his treachery to Heaven and its commands,ā someone reads from a scroll. āFor his disregard for life, both human and celestial. For releasing the abomination that our Father locked away.ā
The crowd murmurs their assent after each line. Heās standing at a trial. No, itās not a trial because Cas isnāt getting a chance to defend himself. Heās just standing there between the grip of the soldiers, head lowered in anticipation.
Alternate s9. Cas is captured by angels as soon as he falls. He's different by the time Dean and Sam and Charlie find him.
CW: food, vomiting, body horror
Itās almost six weeks after that hospital phone call that Dean finally sees Cas again. Heās been mentally preparing himself that Cas isnāt going to look the same: heās human now (as if the body will be physically warped from the enormity of that transition), but heās also been held captive by angels. Dean has tried hard to stop himself from picturing what they might be doing to him. Heās kept the predominant vision in his mind of a Cas who is alive.
And he isnāt wrong.
Cas stares up at him and Sam and Charlie (whoās breathing heavily, shakily, right by his ear). His blue eyes are a washed out hue, not even brightened by the contrast of the dull iron bars heās peering through. The ex-angel is crouched in what looks like a huge kennel for one of those short-haired, bad-tempered type dogs. A Rottweiler or Great Dane. Thereās a plastic water bottle with a small tube tied with wire to the top of the cage. Something a hamster or parrot would sip from. Patches of beige trench coat and white shirt fabric are stuck so tightly with the grime all over Casā body that it looks like his clothes have melted into his skin.
Charlie is trying her best not to cry when she slips an arm around Casā waist to steady him as he crawls out of the cage. Dean figures he probably hasnāt walked in weeks; heās trying to stand as firm and proud as he can, but his ankles are protesting the reality of the situation.
All three of them end up supporting him in a strange sideways gait back to the car, like some fucked-up three-legged race.
Sam grabs a water bottle and a towel and Dean skims his hands over Casā body, looking for open wounds or infected lesions. Heās so severely underweight that Dean is afraid to press on his protruding bones and hurt him. Dean exhales slightly when he finds no noticeable injuries (bruises litter his body like weeds in a garden, but heās not bleeding anywhere). They can skip a stop at the hospital and take him straight back to the Bunker. Back home.
Charlie sits in the backseat and unwraps a piece of cold French toast from the diner that morning and rips off small pieces to give Cas. Something Sam said about not letting him eat or drink too much at first or itāll be a shock to his system. Cas figures each morsel of bread between his dirty fingertips before slowly pushing it between his teeth.
The angels who did this are nowhere to be seen. Dean temporarily puts out the fire in his chest thatās burning for justice. Theyāll find the bastards when Cas is strong enough to eviscerate them with his own two hands.
+
Charlie makes chicken soup from scratch, with a whole real chicken. Dean is almost fascinated to watch her pull the rubbery skin off the bulb-shaped legs and crack the ribcage open with a knife. Sam adds cilantro, diced potatoes, carrots and celery to the stock. Dean gazes at the magical process for a few moments longer before going to see if Cas is finished his shower.
Cas is sitting on the edge of the bed in the infirmary, wearing just his boxers, elbows on his knees.
Dean tries hard not to react visibly to the sight of his emaciated body. Casā ribs stick out from under his skin like metal wires. His toes look more like a Halloween costume fixture than actual toes. Thereās no amount of loose fabric from oversized t shirts and sweat pants that can hide the way his collarbone juts out or the sunken hollows around his eyes.
He feels so small when Dean helps him pull a sweater over his head. Like Dean could move too brusquely and his entire skeleton would collapse. āIām sorry,ā Dean murmurs over the swish of knitted strands.
Cas pulls the sweater sleeves over his wrists and then leans into Dean. His elbows burrow into Deanās belly like the hilt of a sword ramming into his gut. (Itās hard to breathe.) Dean hugs him closer anyways.
They all sit and watch him try the chicken soup. Like itās some potion that will cure all, the way storybook grandmothers always promised it would.
Cas grimaces and holds his nose while slurping the first spoonful. Charlie laughs softly and tells him its just smoke from the heat. It wonāt hurt him. He doesnāt look very appeased but he lowers his hand for the next sip. His expression relaxes slightly and he says he likes the smell of the cilantro. Sam smiles hopefully.
Then Casā lips suddenly curl upwards and his eyes wide in horror. Before Dean can ask why heās shoving back the chair and spitting something out on the table before stumbling backwards. His knees are knocking into each other hard, hands fumbling frantically against the wall heās sliding down.
The three of them jump up at the same time. Charlie grabs the bowl, exclaiming how thereās nothing wrong with it. Sam goes to Casā side to help steady him and Dean stares at the offending thing sitting in a pool of thick saliva next to the spoon.
Itās just a chicken bone.
+
Cas keeps biting his lower lip. Dean doesnāt know if itās a new habit or not (he never got see Cas as human before the torture). He tells Cas to stop whenever he sees it, but it clearly happens when heās not around, and frequently, because Casā lip is starting to look like a discolored strip of raw meat and dark blood stains.
Charlie buys different flavors of lip balm online and has Cas try each one to find the kind he likes.
āPut it on whenever you want to bite it,ā she says, buying several extra tubes of Burtās Bees so he can put one in each pocket of his clothes.
She keeps buying things for him. She tells Dean she doesnāt know what itās like to be human for the first time, but itās gotta require lots of things you never needed before. Dean doesnāt think miniature hand sanitizers, waterproof phone covers, or a matching pillowcase and duvet set is going to help Cas forget that he was tortured for weeks by his own siblings, but he lets her do it anyways.
Sam reads books on dieting and How to Help Your Ex-Angel With a Very Picky Appetite Gain Weight.
Foods Cas refuses to eat include chicken wings, hamburgers, hamburgers, hot dogs, and hamburgers.
Dean tries not to be frustrated with Cas. Itās only been a few weeks. A few weeks of watching at Casā haunted figure wobbling around the Bunker and knowing thereās nothing he can do to fix it. He canāt even cook for him, which is normally his winning move in mother-henning the infirm back to life.
Foods Cas likes to eat includes cereal, milk, and bread. Chocolate bars and French fries were soundly rejected.
Dean wonders if part of the angelās torture was to give Cas the best fast food ever so heād develop an aversion to it for the rest of his life.
Itās almost six weeks after that hospital phone call that Dean finally sees Cas again. Heās been mentally preparing himself that Cas isnāt going to look the same: heās human now (as if the body will be physically warped from the enormity of that transition), but heās also been held captive by angels. Dean has tried hard to stop himself from picturing what they might be doing to him. Heās kept the predominant vision in his mind of a Cas who is alive.
And he isnāt wrong.
Cas stares up at him and Sam and Charlie (whoās breathing heavily, shakily, right by his ear). His blue eyes are a washed out hue, not even brightened by the contrast of the dull iron bars heās peering through. The ex-angel is crouched in what looks like a huge kennel for one of those short-haired, bad-tempered type dogs. A Rottweiler or Great Dane. Thereās a plastic water bottle with a small tube tied with wire to the top of the cage. Something a hamster or parrot would sip from. Patches of beige trench coat and white shirt fabric are stuck so tightly with the grime all over Casā body that it looks like his clothes have melted into his skin.
Dean almost topples the cage over in his frantic attempt to get Cas out of there.
Charlie is trying her best not to cry when she slips an arm around Casā waist to steady him as he crawls out. Dean figures he probably hasnāt walked in weeks; heās trying to stand as firm and proud as he can, but his ankles are protesting the reality of the situation.
All three of them end up supporting him in a strange sideways gait back to the car, like some fucked-up three-legged race.
Sam grabs a water bottle and a towel and Dean skims his hands over Casā body, looking for open wounds or infected lesions. Heās so severely underweight that Dean is afraid to press on his protruding bones and hurt him. Dean exhales slightly when he finds no noticeable injuries (bruises litter his body like weeds in a garden, but heās not bleeding anywhere). They can skip a stop at the hospital and take him straight back to the Bunker. Back home.
Charlie sits in the backseat and unwraps a piece of cold French toast from the diner that morning and rips off small pieces to give Cas. Something Sam said about not letting him eat or drink too much at first or itāll be a shock to his system. Cas figures each morsel of bread between his dirty fingertips before slowly pushing it between his teeth.
The angels who did this are nowhere to be seen. Dean temporarily puts out the fire in his chest thatās burning for justice. Theyāll find the bastards when Cas is strong enough to eviscerate them with his own two hands.
+
Charlie makes chicken soup from scratch, with a whole real chicken. Dean is almost fascinated to watch her pull the rubbery skin off the bulb-shaped legs and crack the ribcage open with a knife. Sam adds cilantro, diced potatoes, carrots and celery to the stock. Dean gazes at the magical process for a few moments longer before going to see if Cas is finished his shower.
Cas is sitting on the edge of the bed in the infirmary, wearing just his boxers, elbows on his knees.
Dean tries hard not to react visibly to the sight of his emaciated body. Casā ribs stick out from under his skin like metal wires. His toes look more like a Halloween costume fixture than actual toes. Thereās no amount of loose fabric from oversized t shirts and sweat pants that can hide the way his collarbone juts out or the sunken hollows around his eyes.
He feels so small when Dean helps him pull a sweater over his head. Like Dean could move too brusquely and his entire skeleton would collapse. āIām sorry,ā Dean murmurs over the swish of knitted strands.
Cas pulls the sweater sleeves over his wrists and then leans into Dean. His elbows burrow into Deanās belly like the hilt of a sword ramming into his gut. (Itās hard to breathe.) Dean hugs him closer anyways.
They all sit and watch him try the chicken soup. Like itās some potion that will cure all, the way storybook grandmothers always promised it would.
Cas grimaces and holds his nose while slurping the first spoonful. Charlie laughs softly and tells him its just smoke from the heat. It wonāt hurt him. He doesnāt look very appeased but he lowers his hand for the next sip. His expression relaxes slightly and he says he likes the smell of the cilantro. Sam smiles hopefully.
Then Casā lips suddenly curl upwards and his eyes wide in horror. Before Dean can ask why heās shoving back the chair and spitting something out on the table before stumbling backwards. His knees are knocking into each other hard, hands fumbling frantically against the wall heās sliding down.
The three of them jump up at the same time. Charlie grabs the bowl, exclaiming how thereās nothing wrong with it. Sam goes to Casā side to help steady him and Dean stares at the offending thing sitting in a pool of thick saliva next to the spoon.
Itās just a chicken bone.
+
Cas keeps biting his lower lip. Dean doesnāt know if itās a new habit or not (he never got to see human Cas before the weeks of torture). He tells Cas to stop whenever he sees it, but it clearly happens when heās not around, and frequently, because Casā lip is starting to look like a discolored strip of raw meat and dark blood stains.
Charlie buys different flavors of lip balm online and has Cas try each one to find the kind he likes.
āPut it on whenever you feel like biting your lips,ā she says, buying several extra tubes of Burtās Bees so he can put one in each pocket of his clothes.
She keeps buying things for him. She tells Dean she doesnāt know what itās like to be human for the first time, but itās gotta require lots of things you never needed before. Dean doesnāt think miniature hand sanitizers, waterproof phone covers, or a matching pillowcase and duvet set is going to help Cas forget that he was tortured for weeks by his own siblings, but he lets her do it anyways.
Sam reads books on dieting and How to Help Your Ex-Angel With a Very Picky Appetite Gain Weight.
Foods Cas refuses to eat include chicken wings, hamburgers, hamburgers, hot dogs, and hamburgers.
Dean tries not to be frustrated with Cas. Itās only been a few weeks. A few weeks of watching at Casā haunted figure wobbling around the Bunker and knowing thereās nothing he can do to fix it. He canāt even cook for him, which is normally his winning move in mother-henning the infirm back to life.
Foods Cas likes to eat includes cereal, milk, and bread. Chocolate bars and French fries were soundly rejected.
Dean wonders if part of the angelās torture was to give Cas the best fast food ever so heād develop an aversion to it for the rest of his life.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Quality
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Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
jess š i just need you to know that in my notes when i click on these tags im taken to an ophelia painting lol also i love reading your tags ššš
that's bizarre, WHY would it redirect you to an ophelia painting instead of the proper post? what is tumblr trying to say?! 'tis in my memory lock'd, and you yourself shall keep the key of it!
lol thank you, i love that you do! i've been trying to tamp my rage down, but sometimes i simply must go feral in the tags š they deserved better than that shoddy treatment messing with their arcs and diluting their individually unique characterization, i will be avenging them in battle šš”ļø