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fanfic-scribbles · 7 years

Text

28. 4

Words: 1569

Warnings: Violence, especially towards Reader. Double-usage of the prompt for obvious and maybe less obvious connotations (but nothing permanent). Angsty.

You're hanging on by a thread. Or a chain, rather. Both of your feet are broken and if you could just dangle that would be great, but one of your arms is also broken, so you're gripping higher up on the chain with the hand of your good (for now) arm and trying not to shout every time your body is jostled.

“Would you like to count them off?”

Your eyes are shut so you don’t know what he means by ‘them’. He likes his knives but he also likes breaking bones one by one. It doesn’t matter. “Fuck you,” you mumble.

He digs his fingers into your scalp and yanks your head back. Your eyes flit open for a second, but shut again. The left one is painfully swollen and the right one…well, there’s just no real good reason for it to be open.

“That’s not how you beg for mercy,” Alex growls in your ear.

You chuckle weakly. Seriously? “Cute.”

He drags his nails down from where they’re dug in, letting blood soak out into your hair once again. “You are–” He stops and goes silent. You hadn’t heard anything, but admittedly, you aren’t paying much attention to anything other than breathing at this point. It’s a little surprising though when he steps away from you.

“What, need to grab a deer to snack on?” you ask, trying to pay more attention. You hope– fuck, you almost start praying again– that no normal person has found you, because you’re in no shape to help anyone right now.

“Wait here,” Alex says and slips out.

“Har har.” You open your eyes and look around, deflating with a sigh. There’s nothing to keep your interest, which is a shame because you’re trying so hard not to fall asleep. Losing consciousness doesn’t seem like much of a good thing right now, nice as a rest might be. You don’t yet want it to be permanent, no matter how bad things are. Cas would help you if he could, you just know it. A fight like that can’t be the breaking point after all the things you’ve had to endure over the years, and the longer you stay alive here, the better the chance of Sam or Dean–

“Hey killer,” comes a whisper and you jolt, wondering if you really have fallen asleep.

Except you bite back a groan at the deep, throbbing pain in your arm when you accidentally give yourself too much slack. A larger body comes up behind you but he feels different. “Dean?”

“Easy; I’m gonna get you out of here,” Dean says softly and puts a reassuring hand on your hip.

“How did you get in here?” you ask as he tests the chains. Because you’re ridiculously nice and he is saving you, you don’t bite his head off for making it hurt.

“Little broken crawl space in the back corner. Rain loosened up the dirt enough for me to get in.” Dean faces you and looks over your body. You know there’s a joke in there that you can make but fuck it. You’d ride in the Impala over a dirt jump course right now if home was at the end of it. “Before I drag you out of that I’m gonna make sure Cas can get here.”

Dean grabs a knife, and starts digging through the wards on the walls. He gets through two before you realize what he just said. “Cas?” you ask so desperately that Dean stops what he’s doing to come back and shush you.

He looks over his shoulder at the door but no one comes, so he relaxes. “Yeah, Cas. He’s out of his mind looking for you– he was actually just hanging around the bunker, waiting for you to come home when I saw the call.”

“He doesn’t hate me,” you breathe and despite how strong you’ve stayed until now, tears stream down your face.

“No. Guy’s so fucking into you I don’t even think that’s possi–”

The door slams open and Dean whirls around, holding out the knife. You can’t see around Dean from this angle but you see when he tries to switch the knife for the gun, and that’s when Alex attacks. The gun goes skittering off somewhere because Winchester Luck almost always aims true, and Dean gets thrown into a wall so hard that he has to brace against it for a moment. They fight– Alex beating the crap out of Dean– and that happens a few more times. Dean hits a wall and has to take a breath. Dean’s normally more…on, than that. You don’t get what’s happening until you catch his sleight of hand, cutting a small but definite line through one of the circular-shaped wards on the walls. He’s still trying to make a way for Cas, and Alex, thank every deity ever, hasn’t noticed yet.

Alex isn’t content to slam Dean into just walls though. He lifts the hunter and throws him at you, which is something you only barely get to dread when the smaller but still immensely sizeable Winchester collides right with your broken and bloody body. You scream at the pain that comes from everywhere but especially from the ribs you’re sure were just cracked before but must be fully broken now.

Alex rounds on Dean, who now lies prone on the floor, but everything comes to a stop when the very air shifts and you all freeze as it fills with…something. It’s as foreboding as that one time you were hunting a demon in Oklahoma, right before a big tornado blew through. But this is something more…localized.

You gasp when you realize what that is and fuck, it hurts, but this is a good hurt. So good you laugh despite the pain. Dean and Alex stare at you like you’re crazy, but if Cas really is that upset, you can’t wait for this next bit. You look at Dean. “You broke my ribs, Winchester.”

Dean slowly grins, showing blood-covered teeth and probably not minding a bit. He nods at Alex. “Way to send up the heavenly signal flare.”

You shut your eyes and pray, As nice as a dramatic entrance would be, I’m a little delicate right now. Please stow all earthquakes for another occasion.

“I can be subtle.”

Cas is there, a sight if ever you’ve seen him, and Sam is aiming his gun right at Alex. Alex whirls, rage masking everything and he yells in rage, turning full ‘wolf’ before your eyes. “The wards! How did you–”

Castiel isn’t in a talkative mood. He grabs the werewolf by the shirt collar and throws him down like he’s a doll. He might as well be. Castiel reins in just enough of his grace to hit the human way and he focuses on the bastard’s face, both drowning out and causing yells of agony as he punches him. He hits, and hits, and hits. The werewolf scrabbles and claws at his vessel but for all the beast knows of spells and wards, he doesn’t know how to hurt an angel.

“Cas, Cas, Cas!”

Castiel glares at Dean but restrains himself when the hunter grabs his wrists. The werewolf is still, but his head remains intact, which won’t do. “Focus; they’re in bad shape,” Dean hisses and Castiel snaps his attention to you, hanging weakly. His fists itch but he acknowledges Dean with a nod and stands. He takes a step towards you.

The creature takes his chance and slips away. Castiel is so focused on you and doesn’t know to be concerned until a shot rings out and Dean screams your name. For a moment Castiel wonders if time has frozen. But then the blood seeps out of the hole in your abdomen and your eyes widen before they fall shut, and you go slack in the chains.

Castiel can only barely hear Sam firing off shots as they match the pace of his run. One, two, three, four. Castiel holds your body and reaches up, breaking the chains with one hand and lowering you to the floor. He puts his fingers to your forehead as the conduit for his grace. It covers and fills you, seeking every injury but there are so many and he is running out of time. There is a reaper nearby, waiting. “Stay away,” the angel growls.

“Cas–”

“Not you, Dean.”

It takes Dean a moment but when he gets it he grits out, “Damn it, damn it!” like you are already lost, and storms over to unload his gun into the corpse. Castiel ignores him. Your soul is weak but trying so very hard to stay here.

“It is time to let go,” the reaper whispers. Castiel retorts by covering you with his wings. It is paltry protection at best, but it makes him feel better, seeing you under the shade of them as he races to heal you. Bones fix back together, infections starting to set are reversed, lacerations mend as though they never were, the bullet is removed from existence, and blood and dirt are no match for the purifying light of pure grace. All of it happens quickly, but as he looks over you he doesn’t know if he was too late. He doesn’t know if you were strong enough to remain. He counts the seconds.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

You inhale.

#cas x reader #castiel x reader #cas x you #castiel x you #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #october challenge #4

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