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[ Imagine feeling confusing feelings. Definitely couldn't be Dean.

It's a nice straightforward job. Find runes, scratch up some runes, shoot someone if they happen to pop up. (They don't pop up. Honestly disappointing on a lot of levels.)

But hey, it's definitely hard to miss a big painted rock that won't stop shooting FUCKING crossbolts. So Dean can scrape the hell outta that easy enough. No more runes, no more puncture wounds. One less thing to worry about.

For now. There's probably a dramatic cut back and forth between Dean messing up spray paint and Cas dealing with getting shot at, because this is Supernatural. You know.

Dean making his way back is somehow even less graceful than him taking off. Who is stealth, we don't know her. ]

Cas? [ ANSWER QUICKER PREEMPT HIS CALL!!! Too late. ] Cas, buddy, how we holding up?

[ It's fine just another day another person who matters looking like they should be bleeding to death. No biggie.

Dean can fix this up. Of course he can. They'll make it work. And hopefully there's not like angel poison on any of these stupid things. ] Target practice is not a good look on you, dude.

[ He grabs Cas's shoulders again, and it's up for debate whose sake he does it for. Whose reassurance. ]

[Well, there's a crossbolt in his cheek, so it's kind of hard to talk clearly- which is fine because Dean is right there and has no wounds of which Castiel can discern.]

'm fine, [Cas ekes out, and he is; bleeding, sure, but not in visible pain or distress, and with only a couple more bolts than before, many more littering the ground at his feet whole or in pieces.

Instead of beginning the arduous task of explaining what he needs, Cas reaches to take one of Dean's wrists and guides it over to the bolt sticking out if his chest. Yank 'em out, man. Though if Dean reaches for the one in his face, Cas will jerk his head away entirely on reflex, startling even himself.]

Fine. Yeah. Great. [ Oh well he's fine, problem all solved.

Okay, no, it does... help. To get the attempt at confirming that. And maybe it doesn't make the image easier to swallow, maybe it doesn't really kill the urgent worry, but it helps a little anyway. Makes a thing in Dean's ribcage feel more grounded.

Cas is an angel. 'course he's fine. Still standing, still answering the question. Damn if it's hard to tell whether he even feels pain or is just great at tolerating it, but at least he's not freaking out.

Blood's nothing new, neither is violence, and regrettably not even yanking arrows out of someone is all that new. It just sucks. No one else is here to do it, though, so Dean will, one bolt at a time. The relative quiet of the forest starts seeming all too apparent as Cas guides his hand to the first one, palm of his other hand pressing flat to brace as he pulls it loose.

You learn to separate yourself from this stuff early. Hand the physical reins over to some part of your brain that's like, a job-doer. More efficient about it. Let your hands work, don't think about anything. If it were Sam, he'd be coming up with some really stupid jokes or something, maybe picking up a dumbass petty argument from a lifetime ago to keep him distracted. Or he'd at least be trying to do it.

He's been using all his material up at Sam's bedside this week. Better to just get this done fast. Which goes a little bit to hell when Cas jerks his head back before Dean can get a handle on this last one. Dean feels-- some way about that, too. Undefinably bad. ]

Whoa whoa whoa, take it easy. [ When in doubt, treat this like dealing with a wounded animal. Dean gentles out, the teeniest bit. Tries to get his hand on the side of Cas's head at the temple, either to force some eye contact or to be in position to make him hold still for the next try.

Exactly which one of those it is depends on where Cas lands on the reasoning scale. Dean's keeping his options open. ] C'mon, Cas, last one. Last one, okay? Less than three seconds, you can bitch about it all you want.

[ However much that even is. ]

I'm fine, [Cas says again woodenly, eyes wide as he stares into Dean's. He didn't...mean to? It's just Dean, doing what Castiel asked of him, his palm pressed so solidly against his ear. Always steadfast and sure in a way Castiel hasn't felt since he met the man.

Why did he move away? His vessel is doing it again, the elevated heartbeat, the stone in its throat. Something is wrong. The bolt must come out. Castiel nods minutely against Dean's hand, keeping his own pointedly to himself, clutching at his coat sleeves to give his fingers something to grip. It's just Dean. Dean wouldn't hurt him- is he scared of being hurt?

Why?

It doesn't matter. What matters is Castiel control himself and hold perfectly still so Dean can extract the bolt, and so he can close that last wound. And so he does so, all movement ceased, the motionlessness of dust in the void of space, just waiting for a force to act upon it. Nearly lifeless.

But he keeps his eyes on Dean's.]

[ Less than three seconds, as promised. Done and done. Dean goes ahead and chucks the bolt on the ground as the garbage it is. And if his other hand stays put for just a second longer than necessary, like he's maybe trying to personally transfuse some being-okay into Cas through it, that's his business.

Maybe Cas's business. Since it's his head.

Because if there's one thing this world has more than any other, it's Intricate Rituals. Especially since something seems... off. Weirder than normal, even after those injuries close up. ]

You sure? [ You're SURE sure? Girl? ] If we're runnin' down the timer against some angel tranqs here, you gotta let me know.

[ It's easier to carry someone through the woods when you get a chance to stretch first, obviously. ]

[Castiel manages to find his voice some time after Dean's already tossed the bolt aside; the stone disappears and the heart in his chest slows when nothing horrific happens. Nothing horrific would have happened; Dean wouldn't have allowed it, as always.]

-no, [he answers, and bends down to pick up one of the bolts he'd managed to deflect. With all the bolts removed his wounds have since closed, even the blood and holes in his clothes vanished as if they were never there to begin with, his mobility returned to him entirely.

The shaft of the bolt holds the runes for the traveling spell, of course; move things from one point to another. The rock face wasn't firing the bolts so much as allowing the bolts to be moved from it; they'd have been fired from elsewhere. And there, on the metal tip of the bolt, is another tiny rune etched into its surface almost haphazardly.] This symbol, [Cas touches it with a finger before showing Dean,] is likely the same one being used to ground me. An immobilization enchantment, targeting angelic creatures. [It's very old magic, at least two thousand years old, but the druids of the 4th century BCE didn't have the kind of magic that could permanently disable or kill angels.

Or at least, he hopes so. Magic like that is powerful but so very, very rare, and he needs to be here to protect Dean, because now Castiel is sure of it. They are being hunted, not the other way around.]

It'll be dark soon. [Already the woods are taking on that damp, color-bleached effect of falling dusk, much too reminiscent of Purgatory to be comfortable. This much is familiar at least, and Castiel knows how to navigate this part.] We won't be able to travel well after dark. We should find water and shelter, and wait for morning to resume.

Edited 2025-11-09 19:23 (UTC)

[ The main sticking point Dean chooses to take away here is "targeting angelic creatures."

Just them all jacked up in the woods with limited gear, probably outnumbered, and Cas specifically being targeted. Every day it's something. Every day, week, month, year, decade and century, it's something.

These assholes had him going, he'll admit it. Not a bad plan or anything. Make it seem like one thing, lure 'em in looking for a witch fight. Might've been watching them for a while first.

As long as Sammy doesn't get it in his head to do something stupid, he'll be safe holed up where they left him. One less thing to be afraid for, for now.

Targeting angelic creatures. So matter-of-fact for a concept that rings in his ears for a minute. It's enough to make Dean's fingers start to go cold and numb, for part of him to seize up around a ragged hole in his heart that's barely stitched together as-is. Never totally healed. Most of them don't.

He's not walking out of this with a fresh one. He'd just as soon not walk out of it at all. (As if he's ever really had that option.) ]

Heard a creek about half a klick back that way, [ is all that he says to all that, jerking his head in whatever the hell direction it even is. No compass. Stupidest shit in the world. ] Shelter, we'll figure out when we get there. But they probably know we're gonna be lookin' for both, so stick close and stay sharp. No hero crap. 'til we hit sunrise, we're regular cowards.

[ This town's only big enough for one drama queen, okay. One sacrificer, if there has to be any for some godforsaken reason.

These druid actions will suffer dire and possibly homicidal consequences. The only one of them who knows how to even pretend to be normal about this team is laid up rn. That was their first mistake. ]

[Considering druids largely complete human sacrifices, Castiel is so much more concerned that these angelic-trapping runes are more to just cage the guard dog, so to speak, so the druid(s?) can do whatever they want with Dean. Which is not going to happen. He needs to stick around Dean to protect him, so he's got to make sure Dean doesn't leave him being by being a hero.

So he'll let Dean think they're after him instead. It's just...good strategy.]

You've never been a coward a day of your life, [Castiel says matter-of-factly, though he sniffs the air just faintly, searching for the mineral and water molecules that always sprinkle the air near running water before taking the lead in the direction Dean had gestured. Water for Dean, maybe also to clean up that wound if possible. Castiel could dig the bullet out, but without anything to close the wound later it's not a good idea. It would also likely be extraordinarily painful with no alcohol to dull it or tweezers to grasp it.

For fuck's sake. They're gonna be here overnight. If Sam is conscious and keeping track of time, he's going to be wild with worry.]

[ Sounds fake because Cas is definitely the one in real danger from these angel-hunting fuckos. Source: Dean decided that.

He doesn't know what to do with that response in the meantime, meaning it must still be a day that ends in 'y'. He never feels used to it. Because Cas never says this stuff like he's trying to make him feel better or nursing his bruised ego so he'll keep on trucking. He never says it like it's potential, like it's stuff that Dean Winchester Could Be. He just-

He always says it like it's true. A fact that can't be debated, even though he's always way off-base. ]

Yeah, man. Sounds like me. [ Dean can't help an amused scoff after the fact, but on the other hand: gift horses. This is a great time to feed into the unrealistic pedestal and hold it all down. ] But I figured, what the hell? We're already screwed six ways from Sunday on this little Blair Witch Project someone put together for us. Maybe tonight we try it on for size.

[ Let's be little bitches together. And survive this long enough to be later killed by Sam. ]

[The Blair witch...? Who is this creature...]

Well, [grunts, rocking a large boulder out of the way to allow Dean to pass up the shortcut on a slope, letting it rumble down the hillside after him,] druids might be similar to witches, but they tend to use ambient magic instead of the power available in demonic pacts. Druids would observe the beats of a bird's wing or the spray of blood from a man sacrificed to peer into the future.

[ Hi boulder. Bye boulder. Well worth the price of admission to see that happen.

Note to self: beef up movie nights a little more. Not that Cas's lack of reference-getting isn't one of his charm points. The man needs a real education is all. ]

Yeah, yeah, tree-huggers on ambient steroids. [ Weirdos, unsurprisingly. Dean never needs to think a nice thing about them because of this situation that they're in right now. ] You think they ever-- you know. [ Dumb bitch throat chopping gesture. ] Glimpse the future and all they see is someone cleaning up the sacrifice blood?

[ We are so normal. We are not even hypervigilant and worried, we're having fun with the horrors. ]

It isn't out of the realm of possibility. [Dean always asks such practical philosophical questions...it's nice.] Though one time, approximately 600 BC, a druid of some renown by the name of Lóegaire Lorc reported the bleeding of the dead foretold the collapse of their sacrificial grounds. He convinced his peers to move locations, and two days later the temples burned to cinders. They made him High King for saving their people, I believe.

[Pauses thoughtfully. Holds a branch aside for Dean to walk past.] He'd burnt the temples down himself, though. Hated that the floor was so sticky. [Lets go of branch, which smacks him. Considers smiting it]

[ Dumbass question: indulged. Followup storytime: received. Cas: smacked by the very branch he was holding.

If this quick bark of a laugh is the most Dean's laughed in probably a month, that's his business. All he knows is it's nice to get one in. ]

Dude was ahead of his time. [ Let him bravely and heroically pull that branch back from the other side for you, buddy. Your most loyal weirdo knight. ] I would've loved to hustle pool with that psycho.

[ Even though it's like, so easy to make a floor not sticky. Dean could do that shit in his sleep. One day he'll demonstrate aaaaall his domestic knowledge that he knows in his heart he'll never actually use again for the rest of his life. Like a peacock. For No Real Reason. ]

[Thank you but there is a misunderstanding here, because you see. HE is the loyal weirdo knight here, obviously

Like always though, even if Cas doesn't fully understand the circumstances, he feels a dangerous flare of pride at being the reason Dean laughs. They might be in a truly precarious situation, but Dean finds joy so rarely in his life. Even if it comes at Castiel's expense, he must be allowed to keep it.

Fuck that branch tho.

The creek comes into view shortly after, trickling and pooling over rocks into a slightly deeper section. Dean carries a flask so a container isn't a problem, but Castiel will touch a couple fingers to Dean's hand or flask first to purify the water of any microbes. The last thing they need in this situation is incontinence.]

Barometric pressure doesn't indicate rain tonight...we could stay here. [Cas looks around. Out in the open, but it's not like he sleeps. He can stand guard while Dean is out, though...it'll be chilly.]

[ This forest isn't big enough for TWO loyal weirdo knights... but somehow the stupidity persists.

It's nice, you know. In spite of the everything, AKA the same way that anything nice is nice for this family. Weird pockets of fun or quiet that they can scrape out every once in a while. Grave dirt under his fingernails, cold beer in his hand, saying something stupid that Sam can roll his eyes about.

Or, in this case, that Cas can either roll his eyes about or take at total face-value. And there's no beer. And mostly they've got blood under their fingernails. What can he say, it's always a dice roll. It's still pretty quiet here right now, and that's still nice. ]

Not like we haven't worked with worse. [ Seems pretty clear. Flat ground. Dean walks a little circle anyway to scope the perimeter that he's invented in his mind. He doesn't catch any unusual movement yet, so that's good.

No fire. Goes without saying. That's fine. Gonna be hard enough keeping a low profile when they're dealing with actual targeting magic. Tempting fate would be stupid at this point. (Maybe they'll tempt it tomorrow.)

He fishes around in his jacket pockets for a few seconds when he finishes his circuit and pulls out... dare we believe... it is. A Fruit Roll-Up to offer. ]

Rations?

[ You're his world, bro... he has to offer just on principle even though you are An Angel.

Note to self, Dean. Think about carrying around some trail mix or something. ]

[Usually a brisk 'no' would be Castiel's response, but watching Dean search his pockets for anything to eat and offering up his only find makes something inside of him gentle. He can recall the warmth of Dean's palm against his ear, even now, as if it were still there. They're trapped in these woods, Dean's shoulder must hurt terribly, and they can't even go looking for shelter for the night but still Dean laughed at something he found amusing and is holding out his only food to an angel that doesn't eat.

It's probably too dark for Dean to see Castiel's expression. The sun's made a lot of progress towards the ground. Maybe it comes through in his voice anyway.] I'm alright.

[He takes it a step further, touching the back of Dean's proffered hand just barely to push it back towards his chest.] Keep your strength up. You'll need it to fend off Sam's worry once we're out of here.

Edited 2025-11-10 20:12 (UTC)

[ Bonus unlocked: one of Dean's favorite tones of voice, which he figures he's at least allowed to admit to himself. Manfully. As long as he's not like constantly out in the world trying really hard to earn it on purpose.

It's not exactly the same when you gotta hold your hand out and ask. It's just something that you turn into an obligation. And he doesn't have to examine his feelings or anything about it, alright. It's just--

Whatever. It's whatever. It doesn't matter. He's keeping his school lunch treat-tier snack and his tone-of-voice gold star and following the change in subject like a moth to a light bulb. ]

We're not fendin' that off by a long shot, pal. [ Man, imagine if they could. Imagine if Dean wasn't making his sick little brother probably get even sicker worrying about him not coming back from a hunt on time. Crazy. ] Best-case scenario, we make our peace and brace for impact.

[ That kid worries like it's both of his full-time jobs. ]

[The vibrancy of Dean's soul thrums, and Cas lets himself imagine it's because of something he did.

The inevitability of Sam's concern now before them, they both sober. Night falls properly and completely, and the forest comes alive with the sound of nocturnal creatures. There isn't much for Dean to do in the darkness but rest and recuperate, Cas on his feet a few yards away, keeping watch. The silence usually doesn't bother Castiel, and he and Dean have sometimes passed hours in the car with hardly a word spoken between them, but something...gnaws.]

Earlier, [Cas begins, voice low and soft,] when I...moved away from you. [The flinch.] It wasn't because of you.

I want you to know that.

[ Nothing like chilling in the deepening darkness to give a man time to think. Mostly about how screwed they are when they get back to Sam. It's a pretty standard-issue thought path. One of those things Dean can idly turn over in his head without having to get too serious.

It's not bad out here. Wounds and danger and cold, all-around shitty circumstances aside. Oh, Dean needs his fast food joints. The Impala needs driving. The work never ends. But it can be nice to be in nature once in a blue moon. It's that kind of quiet that turns up on long-haul drives at 2 AM.

If the canopy wasn't so thick, they could probably see a hell of a lot of stars.

His reply is slower to come, because- well, Dean's crappy at this stuff. Can't admit that that's a huge relief if true, or that maybe it made his blood curdle, can't figure out the right thing to say back. ]

It's not like I'd blame you if it was, Cas. I was about to yank a freakin' arrow out of your skull. [ There. Perfect. A little jokey, a little it's fine, seriously.

He turns his head in the general direction of Cas's voice. ]

Wanna let me know what it was about or are we stickin' to what it wasn't?

[ Open invite. Talk to me, but like not if you don't want to, but also I'm gonna sit here in the woods and wonder about why it's enough of a thing for you to want to bring up, but not to explain 100%. Very casual. ]

[He hadn't gotten that far, truthfully; he just recalled Dean's desperately defiant tone and trembling pointer finger as he said, I did not leave you, and it became clear that Dean would blame himself for near anything that made Castiel bleed if left alone with it. So he doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to explain it, doesn't even know what to think of it beyond, It's not your fault.

With the question here now, though, Castiel thinks. What was it about?]

I...

[Cas?

Oh. Castiel abandons the thought and tilts his head, listening.] Sam is praying. ...he's figured out our phones aren't working.

[ "I...?" He nothing apparently. He changes the subject apparently.

And it's obviously his choice and if he doesn't wanna tell Dean about what's up, he doesn't have to or anything. Obviously. That's obvious. And for sure what's happening here.

Maybe Dean's just getting hangry. ]

Dammit. [ Sam's been so laid out, he was hoping they'd get more non-freaking-out time before he realized something's wrong. But not so.

Dean pushes himself back to his feet with a groan, like he's worried Sam will pierce the veil and see him on the ground and think he's hurt-hurt. Capital-H Hurt. Go off all half-cocked about it. Plus, well, he doesn't know if these angel-targeting measures ping onto stuff like "receiving a prayer over the soul antenna." Better if he stays close to Cas just in case. ]

Tell him I said to park his lanky ass back in bed pronto! [ Don't worry. It's a whisper-yell. Not even a real one yet.

This is a reasonable demand to make, right. On all fronts. ]

[Babygirl, how do you presume he do that]

I can't pray back to him, [Castiel points out, put out that Dean got up for no reason but still losing track of their conversation in favor of listening to Sam.

Sam, being the smart one of the group, already knew the exchange of information would only be going one way and is treating Cas to a feverish stream of consciousness about how much time he's willing to give it before he starts calling other hunters to see who might be nearby and able to mount a rescue, with or without him along. It's only because you're there Cas that I'm giving you guys until morning, Sam warns him, worry and malaise coloring the emotions of the prayer sickly yellows and purples. Keep my big brother safe. I'm begging you.

...Sam has always had so much more faith in him than he deserves.] He's going to start calling hunters to mount a rescue in the morning. He's...okay. Mostly coherent.

Edited 2025-11-11 22:01 (UTC)

-- shut up. [ Gottem (you did not). Take that (there was nothing to take because you were literally just wrong).

Dean needs to pace about this, still. He needs to be on guard and pacing about it. Quick hunt, he thought, little extra quality time with his best friend, Sammy'll just be put out about missing the action.

Mistake number one is always thinking something's gonna go easy. If he hadn't died from being stupid before in his life, he'd be amazed he's lived this long. That's just how the cookie crumbles, though. No time to wallow. ]

Oh yeah, as long as he's mostly coherent. Pain in my ass little... mount a rescue. [ Dean loves him. He loves him so much. He loves that he's a person who worries and cares and wants to look out for them. He loves that he's smart as hell and competent and still Sam, even after everything.

But a Sam who gets all fussy? For CLEARLY no good reason? Truly the most annoying bitch on God's green earth. ]

We got no exact location, we don't know where they've got any other traps laid out, and we don't even know how many of these sons of bitches we're dealin' with. We could be bait right now, Cas. I don't dig that.

[ They have targeting but all he got was tagged on the shoulder. All they could do was ground Cas and immobilize him-- okay, that's not exactly an "oh all we could do was this measly immobilizing and grounding an angel, which is nothing."

That must take some serious heft or some serious numbers or however these freaks do business, because Cas is-- y'know, he's Cas. Point is, live bait sells. ]

[Dean isn't wrong, either, and now that they know there's a countdown until Sam potentially puts himself in harm's way, there's no chance Dean will let himself sleep even a little.]

...okay. [Tucks his hands into his coat pockets. Waiting the druid out until morning is no longer an option. That he could try and argue the point or even angel-tap Dean to sleep does not even warrant consideration.] So. We use fire.

[ STOPS

MID-PACE

ON A DIME ]

I like fire.

[ Babe please don't say sike. He needs this. ]

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