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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 5 years

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destiel roll reversal where dean's the angel and cas is a hunter?

Okay, so I know this is SUPER LATE, but would you still accept the short thingy I could write? Many thanks, and the prompt is extremely appreciated ~

***

Bobby and Castiel waited. The older hunter was going through the ingredients of the spell again, though it had already been performed and discovering a flaw wouldn’t be helpful now - but perhaps he did it to look for a reason why he hadn’t shown up yet.

Dean.

That’s all Pamela had told them.

It didn’t sound like a grand name you call an all-powerful entity by. It wasn’t a name you’d listen to and quake in your boots. It brought the image of a guy-next-door; the name of a neighbor with a little garden but an unmowed lawn, the name of a mechanic shop owner, maybe a business major at community college. It didn’t make Castiel think of someone who could pull him out of hell. Literally.

But he didn’t doubt Pamela either. So, he simply waited, with a shotgun and a demon blade, all prepared for whoever came through that door - demon or some other supernatural sonuvabitch.

Castiel had been leaning against a dusty slab, counting his breath, and he could see Bobby pace around in circles around the ashes of the performed ritual, still frowning as if the grey remains were telling him that he’d got it wrong. “Bobby,” He called. “Stop it. You didn’t make any mistakes, you know that too. And we both went over it together. So if - if this thing is summonable, he’s on his way.”

Bobby shot a gruff look at the hunter, who may not have been pacing around anxiously like him, but his grip on his demon blade hadn’t loosened an inch. Castiel’s eyes held a familiar flare, one of the final stages of a hunt. How could any of them have known, that this was the opposite of a hunt and the opposite of a finale?

When Bobby started to say something to the latter, about minding his own business probably, suddenly the barn door swung open.

Following the clear creak of rusted metal hinges, and darkness pouring in from outside, finally came distinct footsteps.

It was everything at once. The man’s face came into the clear, and Bobby recognized a confident stride. Green eyes. No greatness implied in his gait. Barely taller than Castiel. No weapons on him.

It was everything at once, and nothing at all. Castiel had instantly aimed his gun at the figure but didn’t use it just yet. An anticlimax beheld him, and some sort of damp dread vanished. He stared at the man.

No, not a man. Just...Dean.

The footsteps brought him closer. Now that Castiel had gotten over his initial surprise at the man’s inhumanly attractive face, he stared at the rest of him with a more objective sense. This was the being that pulled him out of hell. This was the terrific Dean! It was ridiculous that Castiel had trouble looking past those green, green eyes; when there was so much to behold.

The one who’d walked in looked shockingly ordinary, in the cosmic scheme of things.

He slumped slightly beneath a leather jacket, with the air of someone who wore it too often, and had classic cut blond hair. There was no expression on his face, all hard lines of jaw and cheek - except perhaps the beginnings of a smirk as he noticed Castiel’s heavy, inspecting gaze.

Inwardly, Castiel didn’t know what to make of this. They’d been expecting a higher-pay grade demon - but Dean looked the opposite of one of those hellish creatures. There was a glow he carried into the room with himself. They’d expected a force of nature strong enough to pull him out of hell; someone terrible and violent; something vastly more evil!

This being...he wore holey acid-washed jeans, for Christ’s sake.

Castiel shoved the incredulous judgment of character from his head momentarily and resumed thinking like a hunter should’ve been. Not someone who’s suddenly enamored by a non-human who casually walked into the traps he'd been summoned to. (Like he was looking to order two drinks for a date.)

Dean walked over the devil’s trap without a thought, crossing the barn over to them. So, either this demon was strong enough that those didn’t hold him back at all - or he wasn’t a demon at all.

But when Castiel heard Bobby cock his gun, he dropped his thoughts and did the same. They both shot at him together, multiple times, aiming for the heart.

Well, neither of them had expected this ghastly entity to drop dead due to iron-bullets, but they were both shocked when he didn’t even flinch. Just twisted his lips into a bemused frown, directing it completely at Castiel with eyebrows raised as if to mock.

The strain of being focused upon affected Castiel’s accuracy, and he fumbled to put down the gun after two of his bullets hit Dean without cause, and one struck the wall behind him after being shot with a loud rapport. His grip on the knife, at his waist, tightened still.

“Who are you?” Castiel conjured his most commanding voice, and glared at him.

“Wanna do this the good ol’ 20-questions style?” He grinned.

It was such a sudden gesture, the baring of teeth in such a genial smile, and Castiel’s sense of safety - he had no idea where it had even come from - shattered. He snapped, and all the righteous fury to demand answers - and much of the residue from goddamn hell, came bolting back to his chest.

Castiel had always hated the villains who thought they were funny.

“No, I don't.” He growled, and in a quick motion, stabbed him; piercing the man’s heart with Ruby's knife. And a stab in the heart could kill just about everyone, and with Ruby’s blade - This had killed the worst of monsters yet.

But there was no dying light, or yelp of pain. Blood drenched the man's shirt as it flowed from the wound, and Castiel was too taken aback to even twist it out. As if he’d been ticked with a feather, the man took the blade by the hilt and calmly pulled it out of his chest. The blood which flowed out seemed to reduce.

Before Castiel could exchange a look with Bobby about this strange encounter they were in the middle of, and warn him against attacking more, it was too late. Bobby rushed up to hit the guy with a pipe from behind, aiming for the head and a fatal wound. Without even looking in his direction, he caught Bobby’s swing, turned, and waved two fingers at the grizzled hunter’s forehead, causing him to pass out instantly.

Castiel inhaled sharply, fearful for Bobby’s safety. He followed his dropping body and noticed - hopefully - a heaving chest, indicating there’s still life. Castiel needed to save him! So, he doesn’t charge at Dean or yell at him, lest he anger him further and make him take Bobby’s life. All his thoughts of this thing not being as evil as they’d anticipated vanished.

“Look,” Dean suddenly spoke up, and Castiel glared at him. Dean took a step ahead and Castiel inattentively shuffled back, “We need to talk. Preferably somewhere less dusty, though.” Castiel swallowed, waiting for him to finish. The man went on casually, and it was all sorts of ridiculous how normal he sounded. “Well, how about this roadhouse that I’m a regular at? It’s a couple states away, so what say you and I skip town?”

“Who are you?” Castiel repeated, stormy. What sort of jest was this? Take him out for drinks, and then take out his intestines? And what did he want to talk about? What could Castiel know about anything, that was of interest to him? What could he have to say to him?

“Dean.” He replied, simply.

“I..” Castiel was once again hit by how the name was so normal. Why couldn’t he have had an unpronounceable Latin name which translated to The Supreme Evil or something, that’d make it easier. “I know that!” He recomposed himself. “I meant, what are you?”

“You could call me an angel if that’s the kind of stuff you’re into,” Dean shrugged. Castiel froze. Angel? “But it’d be better if you called me Dean. There are thousands of angels, just as there are millions of humans. But I’m Dean. That’s what’s important, if at all. Just as you’re Cas, right?”

“I’m not.” Castiel pulled back, dumbly.

“What, wrong address?” Dean squinted, before breaking into such an easy grin that the desire to mirror it was strong. “Nah, I’m kidding. I know you well enough to know who you are, Cas. I pulled you from hell. And I’m kind of a gentleman that way because I only forget the really dumb one-night-stands, not my four-month favorites.” He winked.

Castiel frowned. “First of all, I’m Castiel.” Dean rolled his eyes, dismissively. He ignored it. “And secondly, we aren't - I mean, surely you can’t be an angel!?”

“Why not?” Dean asked, curious. “You don't believe we exist?” Dean didn’t wait for Castiel’s firm nod of his head. “Don't be a dick, Cas, everyone is valid.” Dean snickered at his own joke, but Castiel didn’t.

Castiel was silent for a minute, and when he finally spoke up, his head was a tangle of indecision. “But if you’re a-actually an angel,” He stammered. “Wouldn’t you have wings?”

“You need proof?” Dean’s eyes flashed with a slight bit of emotion. As if...for some reason, he was disinclined to show Castiel his wings. “Well, it’s kinda third date material, you know?”

“I don't believe you’re an angel, because -” Castiel declared, barely thinking about what he spoke.

“Because I’m not as grand as an angel would be, huh?” Dean shot back. “Because I don't have a halo? Because when I entered, I didn’t make sparks fly and shatter the windows? Because I didn’t give you some lame line like ‘I gripped you tight and raised you from perdition’, and because I’m not a Michael wannabe in a tuxedo and because I -”

Castiel didn’t know exactly why, but it was hurtful to hear Dean mock his judgment, and hurtful still to see him this fighting back verbally.

“Some angel you are,” He cut him off, pointedly. Not listening to the voice in his head. “You burned out that poor woman’s eyes!”

“I warned her to stop,” Dean countered, but sounding like he’d taken a blow too. “She didn't listen! Looking at my true form can do that to people.”

“Then, what is this?” The dots connected in his head. “Why am I alright?”

“Oh, don't worry, it's not because you're special or anything. Of course this isn't my true form,” Dean displayed a tiny bit of a smirk. “You grossly underestimate me if you think this freckle-faced bow-legged 30 year old white man is all that’s me?”

“So, you’re possessing some poor -” Castiel recoiled.

“He prayed for this; some corner-office-y Smith from Illinois,” Dean raised his eyebrows. “And, well, there’s a limit to the number of days you can survive on suspenders, treadmill desks and kale salads. He turned to the divine, gave himself over, and well - I kinda liked his face.” Dean ran a hand through his hair.

Castiel decided to drop it because he had hardly an idea what he’d even say to that. “I still don't get it, Dean. Why would an angel rescue me from hell? ...why did you do it?”

“Because I was dispensible, I guess, I was sent on an errand, and the guy they told me to save originally seemed like a torturous dick, but you were much better, so I went with my instincts and fought off those dickheads like a badass, to fly out with you,” Dean deadpanned.

“I -” Castiel blinked.

“I’m kidding, okay?” Dean suddenly burst into a grin. “You were my errand. You're both the dick and the good guy. Nevermind. It was a joke for another audience, another time." He paused. Cleared his throat. "Because God - no, because Heaven commanded it.” And in a slow descend, the dangerously contagious charming smile slipped away into a frown, his eyes grave. “W-They have work for you, Castiel.”

***

I just really hope you find this okay because this is awfully short and I dunno, and once again, sorry for being months late, @xxkatgotyourtonguexx ~ and tagging my taglist : @all-or-nothing-baby @petrichoravellichor @adventurous-blob @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @telefunkies @legendary-destiel @ladywaywarddsc @styggtroll @moderatelypanickedbisexual @trenchcoatsandfreckles @noemithenephilim @naitia @ctrl-alt-destiel @a-mess-of-many-fandoms and maybe @3dg310rdsupreme uwu

Also, many thanks to @shejustcalledmeafish for helping me edit, and If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist, just drop me a line!

#destiel #writing prompts #destiel roll reversal #angel dean #hunter cas #bobby singer #humorous maybe #and a teensy bit of angst if you could call it that #general #supernatural #spn #castiel #dean winchester #spn fanfiction #castiel winchester #spn fandom

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bffhreprise · 5 years

Text

Entry 275

:There goes our day.: pouted Mai as we watched a messenger enter the room through my eyes.

“This is outrageous!” exclaimed Lady Pendreigh, letting her displeasure show.

The messenger instantly went from being a picture of dignity to a terrified child, desperately clinging to what he held. We couldn’t blame him. Those who knew of our Lady’s reputation without knowing her couldn’t realize that she was still in perfect control, despite venting a little. Of course, the house could be incinerated, and she’d still only be venting a little. The heat pouring off her wasn’t good for the computers. We hoped she was protecting them. Doing so ourselves at the moment might be one annoyance too much.

As James took the letter and lifted the man to his feet, Lady Pendreigh started expounding upon what she would like to do with the one responsible for this affront against her. Ever calm, James took the messenger out.

Lady Pendreigh still hadn’t finished her speech when he returned, so she rounded on him, saying, “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“I’m being challenged again?” he questioned dryly.

Sighing and shaking her head, she said, “James, he’s trying to make us miss the wedding! When I find out who this upstart is…” Her fist clenched and fire erupted around it until she visibly calmed herself.

“Wouldn’t Adelmar delay things if you asked?” suggested James.

“Of course not!” she snapped, looking slightly apologetic just after she spoke.

“I thought he was invited.” continued James.

“Yes, but he was never actually going to attend. Ai and Mai don’t warrant his attention. He’s not likely to even attend Duncan’s wedding whenever that will happen.”

James glanced at us, so we shrugged.

“Duncan’s getting married?” he questioned.

“He must eventually.” she explained. “He wouldn’t be allowed to let his line end.”

“But Ai and Mai…” he started, motioning to us.

“They wouldn’t be allowed to inherit his position. Izumi would see about having another child before she let that happen.” she retorted.

:Okaasama is such a stickler for keeping the ruling line ‘pure’ of outside influence.: stated Mai.

:Yet she still sold us out. I wonder what she was promised. She wouldn’t tell just anyone about our link.:

:We have a powerful enemy meddling with Lady Pendreigh’s affairs.: agreed Mai.

“Time to go, boss-man, sir!” exclaimed Aaliyah.

My sister and I glanced at one another. Neither of us had noticed her enter the room.

“Go!? Where could you be taking him now? You, of course, realize what he’s holding.” accused Lady Pendreigh.

“A letter of challenge from one Hyun-woo Imugi. The boss-man needs a weapon, so we’re going to go pick one up.” replied the tiny assassin.

:How could she know who the message is from?: I questioned.

:How does she know a tenth of the things she does? Her information network must be incredible. There’s always the possibility that this Hyun-woo attempted to hire her: suggested Mai.

Our thoughts became distracted as we noticed the shocked expression on Lady Pendreigh’s face. We weren’t surprised that she knew the name, but who could he be to warrant such surprise? Our great family constantly bickered.

“You didn’t work it out yet?” prodded Aaliyah. “Who else would have that kind of pull throughout Asia?”

“But he’s never even shown interest of anything outside his country. He’s practically retired. I never thought… Well, his age…” whispered Lady Pendreigh before pursing her lips in a thoughtful expression.

“Doesn’t look it, does he!?” exclaimed Aaliyah with a grin. Aside to James, she whispered “He’s forty-six.”

I felt that my sister suddenly looked slightly more pale. Of course, I did as well through her eyes. Someone from our family aging slowly usually meant their generation had close ties to a Slayer, possibly even a descendent. Typically, a descendent such as our Lady would take on a quiet, background role in the family after two or three decades, so as not to interfere with the current head. Directly interfering with the affairs of the current generation was practically unheard of.

Taking the letter from James and handing it to Lady Pendreigh, Aaliyah said, “You can hold onto this. We’ll be back soon!”

Lady Pendreigh nodded.

,,,^._.^,,,

“Father…” whispered my son before falling to the ground.

My heart was wrenched inside of me. No man should be forced to kill his own son, but here I had. Who was approaching me now without the slightest regard for my position or grief? I quelled the impulse to lash out.

“You there. Think not that you can hide from me.” I warned. I pulled the sword from my stomach and tossed it back to my fallen child, but the transformation was coming. I fell to my knee, unable to remain standing with this new battle waging inside me. How many had died today, following my treacherous son?

The boy who approached was very tall, handsome, and completely foreign in dress. His clothes were obviously made with incredible skill, but that style was unknown to me, which shouldn’t be possible. Even now—with my inner battle—the minds of thousands were within sight and none knew this man or his dress.

“What manner of dress do you wear? You are no servant of my son, Amr?” I questioned, surprised at the boy’s calm demeanor as he studied me. How many wars had he fought to look upon so many fallen with only a passing sorrow?

“No, I am not.” he replied, his Welsh sounding as a well-bred native.

I believed him. There was no sign deceit on his face, and though he moved as one trained to fight, his stance wasn’t the least aggressive. Who was he? What was he? He obviously wasn’t human, not with such flawless skin. “Will you fetch my sword from my son’s chest? No spell can touch that blade.” I trusted Caledfwlch to judge this man’s character.

The man looked at the sword residing within my son and grimaced ever so slightly. Did he know of this blade’s power, or did he truly find such a task distasteful? Perhaps he was merely disinclined to follow the order of another. “I see the hesitation within you, but know that my son wanted to usurp the throne for himself. I could not ask his elder brother to face him, not when his greed was my own folly. Please, grant me this wish.” I urged, knowing I might have to stop resisting the change to kill this new threat should the sword prove him a snake.

A chill shot through me as I saw the brilliance of my sword in this other man’s hand. Caledfwlch wouldn’t even release a glimmer of its light for an average man. The truly just might make the blade glow to the eye. For me, the sword blazed into a light most could not look upon. In the hand of this man, the chimaeras’ fire washed the blade in light to rival the sun, a light that washed as an aura around the man’s body as well. He looked as an angel of destruction, here to make known its terrible will.

“Who are you, stranger?” I asked, ashamed at the unsteadiness of my tone.

“James.” he replied, handing over my sword as if Caledfwlch were a trinket.

“Are you here to take the throne before my son?” I asked, fear giving my voice an edge.

“No. Definitely not.”

Sword in hand, I felt no deceit from him, though I felt Caledfwlch’s longing for him. Who was this man? Forcing myself to speak, I said, “But you are worthy, despite standing while a king kneels.” Was this man a danger? If so, could I actually save my world from him?

The man knelt and said, “Sorry, your majesty.”

“Perhaps a gift then, your majesty, to protect this traveler on the road.” came a voice I knew well.

Standing there, clothed in her gown of stardust, was the Lady of the Lake, creator of Caledfwlch. Despite her guise as a woman of incomparable beauty, I knew she was a creature of unmatched power.

“My lady…” I started, my voice shaking in those two words. I took an iron grip on my emotions and asked “Have you come to reclaim Caledfwlch?”

“No, Arthur. I merely want to see this young man protected, and know you to have weapons enough.” she replied, seeming to float more than walk over to me. She knelt at my side and crooned to the sword.

Not daring to argue with her, I took the dagger from my waist and handed it to the strange man, saying, “Here then, lad. Carnwennan has served me well. May it serve you now.” When he had the dagger in hand, I told him “Leave me now. I feel the change coming and know not how long I can suppress it.”

“Kyduan searches even now.” whispered the Lady. “If you can last a minute more, you will see him again before you leave us.”

My face took on a smile that was surely a pale comparison of the Lady’s, but I had hope of seeing my firstborn before the change forced me to leave this world. Still smiling, I watched as the Lady guided the man away. Whoever he was, he had a great destiny ahead or she would not be with him.

,,,^._.^,,,

“You weren’t gone long. Aaliyah give you something she had lying around the condo?” questioned Lady Pendreigh when James returned minutes after he had left. “A dagger?”

Our eyes locked on what he carried, trying to discern its worth.

“James, where was that hidden?’ questioned Lady Pendreigh with obvious excitement.

“I can’t say where I got it.”

“But… do you know what that is!?” she asked excitedly.

“Carnwennan, which once belonged to a man called Arthur.”

Our eyes bulged.

“King Arthur. The King Arthur. That dagger has been lost since his death!”

James didn’t react to the information, save for a slight sadness in his eyes. Did he love the tale or feel pained at having another secret? James was very strange in many ways. We wondered if he had the slightest clue of the power in that small blade. If not, he’d find out soon enough.

#Best Friend For Hire Reprise #Best #Friend #For #Hire #Reprise #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

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