[ He doesn't hear the sound of that clicking until it's close, and even then, he's slow to react. It's lethargy, the misery of killing his best friend weighing down on him. Castiel is hardly graceful sliding his knife from where he'd tucked it away, fingers stiff as he forces them to curl around the hilt. This is easy. He knows this, and it's only a matter of waiting for them to get close enough so he can strike. The countless bodies he'd left behind are a reminder of that, the one he'd dragged into the car with him screaming at him for the choices he'd made.
Castiel would defend Dean's body with his life if he had to. It didn't matter anymore.
But he doesn't have to do anything, the light ahead following the noise, and he knows it's not more of the infected. Moving too slow, using something to see in the dark... Not mindless or out for his blood. Castiel still keeps a good grip on the knife though, only feeling it loosen when they're close enough. A familiar face, a familiar body.
Fatima.
He thinks he might have said her name, but there's a sudden shiver rolling through him, blade hitting the ground at his feet as he stares at her. More than a little dumbfounded but grateful. Finally, finally-- someone who would help him. ]
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Castiel would defend Dean's body with his life if he had to. It didn't matter anymore.
But he doesn't have to do anything, the light ahead following the noise, and he knows it's not more of the infected. Moving too slow, using something to see in the dark... Not mindless or out for his blood. Castiel still keeps a good grip on the knife though, only feeling it loosen when they're close enough. A familiar face, a familiar body.
Fatima.
He thinks he might have said her name, but there's a sudden shiver rolling through him, blade hitting the ground at his feet as he stares at her. More than a little dumbfounded but grateful. Finally, finally-- someone who would help him. ]