[ By the time he focuses on his surroundings, everything is dark.
Night has fallen, and he's sitting off one of the main roads in an a car that's out of gas. The worst part, he thinks, is the bitter tang of blood in the air, and Castiel looks around, through the windows and the busted windshield before finally settling on the unmoving weight in his lap. If it hadn't been for the exit wound, the copious amounts of blood everywhere, Dean would almost look peaceful resting there against his thigh. He touches the tips of his fingers to his cheek, the slope of his nose. Maybe it's finally sinking in now, what he'd done. The scream of the infected, the jerk of the gun in his hand —
He can't. He can't. ]
I'm sorry. [ He chokes on those words, and he's pushing himself from the backseat, scrambling for the handle to get out. ] I'm sorry.
[ Outside, the door still open, he crouches down and covers his head with his hands. His clothes are coated in red, bits of gore clinging to his skin, and he stays there for several long minutes, trying to breathe and figure out what he's going to do. He has no idea, but he doesn't want to leave him like this. That, and he has to make it back to campus. ]
[There was something to be said for the Infected and their approach to attacking. Whereas vampires tried to be scheme-y and clever nine times out of ten, these guys were just blunt instruments. When they went at it, they really went at it. And you could hear them coming.
Not that she enjoyed fending them off, but at least none of them had managed to take her by surprise, so far.
Which made Fatima bold.
So she was out at night, continuing her work of looting the abandoned cars in the street. So far, she'd managed to college a discarded bag of sunflower seeds, a couple truly fabulous lipsticks, and about half a dozen Teletubbies keychains. The keychains were fairly useless and the lipstick, while pleasant, wouldn't get her far. The sunflower seeds, however, were what kept her going back. One person's trash was another person's treasure and she was eager to find any other seeds that might be useful once they got back to Zelien.
There was no doubt in her mind that they would, eventually, return.
So there she was, walking down the middle of the roadway, high heels clicking, when she hears movement up ahead. A slash and a grunt of pain later and her hands are on fire. If it's a zombie, she'll burn his ass. If it's something else...well...at least she'll be able to see.]
[ 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. ]
[The way that he's covered in blood shocks Fatima more than anything else. For a split second, she thinks that he's one of them but...no. Cas is still in there. Or at least something close to him.
All is not right with the world, however. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out in two hot seconds.]
Cas?
[She moves closer. It's tempting to run over to him, but somehow, she feels like she ought to approach him like a feral dog. Slowly. Carefully. Holding her hands--even if they are on fire--out so he can see them at all times.
Why did he drop his weapon? It's an odd question to consider at a time like this but...there's an internal inconsistency to it.
[ He nods, the movement short and a bit too jerky to really be considered much of anything else. It's an answer, and at the very least, she's not attacking him. Instead, his eyes are drawn to her hands, and it's sort of perfect, the thought filtering through everything else that's making him feel numb. There's fire. He could burn things with fire. ]
Something-- [ Happened. But he can't quite get out what it is. ] I had to.
[ It's soft and gentle, a confession in the midst of everything that's occurred. Slowly, he steps to the side to give her a better view of the backseat. Of all the blood, of Dean's body resting there behind him. His fingers curl into a fist. ]
["I had to." Words that are never said about anything nice. And as he steps aside, she knows that she's about to see what he had to do. Whatever horrible thing.
So her gait slows.
She could turn away. She could just not know. The thought is appealing. For a few seconds. But what kind of friend would she be if she did that? And anyway, she doesn't have the right to judge anyone for anything. Ever.
A thought that comforts her for an ephemeral moment before she reaches the car and looks inside and sees the glow of her fire dancing off of the planes of Dean's face.
Oh. Shit.
It takes a considerable amount of effort, but she manages to keep her face placid and expressionless as she turns to look at Cas.]
Castiel can't bring himself to, instead half-turned to stare at Dean and nothing else. There's so much he wants to say, things he should explain so that it doesn't seem as if-- Well, he doesn't care what it might seem like. He curls his fingers even tighter, feeling the bite of his nails in the flesh of his palms. ]
They cornered us, and we managed to get out. But he-- [ He stops to take a breath, eyes dropping to the ground. ] If I hadn't, he would have killed me.
[ And Dean had made him promise to keep Sam safe. Even if he hadn't actually agreed, he knows he wouldn't have denied it. ]
[She whets her lips, her fingers flexing slightly. In any other world, in any other situation, she would immediately be skeptical. But the pieces fit into place far too easily.]
They got him.
[She nods slightly. Odds are, this is the jackass Dean. Which leads her easily to the next statement.]
It's probably what he would have wanted you to do.
[And what he would have done, had their positions been reversed. Hell, it's what he would have done to any random stranger, most likely. But she bites back that particular bit of commentary.
She squeezes her fingers together, the flames dying out. By the time she reaches out to put a hand on Cas's shoulder, her fingers are warm to the touch, but not scalding.]
[ He repeats it again, bitterness in the words as he pulls his eyes up just enough to look at her hand. He can feel the warmth, and maybe, at one time, it might have been comforting. But he doesn't feel comforted by this. He doesn't feel comforted by her, and he wonders if that's wrong.
If he's wrong.
Castiel takes a breath, and his entire body shudders. ]
He asked me, and I couldn't-- I didn't want to leave him there. [ And then, he's really looking at her. To her, through her. ] ... what should I do?
[ Because chances are he's going to come back, but beyond that? Castiel has no direction, is lost standing there with Fatima. He doesn't want to think about telling Sam either. He feels sick. ]
[ There's more hesitation then. Because telling Sam means he has to explain what happened, and he doesn't think he can. He still doesn't know, is still trying to process everything. And the strange thing is-- He's lost people before. He's had to suffer through it, has killed for less and with even less compassion. But Dean is different, always has been, and it's... unfair.
All of this is so unfair, and it's the first time in a long time that he finally understands why. ]
No. [ It's why he didn't make it back to campus. ] And I can't carry him.
[ Can't carry him but doesn't want to leave his body open to whatever might ravage it. It's a tough decision. ]
[Fatima stares down at Dean's body, pursing her lips. This is not something he'd like. She knows that. But sometimes, you need to put the needs of the living before the guessed-at desires of the dead.
Cas and Sam? Still alive? Still feeling, breathing, thinking creatures.
Her compassion for Dean only went so far to begin with.]
[ He lingers for several seconds after, watching the way the blood slowly leaks over the back of the seat and drips to the floor of the car. Castiel looks worse, he's certain of it, but that's not the point of this. Slowly, he shakes his head, and he feels dizzy. ]
No.
[ It seems that's all he can say.
Dean wouldn't have wanted him dragging him all the way back. He wouldn't have wanted him to get caught, to be slowed down and killed short of reaching the campus. His fingers tremble as he takes a step forward, gripping the open car door so he can lean in and touch his shoulder. Castiel makes it quick, sliding his hand down the length of Dean's unmoving arm to pull off the ring around his finger.
If he comes back, if he doesn't-- ]
We should go. [ His voice is masked over, his expression cold now. ]
[ What else can they do? When he'd died, he's certain no one had come to bury him or retrieve what was left of him. No one had mentioned finding a body, so that only leaves one assumption. Castiel eyes her. ]
I shot him in the head, Fatima. He isn't going to turn. [ He hates that it still sounds angry, that every emotion he's trying to ignore surfaces rather quickly. ] Could you —
[ Castiel lifts his hand, loosely clenching his fingers into a fist to indicate the fire he'd seen her control before. There is no question about what he thinks they should do, and once it's done, they need to move quickly. ]
[Normal people, when they're asking for a favor, ask for a cup of sugar or a few dollars. Apparently, Fatima is waste management.
Something to think about at some other time, maybe.
But maybe this is the only option. If they can't carry him away, it's better than leaving him for the vultures. That just feels undignified. And sure, she and Dean don't exactly get along but...that doesn't mean he deserves indignity.
She gives Cas an even look.]
Promise me that you'll tell Sam. That's all I ask.
[ He hardly thinks of her like that. Only-- Castiel doesn't have many options left, and he feels that, with the onslaught of night, they need to be quick about it before anything else happens. He can process this later. Maybe. ]
I will.
[ Of course he will. He wants to, and he thinks, by some strange turn of events, he has to. He looks at her carefully. ]
He deserves to know. [ Even if he hopes this is only temporary. ]
[ And he shakes his head once, forcing himself to keep the words at bay. He doesn't want to explain anymore than that. He doesn't want to tell her anything. He doesn't want to think about it. ] What are you going to do?
[She keeps herself from saying, "What he tried to do to me." It's a delicious irony, but one only she can enjoy. Because while Fatima has a nasty, vengeful streak to her, she's not a cruel person by nature. She's not some kind of demon. She has empathy and she has kindness.
And in all reality, no matter her feelings about this particular Dean, she does not rejoice in his death.
Her hands are still slimy with blood, so it's a simple matter of squeezing her fingers together, just slightly, to coax a small, fresh ooze. And then, at once, both of them are ablaze, golden light dancing off of the planes of her face as she eyes the car.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
indecadence) wrote2013-05-24 08:48 pm
w19d6-7
Night has fallen, and he's sitting off one of the main roads in an a car that's out of gas. The worst part, he thinks, is the bitter tang of blood in the air, and Castiel looks around, through the windows and the busted windshield before finally settling on the unmoving weight in his lap. If it hadn't been for the exit wound, the copious amounts of blood everywhere, Dean would almost look peaceful resting there against his thigh. He touches the tips of his fingers to his cheek, the slope of his nose. Maybe it's finally sinking in now, what he'd done. The scream of the infected, the jerk of the gun in his hand —
He can't. He can't. ]
I'm sorry. [ He chokes on those words, and he's pushing himself from the backseat, scrambling for the handle to get out. ] I'm sorry.
[ Outside, the door still open, he crouches down and covers his head with his hands. His clothes are coated in red, bits of gore clinging to his skin, and he stays there for several long minutes, trying to breathe and figure out what he's going to do. He has no idea, but he doesn't want to leave him like this. That, and he has to make it back to campus. ]
no subject
Not that she enjoyed fending them off, but at least none of them had managed to take her by surprise, so far.
Which made Fatima bold.
So she was out at night, continuing her work of looting the abandoned cars in the street. So far, she'd managed to college a discarded bag of sunflower seeds, a couple truly fabulous lipsticks, and about half a dozen Teletubbies keychains. The keychains were fairly useless and the lipstick, while pleasant, wouldn't get her far. The sunflower seeds, however, were what kept her going back. One person's trash was another person's treasure and she was eager to find any other seeds that might be useful once they got back to Zelien.
There was no doubt in her mind that they would, eventually, return.
So there she was, walking down the middle of the roadway, high heels clicking, when she hears movement up ahead. A slash and a grunt of pain later and her hands are on fire. If it's a zombie, she'll burn his ass. If it's something else...well...at least she'll be able to see.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
All is not right with the world, however. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out in two hot seconds.]
Cas?
[She moves closer. It's tempting to run over to him, but somehow, she feels like she ought to approach him like a feral dog. Slowly. Carefully. Holding her hands--even if they are on fire--out so he can see them at all times.
Why did he drop his weapon? It's an odd question to consider at a time like this but...there's an internal inconsistency to it.
Something isn't right.]
no subject
Something-- [ Happened. But he can't quite get out what it is. ] I had to.
[ It's soft and gentle, a confession in the midst of everything that's occurred. Slowly, he steps to the side to give her a better view of the backseat. Of all the blood, of Dean's body resting there behind him. His fingers curl into a fist. ]
I didn't have a choice.
no subject
So her gait slows.
She could turn away. She could just not know. The thought is appealing. For a few seconds. But what kind of friend would she be if she did that? And anyway, she doesn't have the right to judge anyone for anything. Ever.
A thought that comforts her for an ephemeral moment before she reaches the car and looks inside and sees the glow of her fire dancing off of the planes of Dean's face.
Oh. Shit.
It takes a considerable amount of effort, but she manages to keep her face placid and expressionless as she turns to look at Cas.]
no subject
Castiel can't bring himself to, instead half-turned to stare at Dean and nothing else. There's so much he wants to say, things he should explain so that it doesn't seem as if-- Well, he doesn't care what it might seem like. He curls his fingers even tighter, feeling the bite of his nails in the flesh of his palms. ]
They cornered us, and we managed to get out. But he-- [ He stops to take a breath, eyes dropping to the ground. ] If I hadn't, he would have killed me.
[ And Dean had made him promise to keep Sam safe. Even if he hadn't actually agreed, he knows he wouldn't have denied it. ]
no subject
They got him.
[She nods slightly. Odds are, this is the jackass Dean. Which leads her easily to the next statement.]
It's probably what he would have wanted you to do.
[And what he would have done, had their positions been reversed. Hell, it's what he would have done to any random stranger, most likely. But she bites back that particular bit of commentary.
She squeezes her fingers together, the flames dying out. By the time she reaches out to put a hand on Cas's shoulder, her fingers are warm to the touch, but not scalding.]
You know that, right?
no subject
[ He repeats it again, bitterness in the words as he pulls his eyes up just enough to look at her hand. He can feel the warmth, and maybe, at one time, it might have been comforting. But he doesn't feel comforted by this. He doesn't feel comforted by her, and he wonders if that's wrong.
If he's wrong.
Castiel takes a breath, and his entire body shudders. ]
He asked me, and I couldn't-- I didn't want to leave him there. [ And then, he's really looking at her. To her, through her. ] ... what should I do?
[ Because chances are he's going to come back, but beyond that? Castiel has no direction, is lost standing there with Fatima. He doesn't want to think about telling Sam either. He feels sick. ]
no subject
You need to tell Sam.
[Sorry, Cas.]
Does the car have any gas?
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All of this is so unfair, and it's the first time in a long time that he finally understands why. ]
No. [ It's why he didn't make it back to campus. ] And I can't carry him.
[ Can't carry him but doesn't want to leave his body open to whatever might ravage it. It's a tough decision. ]
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Cas and Sam? Still alive? Still feeling, breathing, thinking creatures.
Her compassion for Dean only went so far to begin with.]
I'll help you.
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No.
[ It seems that's all he can say.
Dean wouldn't have wanted him dragging him all the way back. He wouldn't have wanted him to get caught, to be slowed down and killed short of reaching the campus. His fingers tremble as he takes a step forward, gripping the open car door so he can lean in and touch his shoulder. Castiel makes it quick, sliding his hand down the length of Dean's unmoving arm to pull off the ring around his finger.
If he comes back, if he doesn't-- ]
We should go. [ His voice is masked over, his expression cold now. ]
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[That raises a few red flags. Both based on what she knows about Cas and what she knows about the world of the supernatural.
But how to put it delicately?]
What if he's going to...turn?
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I shot him in the head, Fatima. He isn't going to turn. [ He hates that it still sounds angry, that every emotion he's trying to ignore surfaces rather quickly. ] Could you —
[ Castiel lifts his hand, loosely clenching his fingers into a fist to indicate the fire he'd seen her control before. There is no question about what he thinks they should do, and once it's done, they need to move quickly. ]
no subject
Something to think about at some other time, maybe.
But maybe this is the only option. If they can't carry him away, it's better than leaving him for the vultures. That just feels undignified. And sure, she and Dean don't exactly get along but...that doesn't mean he deserves indignity.
She gives Cas an even look.]
Promise me that you'll tell Sam. That's all I ask.
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I will.
[ Of course he will. He wants to, and he thinks, by some strange turn of events, he has to. He looks at her carefully. ]
He deserves to know. [ Even if he hopes this is only temporary. ]
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Hopefully, Cas won't tell Dean when he comes back.
Because he's going to come back.]
Okay. Check the car's tank. If it's full, get as far away as possible right now.
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It's empty. We were looking for more when--
[ And he shakes his head once, forcing himself to keep the words at bay. He doesn't want to explain anymore than that. He doesn't want to tell her anything. He doesn't want to think about it. ] What are you going to do?
no subject
And in all reality, no matter her feelings about this particular Dean, she does not rejoice in his death.
Her hands are still slimy with blood, so it's a simple matter of squeezing her fingers together, just slightly, to coax a small, fresh ooze. And then, at once, both of them are ablaze, golden light dancing off of the planes of her face as she eyes the car.]