endoftheverse | Deerington Inbox.

[Sam's heartbeat quickens, and for a moment he's not sure what to say, what to do. He doesn't have Dean here to help him explain, and Cas is — Cas is out, and Cas would know how to explain it to himself, right? But it's just him, him and all of his gross sins, all of his mistakes and all the lives lost that weigh down on him. He's ashamed, honestly. Dean's left this place to go die by Lucifer's (Sam's) hand. Cas could do the same, any time, any day.

Sam slowly sinks to sit on his bed, still made like he hasn't slept in it at all in the past 24 hours. He hasn't.]

I said yes.

[You sure did, Lucifer says. Sam's fingers clutch at his knees until the skin pales. Lucifer's grace throbs suddenly, clear enough to Castiel and likely Castiel alone — like an explosion underneath water, illuminating Sam's ribs for a moment with cold, pale blue energy. Sam pushes Lucifer down, bowing until his bangs sweep and hide his shamed gaze.

Maybe this is a good thing, though. Maybe Castiel will smite him or something. Purge the town of him for a time... Maybe this is how he gets around promising Dean he'd keep trying. He could just... let Castiel handle him and Lucifer both. Sure, he'd failed getting rid of Sam Winchester plenty of times-

But he's not an angel, now is he?]

He won.

Edited 2021-01-19 02:04 (UTC)

[ The confession does little to change his outlook. Near the end, Sam said yes to Lucifer damning himself in order to stop him. It lines up with what he's already experienced and gives him a time-stamp to go off from. Tilting his head up, he watches Sam pale and opens his mouth to ask him what's wrong when he feels it. The binding energy of a being far surpassing anything he knows. ]

Lucifer.

[ He whispers as power slams against his vessel making him jolt. He was here. In control. It's not until he's fully engulfed by the blue energy that he calls on his angel blade. He knew that grace. Felt it stalk him when he first confronted Lucifer trapped behind a circle of angel fire. His vessel was falling apart then, but Sam... Sam looked fine. He hesitates. What was he going to do? Even if he could kill Lucifer, he'd kill Sam too. Jaw tightening, he closes his hand, the blade disappearing. Then, as if on cue, the energy subsides leaving Sam to deal with the aftermath. When he utters the words, he already knows they're coming, but it still hits him like a punch to the throat. They lost.

There's too much to take in, too many questions, and all of them get tangled up in his throat. Turmoil churns within him, and he stares at Sam with a look somewhere between anguish and despair. But he doesn't have time to get caught up in disillusion. Tense shoulders take a more rigid stance, and he pulls his thoughts together enough to push down the shock and deal with the situation at hand. ]

How did you do that? [ He finally breaks the silence, keeping the turmoil at bay. ] Suppress him?

[He doesn't flinch at the sight of the angel blade. If anything, his eyes flutter shut, and he expects the impalement through the chest, any moment. When nothing happens, he blinks, looks back over at Castiel with an admittedly disappointed frown.

... Not today then. Maybe.

Sam breathes in deep. His soul is wrestling inside him with the grace of the devil as he sits there on his bed; it's a calm scene on the outside, but on the inside? There is a shredded spirit, like a scarred pit bull that had just been dragged in from a vicious dog fight. It gets caught in Lucifer's coiled grace, and it just narrowly squeezes free, pushes back and keeps satan down.

Maybe that's why he seems weary, even as he sits.]

I don't know. He's weaker in Deerington?

I mean, I couldn't do it before. I couldn't... keep him down for long. But I've been able to do it here. I just have to be careful, stay focused. Try not to get into — uh. Into trouble.

[ It's a testament to his deep-seated respect for Sam that he doesn't question him. He knows the type of machinations set against him that drove him down this path, and his own role in it. He never asked for forgiveness instead put forth his best effort to right his wrongs. He failed of course, and apparently, so did Sam. ]

Weaker?

[ He prompts, still feeling his brother's power in the air, dissipating quickly but still present. It's disturbing how bright it feels. Despite his fall, Lucifer was still one of the most powerful beings imbued by Heaven's light. Maybe that's why it felt so unnatural. Shaking off the feeling, he catches the weariness in Sam's state, and his eyes narrow, a piece of the puzzle sliding into place. ]

Are you... fighting him right now?

[ He asks, stepping forward as if he means to intercede, but he can't. They both know it. Still, that doesn't stop him from trying. ]

[Sam scoffs, disdain for himself rolling off his shoulders in waves as he sits there. Broad shoulders sag, bend downward like a man in prayer — he honestly hasn't prayed in years. Not since he learned what angels truly were and what he truly was to them.

("Which is why you shouldn't trust Castiel," Lucifer says, and shoves again, the door he's kept behind thumping. Sam chews on his lip and ignores the distant intrusive thought.)]

... 'Fighting' is a strong word.

I'm — holding the door closed. Um.

Like... Like someone pushing it with their back.

[He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose.]

I don't know... Something like that. I focus a lot. It's better than the first few weeks. I couldn't keep track of time or anything, then. Could barely focus on words coming out of people's mouths.

It's easier now.

[ It's a strange thing watching an iteration of someone he never thought he'd cross paths with again. Death meant an end to the torture and peace in Heaven where he could watch over him. But in the end he suffered... The cage was meant to hold one of the strongest beings in creation. To have Sam there was akin to a blood sacrifice cut down on the altar of Heaven to appease a capricious god. ]

Sam. You can't continue like this.

[ He steps forward, concern touching his face. ]

Not alone. He'll wear you down.

Edited 2021-01-22 01:15 (UTC)

[He rubs a hand down his face.]

... I know I can't continue like this forever, but I don't have many choices right now. I'm not — sure how to fix it. [He looks a little lost when he says it, biting his thumbnail, gazing toward the window he tends to hyper-focus on when things get bad.] I don't want anyone to get hurt because of him. He'll — I know he'll target people if they get too close.

... I wish I knew what to do next.

[Quieting, gnawing his lip, he looks down with a shade of shame.]

I was, uh. Going to try to get rid of both of us, and see if it worked here. But I told Dean and the others I wouldn't... so. I'm here.

Probably wouldn't have worked, anyway.

[Lucifer's a real dick like that, you know?]

This isn't something you can fix.

[ He tells him solemnly. Once granted permission, it was nearly impossible to expunge an angel let alone Lucifer. He wouldn't give him false hope and deny it. They both knew it wasn't true just like they both knew the lengths his brother would go to gain an edge. ]

Lucifer will use people against you. [ He doesn't deny it. ] But harming yourself won't stop him. The only thing you'll end up accomplishing is hurting the people closest to you.

[ If it shocks him to hear about the dark places his thoughts have taken him, he doesn't show it and offers aid instead of judgment. ]

I can help. If you want me too.

Edited 2021-01-27 03:41 (UTC)

I know that.

[That he can't fix it. And he admits as much with weariness in the lines of his face. God, he would do anything to fix it. He'd sacrifice whatever he had to of himself in the process, if it meant undoing all that damage.

Lucifer will use people against you.

He buries his fingers into his bangs, smoothing them back as he sits hunched and vulnerable and a little unsure on what he's supposed to do, in the end. Stay near people, hurt them. Stay away from people, hurt them. Hurt feelings about him not talking to them is better than being murdered by the devil, right?

Looking up at Castiel, gray-rimmed eyes look lost. He sighs softly through his nose and seems... unconvinced. His faith has taken a blow the last few years in every conceivable way, anyway.]

Help how?

[ That lost look etched across Sam's frame draws his mouth down into a grim line. He's seen it before. In Dean, Bobby. Himself. He knows what it's like to lose faith. To have misery bury itself so deeply it feels a part of you. Constant. Impenetrable. It almost swallowed him whole once. If it wasn't for Sam and Dean, it may have. They helped him through it, we're there for him when all he wanted to do is dull the ache with drink.

This time, he returns the favor, meeting his eyes when Sam looks back at him. Despite his own shifting emotions at all that he's learned here, he stands steady and strong. Immovable not for himself, but for the soul barely holding itself together. ]

When I woke up here, I found a library filled with books of power. I've read through some of them and I suspect I can find something that may be able to help us.

[ How? He doesn't know. But he'll find something. Anything. He will not abandon him to the whims of his brother. ]

[Sam seems receptive — his eyes meet Castiel's more directly, but there's a fear of hope there, a fear of believing in something and then getting it all torn back down. Still... Castiel wouldn't sugar coat anything, would he? He's never been one to sugar coat. If there was really no chance of being able to help... he'd say so. Right?

He's not sure. He wishes he knew Castiel as well as Dean did, but —

He wants to believe him. So, so badly.

Tentatively — so, so tentatively:]

... A library? Where?

[ Standing across the room from the tense soul, Castiel recognizes the fear holding Sam back. He can only guess at its source but suspects it's a culmination of different fears coming to a head.

Their paths diverged some time ago and neither were what the other expected. With how much he's changed in the last few months, he can only guess what kind of version of him Sam knows from his world. He hopes it's someone he can trust and settles himself to give him what he never gave the Sam in his world - time.

Time to catch his breath and take a moment to pull himself together before tackling the next problem. Castiel waits for him. Lets him come to a decision on his own without pressing for an answer. When it finally comes a feeling deep inside slowly uncoils, loosening a tension he didn't know was there. ]

I can take you there.

[The thought of an angel teleporting him makes him feel a little uneasy, especially when he thinks of what an angel's touch usually does. But this is Cas — Castiel. He has to believe in him. He has to think it won't always just be angels slapping him around cosmically. This is an ally. A friend.

He breathes out. The thought of something to research, to sink his teeth into and keep his mind occupied, it's too good to pass up. Even if it means he'll have no choice but collect a modicum of hope. Of faith that there might be something.

(Dangerous, dangerous thinking, Sam.)

Eyes not leaving Castiel's eyes, he nods.]

... Let's see it, then.

[Permission to be moved, if Castiel sees fit.]

[ The space where he once stood stands empty and he's at Sam's side in an instant. There's hardly a moment to register the weight of a hand on his shoulder before his world disappears in a blink of an eye. In the next breath, the sound of wings echo in the background as papers fly in the air, carried on air currents disturbed by their sudden arrival.

His hand drops and Castiel steps away from Sam to pluck two sheets of paper out of the air before they hit the ground. Carefully, he steps in front of a long table where two stacks of old books lay closed, the script in ancient Aramaic. ]

It's not a lot, but the collection is rather impressive.

[ He says by way of explanation as he sets the papers down written by the hand of a scholar that once occupied the bunker. Castiel found them tucked inside one of the ancient tomes and kept them with the rest of the collection. ]

Edited 2021-02-11 03:34 (UTC)

[Sam's flinch is a small one, when Castiel moves from one point to another, and then he feels the hand — and is carried suddenly. When he 'lands' on his feet, the vertigo leaves him swaying for a moment before his equilibrium returns in full and he's steady. Standing taller, his gaze pours over the papers and books scattered on the table.

Like an old light being clicked back on, the distant, exhausted look in his eyes brightens into something more inquisitive. More like his old self, before things went so wrong. He reaches out a tentative hand to pick up one of the books.]

Where did all of this come from?

I don't know. I woke up here. But it's... familiar. There's spells. [ He points to the column of glyphs etched into the stone. ]

From what I've seen so far, this place is warded heavily against demons, monsters, and other supernatural creatures.

[ There's a pleased tone to his words, his mouth slightly quirked up in half a smile at the prospect. He couldn't have done better himself. ]

I've tested the warding and it's strong. [ He turns to Sam. ] It's warded against everything but angels.

[ And therein lay the source of his smile. The library, the warding. Everything pointed to a place of acceptance. He even woke up in a room that seemed to be his, and best of all - ]

There's also a hive of bees in the gun range.

[Sam turns to Cas, listening with rapt attention as he speaks. It almost all sounds too good to be true (it usually is). But if there's even a modicum of comfort to be had, it's in a room where almost nothing dark can come in. Nothing dark can get to you. Maybe he can't protect himself or anyone from Lucifer's dreamwalks, or the way he tries to crawl his way out, but... this is something.

And the spellwork, it's a start.

Snorting at the mention of bees, a trace of humor returns to his eyes.]

What, so people can be stung while they practice shooting?

[ A thoughtful look that soon turns into a frown. ]

No... I doubt they were part of the original layout. They must have gotten in somehow. I think someone was feeding them. I found a few bottles of store-bought honey left open for them.

Are you sure it wasn't just you leaving them honey?

[He says it as a joke, really, but... you know, in a place like this? It's more than possible, he supposes. After a moment, he breathes out, looking a little more eased by the situation.]

... This is good, though. This is better than nothing. If you're okay with it, I, um. I can dig into the literature here. See if there's anything that could help out — [He stops, swallows.] the situation I've got going on here.

[He's not a fan of faith or hope these days.

But he is a fan of something to latch his attention on.]

Edited 2021-03-09 11:22 (UTC)

Why would I leave them honey? [ Sam. What are you trying to say? His eyes narrow on him as if trying to solve a great mystery but comes out no more the wiser. ] I'm an angel, not a bee-keeper.

[ As if that solves that mystery, Castiel lets him free of his pointed look to step deeper into the library to look over the collection of histories and spells. Picking a leather-bound volume from the pile set before the table, Castiel opens it to look over its context while Sam continues looking up when Sam mentions his 'situation'. ]

You mean the fact that my brother, Lucifer, is currently trying to drive you mad in order to take over your body?

I don't see why you couldn't be both.

[It's good-natured, and not even necessarily a joke. They all needed something around here, to pass the time. To get by, even with everything terrible going on. Why not find things to keep your mind occupied?

But his smile slides into a small frown. He glances down, nodding.]

... Yeah. That's a way to put it.

I imagine you want to talk with him, at some point...? Angel to angel.

[Castiel always seemed prepared to throw up verbal fisticuffs with Lucifer.

All versions, much to Sam's mortification. He can't help but worry about their safety every time, too.]

No.

[ The book shuts with a loud thump and Castiel straightens setting it down. Gone is the easy posture, the soldier back in control. ]

I have nothing to say to Lucifer. He's made his position clear and I won't change mine. As far as I'm concerned we have nothing further to discuss.

[ The last time they spoke, Lucifer tried to sway him to his side. He might have even started making sense up until he made his stance on Sam clear. ]

Sam. [ He steps toward him. ] He won't ever let you go. We'll only be giving him a platform to sow seeds of doubt.

Edited 2021-03-14 04:17 (UTC)

[Sam honestly can't help but look a little relieved to hear it. The idea of people around him talking to the man who had imprisoned him, tormented him for years, ruined his life for his family infighting - it was nice to know Castiel had found his line in the sand, and didn't want anything to do with him.

He won't ever let you go.

Sam nods in agreement where he's leaning against the backside of a chair, growing quiet for a moment.]

... I know.

... Sorry, I, um. I guess I should have more faith in you.

You're one of the only people I've got left, these days.

[ One meeting was enough. Every angel knew Lucifer's story. He fell because he couldn't love humanity, Castiel... that was never his problem. They stood on opposing sides, speaking with him wouldn't change that and he wouldn't put Sam through that ordeal without something to gain.

The look of relief is something difficult to watch. He left him in that cage knowing full well the torture he'd endure. Asking him to interact with that part of his life was not something he was willing to do so easily. Not after abandoning him once before. ]

Considering what's happened to you, I'm surprised you have any left. The angels...

[ He trails off, his mouth closing to a grim line remembering all those times he tried to reason with them, clashed with them. In the beginning, he was no different following orders without question, so willing to defend a faith that kept unraveling with every order handed down to him. ]

I... don't expect you to. I'm as much in the dark as you are Sam.

[ He sets the leather volume back on the stack of books he had yet to read. ]

This is all I can offer. I'm sorry I can't be of more help.

[He shakes his head, eyes closed. There's a flash of pain across his face — it is not from Lucifer, but of raw emotion from terrible, terrible memories. Memories of after he said yes, but — also memories of before.]

To be honest, I really, um. I don't have much left to spare.

... It was bad, Cas. The years after I last saw you and Dean, it — [He sighs, shakes off the worst of it. Selfishly languishing in his misery, in his mistakes and punishments. It's stupid. It doesn't matter; those days can sit with him, only him, as they rightly should.] It doesn't matter now.

What matters is... trying to do something with this... small opportunity I've got.

For whatever its worth.

Deerington Inbox.

cw: suicidal ideation/mention of suicide

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: mention of suicidal thoughts

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)