iwanttowatchyouburn replied to your post: Not much fight in you, I am disappointed~ -She…

When the Vortex lets them go they are in a strange, underground place, walls of old, shoddy concrete surround them, with greenish reside lines from water leaks. There are pipes, steaming from boilers and there is much noise.

He doesn’t pay any attention to where he is, he doesn’t care, his brain not functioning at that level beyond the intense desire to get out of her grip and he twists, turns trying to pull away from her grunting and whimpering from the pain of her holding his arm. It hurts and he wants away.

iwanttowatchyouburn asked:

No, not at all. It simply makes you more interesting.~ -Red glowing orbs narrow- You are a very positive person, a curiosity it is that you spend your time with them. Positivity doesn't quite /match/ their group of characteristics.

Bad things happen to good people. It doesn’t necessarily make them completely negative. [There isn’t even any hesitation, not when it comes to defending the ones she holds dear.] Besides, a little positivity can be good. Opposites attract, don’t they?

And oh—I’m sorry, I’m afraid I find it a little odd that you know so much about them and I, yet I know so very little about you. [Even her own curiosity is beginning to seep through.]

Imprisoned - Day 5

He’s going to die.

Castiel can feel it. It’s an aching terror in his chest. Dean should have found him by now. There was no reason he shouldn’t have done so, absolutely no reason. No amount of excuses could push away the only possible reason there was left for why he hadn’t been found. Dean wasn’t looking for him.

It was an idea he’d been fighting off for days now but there was no other reason Dean couldn’t be here. He was a more than capable hunter, he’d tracked down monsters and Angels and family in far less time than this. Why wasn’t he here?

It was the only reason, the only thing that could possibly explain it. And he wasn’t here. And he wasn’t coming. Because she was right. She’d been right all along.

Nobody cared about him, nobody cared whether he lived or died in all the Realms of existence. Not God, not the Angels…..not Dean.

Because honestly what could he offer Dean. Worry and stress when he strains himself. A liability in hunts. The only time he’d been on a hunt with the hunter, he’d died and Dean had sold himself to Hell to save him. He had condemned him and broken him. Defeated him and pushed him down at every turn. Whenever it seemed Dean was getting better he’d only ever dragged him back and made it worse. Made everything worse.

And now he knew that Dean saw it. Saw what everyone else in existence saw. That he was useless and pointless and beyond raising Dean from Hell he had never done the world or its inhabitants any ounce of good.

Michael shouldn’t have swayed Heaven’s judgement that hung over him. Castiel should have died then and so many things would have gone right. Maybe Dean would have his brother. Maybe the Apocalypse would never have happened. Maybe…

But he hadn’t. He had managed to make everything go wrong. It had turned his family against him, it had turned his friends against him and now, as he stared at the plug that was still burning in the bottle slowly drawing closer and closer to his death, he realized it had turned Dean, the only person in the world who really mattered, against him.

The only thing he regretted as the hour got later and later, was that he was leaving Dean alone.

But now he knew.

She was right.

No one was coming for him.

iwanttowatchyouburn asked:

-Lakita tilts her head and searches, spotting the heat amidst the dank trees easily then flips back the tops of one of her fingers. They are not close to her radioactive core, so they do not melt, thus the needle inside stays intact, though still hot enough to burn. She dips her hand into a puddle passing by to cool it, before she darts, running to catch up with the Time Lady.- Can't, run, can't hide. -She says, before she whisks her hand and flings the sedative-filled dart at Giselle.-

[It’s quick and a little painful, almost like a bee sting. She thought she was fast enough to get away up until she felt the pain in between her shoulders. All she can think about is how fast her hearts are pumping and how quickly her blood is moving. She feels the sedative sink in, fighting the tiredness as it spreads to every corner of her body. She’s only slightly aware of how much she’s stumbling, and she attempts to keep moving long after tripping over a tree root. Her eyes flutter, but she’s able to keep them open long enough to sense that Lakita is moving closer. I’m so sorry is the last thought she has before everything goes dark.]

Imprisoned - Day 3

The first half of the day was spent in restless shifting, moving around, wincing and aching and moving and flinching and the beginnings of panic.

Five days she’d said and there was only just over half of his time left. Dean was coming, of this he was sure, but there had to be something he could do to help. There had to be.

As he paced he planned. Clearly he wasn’t supposed to reach the table. Trying to do that now was going to be pointless. Wasting time which he was running out of. What else was there? His eyes fell to his leash.

A couple of hours is what he spent examining the chain. He was beginning to feel shaky with hunger and slight fatigue and frankly he didn’t have the time and energy to waste. He needed to find the weakest chain and exploit it, tear this thing and break himself free so he could put out that bottle.

About the same was spent trying to pull free. It would have been longer but the chain slipped from his grasp and he landed on one of his wings, crying out in the agony before going very still.

He’s laid there for hours, staring at the food container. He’s hungry. He needs food being partly human and he hasn’t eaten in days now. But he doesn’t trust what she left him. It could be drugged or poisoned. But he has two days left and he’s hungry, his stomach aches and growls and he needs food.

There’s…..there’s time.

Not much but there is

Two days



Where are you?

Imprisoned - Day 1

Cas didn’t even need to reach the bottle, just knock the table and get the bottle off the top, grab it and put the flame out. Then it would just be a case of having to wait it out until Dean could get here, no sword hanging over the half-Angel and no deadline but every time he managed to get close enough his makeshift leash would pull against his neck and his broken wings would spark and ache and he would yell out in agony.

He wasn’t afraid of being heard by her. He knew this was as much a test for him as it was for Dean and she was clever, there was no way she would leave him here like this and not expect him to try to free himself. Just as there was no way he could possibly break free, but he had to try.

So Castiel tried, anybody would, and he didn’t succeed, giving up after about seven hours, coming to lie on his back his wings laid out jaggedly beside him unmoving while he stared at the ceiling.

There was a tingling in the base of his stomach but he wouldn’t call it fear, he was still captured and in near agony most of the time but there was still time for him to be found.

There were four days left.

iwanttowatchyouburn asked:

Not much fight in you, I am disappointed~ -She suddenly grabs him by the shoulder, letting her molten skin seep into the clothing and skin. She holds the device up and at that point it becomes apparent that it's some makeshift version of a Vortex Manipulator. She presses the button just as she speaks- That's alright, though, not all pets are born feisty.

*he can’t help but scream as she grabs him, the heat, the burning scorching through to and beyond his skin and he tries to pull away but then everything lurches and they’re not in the house anymore. He feels ready to throw up, his head already aching and his shoulder in agony*

iwanttowatchyouburn asked:

That's not going to work, little girl. -Comes the singsong remark as Lakita spies the Time Lady entering the treeline.- You may not be human, but you still give off heat. Heat is my specialty. -A high pitched squeak comes from her, excitement, and she twitches slightly.- Heat. Fire. Burning. Chaos. You are the golden ticket. With you gone they will all burn~ - She enters the trees, head tilting, and she turns towards Giselle.- ~Everything Burns~

[Giselle’s stopped listening to Lakita, certain that her words would only be more threatening and twisted from this point on. So instead she tunes her out and focuses on her own breathing, trying to keep track of where she is in relation to the thing actively chasing her. The monster is right, unfortunately—the more she runs, the more heat she produces. Giselle isn’t growing tired just yet, but with every step, she’s turning more and more into a target with flashing lights pointing toward it.]

iwanttowatchyouburn asked:

-There's a mechanically-generated chuckle, but before she gives chase, the creature steps out of the house and crushes the fuse box. She digs her fingers into it, and her eyes glow brighter. Every light in the house begins to brighten, there's a high-pitched whirring noise, then the sound of bulbs shattering. Only after she confirms the sounds of the child screaming does Lakita follow, cackling as she dashes across the yard.-

[Hesitation is something that isn’t acceptable in a situation such as this, but when she hears the searing noise in her ears, it forces her to glance back for a few precious moments. She watches, somewhat horrified, as the electricity gives out and Mary starts to cry. She forces herself to move then, to abandon the home and hopefully conceal herself between the thickening trees.]

iwanttowatchyouburn asked:

In the magnetic sense, yes, they do. However, I have found that sentient beings tend to search out those that are similar to them in nature for one reason or another. -She lowers her head slightly, but somehow the way she does it only makes her gesture look proud- I observe you, I have been observing, and I have met other members of your group before. And you are right, it seems. 'Good', being you in this equation, and the /child/ have brought some sort of stability. However, good also has an -c

-c an unintended consequence: It lowers the tolerance level of the affects of unfortunate circumstance. Therefore, introducing good, then taking it away, is actually a more efficient means of achieving greater chaos. Now the question is: Is take away all that hope at once, or to take it one at a time? I favor a multi-stepped process, and of course, it’s less fun if you don’t get your hands dirty, if they don’t come for you. So I must make them mad. But I must also make them sloppy.

The Elder Winchester becomes very sloppy when angered. What will anger him and the others to the point of being sloppy but not necessarily unable to still be clever? A slight mishandling of the child. Ah! Yes. I shall take you as my own and I shall leave the child defenseless here. -And as if this logic has suddenly become the most simple thing in the world, suddenly she moves swiftly, lashing out at Giselle with her razor claws- 

[Her hearts are pounding at this point, leaving her to wonder why things had turned sour so quickly. In the future she would be able to pinpoint the exact moment her gut began churning, but for now everything seemed to just blur together. Giselle’s starting to drown in her own thoughts and feelings, and only a few things begin to surface. Anger is the first, and it flashes in her eyes. How…how dare she. In a way Giselle feels as though she’s motherly to all of them; being there when times are tough, always putting on a smile. The same sort of reaction could be seen in that of a bear and her cubs.

As Giselle listens, she grows more frightened. Her jaw clenches in a hasty attempt to hide that fear, and suddenly her mind is racing like it never has before. Don’tyoudarelayahandonMary. They’regoingtobesodissappointedinme. WhatifIcan’tprotecther. Ohgod. DeanI’msorry. I’msosorry.

If the Time Lady allowed this thing to take her, there was no telling what she was going to do. At this point her own safety isn’t even a concern, and she thinks about the baby upstairs as her eyes trace the ceiling. Only one thought remains by the time all of this is done — I’ve got to get her out of the house.

Fortunately Giselle’s reflexes are quick, and she’s able to avoid the monster without sustaining any sort of major injury. There’s a stinging feeling in her back as she dashes for the door leading to the backyard. Giselle’s going to give a chase and lead that thing away from the home, away from Mary.]

anonymous asked:

(7) "After that, why don't you show our new pet all the commands I taught you." //She// Purrs, and leaves. And Dean continues, brushing out feathers, until the wings are completely gone. And when he's done, he picks up the knife. All without a word. -End-

He can’t stop shaking, can’t think, can’t speak, can’t breathe. This is his fault. He brought this onto Dean. After all the hunter had done for him. After everything and now… It’s him. It’s all him. Everything that’s gone wrong from their first meeting to this was all on him. He’d destroyed the only one in this world who cared about him. She’d taken him and now…now…

As he saw the knife edge closer to him he turned his mind to himself. No wings, no friends, no virtue. No strength, nothing. Just a creature of nothing. A nothing who destroyed everything. Absolutely nothing.

Let the knife cut him. Let Dean tear him down. Let the hunter get his revenge, even if he didn’t want or need it. It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter.

I’m sorry Dean.

I’m sorry.

He can’t stop shaking

anonymous asked:

(6) "I thought you would at least keep yourself in good shape for you master. Human, Why don't you groom these feathers for me?"Dean hesitates, but she turns her head to him, eyes narrowing. At those eyes, something a little like fear and a lot like submission gleams through his expression. He steps forward, shackled hands brushing feathers. As they do the wings fall away, solid ash breaking off and mixing in with the Holy Oil below.

Dean please


I’m sorry

I’m so so sorry

I can’t

I just


I didn’t mean for this

He’s starting to have trouble breathing, his breath catching in his sleep.

anonymous asked:

(5) She smiles at you, red eyes gleaming. As she steps forward, she places her burning hand to your wings, and the touch spreads like a virus, the weather burning and dissolving into ash and stone. She tilts her head calmly. "My pet, you haven't been taking care of them." And she 'Tsk Tsk Tsk's you.

not my wings


anonymous asked:

(4) From the shadows come two figures. Both of which you recognize, unfortunately. One is //Her//. And the other is Dean. Dean is being lead by chains, he's obviously been through her torture. His skin is marred and burned, his hair is gone in patches, and his mouth....well...his mouth has been sewn shut in crude, misaligned stitches. His eyes are dead.


I’m sorry

Dean please

He’s started crying in his sleep.