annundriel: ([spn] Every Bended Knee)
[personal profile] annundriel
Coda for 7.17. Emmanuel!Cas/Dean
He needs to know.

Emmanuel didn’t dream because he didn’t need to sleep, but there were moments when—awake in the dark, the world quiet around him—he’d have… Well, he’d wonder sometimes if they were visions and know, deep down, that they were memories. The green eyes floating behind his eyelids, looking at him with such faith, such accusation, were part of before, not the invention of his fractured mind. He didn’t know who they belonged to, though, or why they were there, why they left him feeling hollow deep in his chest, like something vital was missing. His fingers would find the delicate skin of his wrist in the dark and he’d check for a pulse, making sure that his heart hadn’t suddenly gone missing.

Sitting in the dark, in the front seat of this stranger’s car—this stranger who feels familiar like déjà vu—Emmanuel surreptitiously folds his hands together in his lap before pressing his fingertips to his wrist. His heart rate is up, faster than usual, and Emmanuel isn’t sure if it’s the ride in the dark with a dangerous man beside him or if it’s the fact that his eyes, Dean’s eyes, and his face and his voice pull at something deep within him. His plea for help had stirred instincts Emmanuel hadn’t known he possessed, more urgent than the need to protect Daphne. It frightened him, deep down.

That’s why he had to go. Not only because Dean needed help, but because something had happened on his front porch that had nothing to do with that demon; Emmanuel needed to know. And Dean needed help.

So he sits in the dark, counting the beats of his heart, the steady thrum somehow in time with the susurration of wheels on asphalt, somehow in tune with the universe. He glances across the front seat at Dean, his mouth a thin, set line, his eyes straight forward, and there is something…there is… Something is missing here, Emmanuel can feel it, but his hands are too full of his own beating heart for him to put his finger on it. Dean holds an answer to his past. It’s apparent in the way Dean looks at him, gaze lingering in the dim light of the car. His glass-green eyes wouldn’t grab at Emmanuel so strongly, so completely if he didn’t know something, if their lives hadn’t been connected in some way, at some time. They wouldn’t dredge up those feelings that fill his sleepless nights, the ones that whisper something’s wrong with every thump of his forgetful heart.

Cas. There was a man named Cas and he hurt Dean and Emmanuel has no idea why his pulse jumps at that name. It’s unusual—as unusual as his own newly given one—but it’s also familiar. Dean imbues the single syllable with such feeling, such meaning for so few letters, and Emmanuel knows that there is more to their relationship than what was on the surface. Feelings must run like veins of gold in a mine, threading themselves through bedrock, rooting deep for the hurt to be that complete.

Dean says that name and Emmanuel stares out the window, watches the painted yellow lines down the center of the road appear in the headlights only to disappear again in the dark. How far Cas must have fallen to put them both where they are now, Dean unable to shake off whatever Cas did, unable to forgive, and Emmanuel in the dark, trusted to pick up the pieces. There’s a hurt here that Emmanuel wishes he could reach out and smooth away, but he can’t. Something stays his hands, keeps them tucked together in the dark on his own side of the car, his pulse tripping.

Emmanuel’s heart beats and, in the long silences that fall between them, he thinks he can hear Dean’s heart struggling to catch up.
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annundriel: (Default)

February 2013


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