SPN Fic: Catalyst (PG)
Mar. 26th, 2012 04:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielCatalyst
PG
645
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.
PG
645
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.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2012-03-26 11:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-08 06:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-03-26 11:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-10 04:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-03-27 12:38 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-10 05:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-03-27 01:06 am (UTC)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. Dammit, crying here AGAIN! Will it never end? Your stories always make me feel so much.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-10 05:12 am (UTC)I'm sorry I made you cry, but I'm also very pleased you liked it and that it worked for you. Thank you.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-03-27 08:42 am (UTC)Beautiful. I love the last line as well. I could basically read reams about Emmanuel; I'm fascinated by the idea of the amnesiac personality developing as something similar to, but somehow removed from, the poor broken guilty person Cas had become.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-10 06:06 am (UTC)Thank you so much, bb. I'm so happy that you enjoyed it. <3
(no subject)
Date: 2012-03-27 11:00 am (UTC)I love the way you write, there's so much feeling here that happens in so short a space of time, so much beautiful imagery.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-10 06:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-03-27 11:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-03-27 03:27 pm (UTC)Basically that's it. *worships you a little*
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-10 06:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-03-27 05:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-10 06:16 am (UTC)I'm so happy you liked this. Thank you.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-03-28 10:06 am (UTC)Your use of descriptive language in this is to die for, and I want your eye for metaphor so much. "thrum" and "susurration" together and the sound is in my head, echoing through the words like a background track. And feelings like veins of gold in a mine, bringing together something precious and something physical (veins in a single phrase... these are things to die for, they are so beautiful.
You've outdone yourself. Absolutely beautiful.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-04 02:02 pm (UTC)"thrum" and "susurration" together and the sound is in my head, echoing through the words like a background track.
I love that you said this because now I'm sitting here remembering it all and what it's like to sit in a car in the dark, mile posts passing, nothing but the sound of the road around you. ("susurration" is one of my favorite words to use, hee.)
Again, thank you so much, bb. I'm so happy that you liked it. <3
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-02 02:53 am (UTC)There was a man named Cas
Something about this really got to me. I think it's the construction of the beginning of this sentence, but A Man Named Cas is pinging in my brain, over and over. And I can see Dean thinking of him that way, too--There was a man named Cas, as if that's the start to his story, and the end of it too.
Beautiful job, bb. As always.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-06 11:36 pm (UTC)This breaks my heart. Because that's the long and short of it, isn't it? There was a man named Cas, and with him came the beginning and the end and so many unexpected things in between.
Thank you, bb. I'm so happy that you liked it.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-03 03:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-06 11:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-04-03 06:44 pm (UTC)<333
(no subject)
Date: 2012-05-06 11:39 pm (UTC)So happy that you liked it. Thank you.