[Fic] The Angel of Thursday
Oct. 4th, 2008 08:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeTitle: The Angel of Thursday Part 1: All Bets Are Off
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Ruby/Castiel
Word Count: 1,278+
Rating: PG
Summary: Entirely a justification for one of the most unlikely pairings ever.
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4
He stopped by the hotel room after the boys had left, before the cleaning crew was there, not that it would have mattered. Borrowed hands in the pockets of his borrowed coat. Staring down at the still-rumpled beds. There were so many things he hadn't told Dean, few of them relevant.
Castiel, angel of the Lord, was one of the younger angels in the so-called heavenly choirs. He was selected for this position not because he was a messenger angel or because he had particular skills with mortals, but because it was thought that he could communicate best with a mortal who was significant for the sacrifices he had made. He had not walked among men for any length of time even when angels did such things, and never on his own. He had accepted his assignment without question or uncertainty, had done everything asked of him and now patiently waited to be told the next step. He had visited the hotel room to see what the boys left behind, to learn more about the two mortals he had been charged to watch.
And now that he was here he was beginning to have doubts, something that an angel tasked by his Lord could not tolerate within himself.
"Some angel you are," the woman's voice came from the doorway, and he didn't jump. But he did turn his head, slowly and a complete quarter turn over his shoulder, to stare at her. "I thought you'd be all wings and sword, smite first and ask questions later."
He recognized her as soon as he had turned his head and, yes, he did have a brief idea of striking her down where she stood. But that was not in his specific mandate, for all that it was given to angels to strike down evil if they found it in the course of their duties. That was still left up to their discretion. His discretion, at the moment, was not to strike her until she caused harm or until he had heard and judged what she had to say.
"Why are you here?"
Her eyebrows arched at that, arms folded under her breasts. "I'm doing the same thing you're doing, I guess. Dispensing invaluable advice."
He gave her a look that suggested while he did not employ sarcasm often he did understand it, and it was not appreciated. She didn't step back but she disengaged, looking away, letting the silence draw out between them until it tempered the words. It also gave him time to form at least some way of approaching her.
"You've been speaking with Sam."
"Bra-vo..."
That was the wrong answer. Or the beginning of one. The lights flickered and one bulb popped in a shower of exploding glass shards and angelic irritation. There was a rustle of beating feathers and Ruby's eyes went black.
"What do you want?" It was sort of the same as why are you here, only one question earlier. He was losing patience.
"Why are you here?" she retorted, arms folded again in case she had to defend herself from breaking light fixtures, since she couldn't really defend herself against anything worse. Her eyes blinked rapidly for a moment, then subsided. "Shouldn't you be off hovering over Dean for when he gets himself into trouble again?"
The corners of his lips twitched in what passed for a smile for him but wasn't really. Why were people so fascinated with that image? "When he's ready, I'll go to him." From the look on her face that either hadn't been what she'd expected or she was hearing something other than what he intended. It didn't bother him much.
"You people really don't do straight-forward, do you?"
Rather than answer that: "What. Do you want."
Ruby opened her mouth to answer that but didn't seem to be able to come up with an answer that didn't involve sarcasm or dodging the truth, or whatever else it was that she thought he didn't want to hear. She had to look away, finally, to tell him. "You broke Dean out of Hell. I wanted to get a good look at you." That wasn't everything, of course. But it seemed to be as much truth as she felt capable of saying at one time. At least, it seemed to be the truth. She was a demon. They were not known for their honesty and openness. Angels, at least, contented themselves with obscure veracity.
(Although after Dean's display of temper and then deep hurt, Castiel wondered for a moment if that was really any better.)
"Why." His tone, even and level as it (almost) always was, made no question of the question word. Ruby didn't seem to have anything to say to that, either. She just turned back and stared at him as though she didn't understand the question, at least in this context. It might have been something as simple as wanting to spy out the enemy, but then she moved up to him with a purpose in her stride, three steps to close, and her expression changed to one of having words on her lips.
He should have taken the opportunity to step back, but he didn't.
Hubris? Overconfidence or angelic arrogance? Or simply the awareness that they were most likely evenly matched, and stepping back would only result in her stepping forward and would accomplish nothing. They could circle around each other or smash all the furniture in the room to pieces with fighting and it would accomplish nothing. They were in stalemate, and had been for some time now.
"I don't know," Ruby said, looking off to the side. Her dark hair fell over the side of her face, obscuring his view and whatever chance he might have had at reading her face. "Pride?" That echoed. "Curiosity. Sheer dumb stubbornness." She laughed, tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling with a wide-eyed and blank expression on her face. "Maybe I have a death wish."
His head canted to one side. "Why would you say that?"
"Oh, come on. Don't pull that act with me, you..." But whatever it was she saw in his face stopped her words in her mouth, made her lips shape further noises without giving them breath to sound them out and finally turned her to look away again. He wasn't sure what it was. She had been a good person, once. She was a creature of hell but once, she had been human.
They stood there, awkwardness and empty space between them big enough to encompass all the host of heaven and all the hordes of hell between the molecules of their borrowed bodies. He turned his palm up to her, arm still relaxed against his body, no extending towards her but it was a gesture of peace if she would take it. "I have no inclination to do you harm," he told her. "As long as you behave yourself." Or until orders came down to the contrary, but she had to know that was a possibility. Her eyes flicked from his open hand to his face.
"A truce?" Ruby didn't seem too inclined to believe him, but at least she wasn't threatening him either. It was progress. (Towards what? He was not here to make agreements with demons.)
"A truce."
Her hand inched forward, and then again, and then she shook his hand with a nod. Her palm was hot against his, her hand slender and fingers steady despite the uncertainty she radiated in every other aspect. "All right. Just till we both leave the hotel. After that," her borrowed head tossed her borrowed hair back. "All bets are off."
Again that very faint crinkling of eyes and turning of lips that passed for a smile with the angel. "After that, all bets are off," he agreed.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Ruby/Castiel
Word Count: 1,278+
Rating: PG
Summary: Entirely a justification for one of the most unlikely pairings ever.
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4
He stopped by the hotel room after the boys had left, before the cleaning crew was there, not that it would have mattered. Borrowed hands in the pockets of his borrowed coat. Staring down at the still-rumpled beds. There were so many things he hadn't told Dean, few of them relevant.
Castiel, angel of the Lord, was one of the younger angels in the so-called heavenly choirs. He was selected for this position not because he was a messenger angel or because he had particular skills with mortals, but because it was thought that he could communicate best with a mortal who was significant for the sacrifices he had made. He had not walked among men for any length of time even when angels did such things, and never on his own. He had accepted his assignment without question or uncertainty, had done everything asked of him and now patiently waited to be told the next step. He had visited the hotel room to see what the boys left behind, to learn more about the two mortals he had been charged to watch.
And now that he was here he was beginning to have doubts, something that an angel tasked by his Lord could not tolerate within himself.
"Some angel you are," the woman's voice came from the doorway, and he didn't jump. But he did turn his head, slowly and a complete quarter turn over his shoulder, to stare at her. "I thought you'd be all wings and sword, smite first and ask questions later."
He recognized her as soon as he had turned his head and, yes, he did have a brief idea of striking her down where she stood. But that was not in his specific mandate, for all that it was given to angels to strike down evil if they found it in the course of their duties. That was still left up to their discretion. His discretion, at the moment, was not to strike her until she caused harm or until he had heard and judged what she had to say.
"Why are you here?"
Her eyebrows arched at that, arms folded under her breasts. "I'm doing the same thing you're doing, I guess. Dispensing invaluable advice."
He gave her a look that suggested while he did not employ sarcasm often he did understand it, and it was not appreciated. She didn't step back but she disengaged, looking away, letting the silence draw out between them until it tempered the words. It also gave him time to form at least some way of approaching her.
"You've been speaking with Sam."
"Bra-vo..."
That was the wrong answer. Or the beginning of one. The lights flickered and one bulb popped in a shower of exploding glass shards and angelic irritation. There was a rustle of beating feathers and Ruby's eyes went black.
"What do you want?" It was sort of the same as why are you here, only one question earlier. He was losing patience.
"Why are you here?" she retorted, arms folded again in case she had to defend herself from breaking light fixtures, since she couldn't really defend herself against anything worse. Her eyes blinked rapidly for a moment, then subsided. "Shouldn't you be off hovering over Dean for when he gets himself into trouble again?"
The corners of his lips twitched in what passed for a smile for him but wasn't really. Why were people so fascinated with that image? "When he's ready, I'll go to him." From the look on her face that either hadn't been what she'd expected or she was hearing something other than what he intended. It didn't bother him much.
"You people really don't do straight-forward, do you?"
Rather than answer that: "What. Do you want."
Ruby opened her mouth to answer that but didn't seem to be able to come up with an answer that didn't involve sarcasm or dodging the truth, or whatever else it was that she thought he didn't want to hear. She had to look away, finally, to tell him. "You broke Dean out of Hell. I wanted to get a good look at you." That wasn't everything, of course. But it seemed to be as much truth as she felt capable of saying at one time. At least, it seemed to be the truth. She was a demon. They were not known for their honesty and openness. Angels, at least, contented themselves with obscure veracity.
(Although after Dean's display of temper and then deep hurt, Castiel wondered for a moment if that was really any better.)
"Why." His tone, even and level as it (almost) always was, made no question of the question word. Ruby didn't seem to have anything to say to that, either. She just turned back and stared at him as though she didn't understand the question, at least in this context. It might have been something as simple as wanting to spy out the enemy, but then she moved up to him with a purpose in her stride, three steps to close, and her expression changed to one of having words on her lips.
He should have taken the opportunity to step back, but he didn't.
Hubris? Overconfidence or angelic arrogance? Or simply the awareness that they were most likely evenly matched, and stepping back would only result in her stepping forward and would accomplish nothing. They could circle around each other or smash all the furniture in the room to pieces with fighting and it would accomplish nothing. They were in stalemate, and had been for some time now.
"I don't know," Ruby said, looking off to the side. Her dark hair fell over the side of her face, obscuring his view and whatever chance he might have had at reading her face. "Pride?" That echoed. "Curiosity. Sheer dumb stubbornness." She laughed, tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling with a wide-eyed and blank expression on her face. "Maybe I have a death wish."
His head canted to one side. "Why would you say that?"
"Oh, come on. Don't pull that act with me, you..." But whatever it was she saw in his face stopped her words in her mouth, made her lips shape further noises without giving them breath to sound them out and finally turned her to look away again. He wasn't sure what it was. She had been a good person, once. She was a creature of hell but once, she had been human.
They stood there, awkwardness and empty space between them big enough to encompass all the host of heaven and all the hordes of hell between the molecules of their borrowed bodies. He turned his palm up to her, arm still relaxed against his body, no extending towards her but it was a gesture of peace if she would take it. "I have no inclination to do you harm," he told her. "As long as you behave yourself." Or until orders came down to the contrary, but she had to know that was a possibility. Her eyes flicked from his open hand to his face.
"A truce?" Ruby didn't seem too inclined to believe him, but at least she wasn't threatening him either. It was progress. (Towards what? He was not here to make agreements with demons.)
"A truce."
Her hand inched forward, and then again, and then she shook his hand with a nod. Her palm was hot against his, her hand slender and fingers steady despite the uncertainty she radiated in every other aspect. "All right. Just till we both leave the hotel. After that," her borrowed head tossed her borrowed hair back. "All bets are off."
Again that very faint crinkling of eyes and turning of lips that passed for a smile with the angel. "After that, all bets are off," he agreed.