heraldingangel | Inbox for deerington

[ Well that simplifies things. Hopefully. ]

He's hurt pretty bad. Nothing touched him, he just used his grace, I guess, and he collapsed right in front of me.

I don't know what I should do. Will he heal on his own?

[ Maybe Cas doesn't know either, but he had to ask. ]

[ Instead of continuing on a device he's yet to master, Castiel draws his wings open and appears behind Sam with a gust of wind to announce his arrival. His wings are carefully tucked away in another dimension, invisible to the human eye. ]

Where is he?

[ Sam's in the kitchen, pacing as he waits for some kind of response on the screen, and while he's not really used to angels suddenly dropping in on him, as much as that's been happening lately, he's too distracted to do much except to stop short before he walks right into Castiel. His clothes are bloody in several spots, some of it his own, and his jeans are torn, but that's also pretty low on his list of priorities right now. If he was in pain before, he's not feeling it now.

On the other hand, he's between Cas and the front room where Jack is and there's a flicker of hesitation. He doesn't know the angel as well as Jack does, as well as his older self apparently does, but the fact that Jack has gotten as close to him as he has to him and Dean counts for something. He just hopes he won't regret this later. ]

Can you help him? I think... I think he'll bounce back, but I'm worried he's not strong enough to hold out that long.

[ That's the impression he's gotten from talking to Jack, anyway. ]

[ If he catches his hesitation, he doesn't say anything about it, instead his eyes flick past Sam to where he can feel the other celestial being. ]

I don't know. I've never dealt with a Nephilim before. They're supposed to be myths.

[ It's not a great selling point but it's the truth. ]

I can check him and try to heal him.

[ It's as good an answer as Sam's going to get. He might have a few mixed feelings about Cas, but most of those are associated with the angel that he remembers from home, who doesn't seem to know exactly where he wants to stand yet. It's not really fair to hold that against him here, where he's just doing his best like the rest of them. He seems to want to make things right, despite having had what was apparently a pretty prickly conversation with Dean. That's a problem for another day.

Plus he's a pretty bad liar. It's hard to imagine that this is anything but sincere. ]

Alright. Just be careful, okay?

[ He turns and leads the way back into the front room, where he's settled Jack onto the couch. And he definitely wasn't exaggerating when he said Jack was in bad shape - he's pale and bloody, and Sam's expression twists into a deeper frown as he faces it again. ]

Jack? Cas is here.

[ since sam carrying him back inside from the street, jack's been laid out on the same couch in the living room/research den, now with maybe a blanket, pillow and glass of water added, but still looking about the same. which is: pale, blood dried on his lips and the front of his shirt, coloring the lines in his hand where he'd tried to hide it before it was just too much. he doesn't hear cas when he first gets in, or the short talk the two have in the kitchen, but it's when sam comes pacing back over, familiar voice seeping in, that jack opens his eyes, with dark bags under them, glancing around and behind him, trying weakly to get a view of the other. ]

Castiel?

[ he wasn't expecting him to come. he'd wanted him there, of course, he wants all of them there when he's feeling ill like any kid wants their parents around when they're hurting and scared. they just hadn't had a terribly friendly time at the circus and jack wasn't sure where they stood. he knows he's probably here because sam asked, but the fact he's here at all is a comfort.

still, much as he wants them around, he hates feeling like a burden to them. they have so much going on in their lives already, they don't need to take care of some kid too.]

Oh. You didn't have to come. It'll probably just— [ jack's saying as he's trying to push himself up to sit, interrupted halfway through with another fit of coughs, and eventually giving up to flop back down on his back. ] It'll probably go away eventually.

[ Castiel steps into the room to evaluate the Nephilim when the boy starts coughing haphazardly. He's still, blue eyes distantly watchful as the coughing fit comes to an end. When it's over he turns to Sam - ]

I need you to stand 12 feet back.

[ Sam's standing close, frowning with worry as he watches Cas, and Jack's face for anything that might suggest this is a bad idea. He hadn't been given much of a chance to ask about how things were between Jack and the angel these days, since he was hard to pin down and Dean didn't want to talk to him. ]

Probably. That's not exactly reassuring, Jack.

[ He knows that Jack doesn't want to be a burden. He's always the first to ask if anyone needs help, the first to volunteer to do anything around the house, and he does plenty without being asked at all. He's just trying really hard, and Sam's definitely noticed. He understands it too, at least part of it.

The request has him arching an eyebrow, glancing at Jack and then back to Cas. ]

Why?

Well. [ there's an apologetic wince here. ] I don't know, exactly.

[ and he didn't want to say for sure, because that's lying, but he doesn't want you to be concerned, so he's just presenting reasonable assumptions?? he's sorry.

castiel steps in and jack's eyes and attention go to him, blinking wide and owlish and a little apprehensive at the angel. ]

What're we doing?

Because his injuries may transfer to you can if you stand any closer while I heal him.

[ He answers without turning his eyes away from Jack. ]

I’m going to heal you.

[ He steps forward, mindful of Sam and only leans down to touch Jack’s temple in order to heal him when Sam has moved away from his transfer range. ]

[ Sam's not sure he's got a great feeling about healing that can potentially lash out at someone who happens to be standing too close, and when he saw Jack try to heal himself before that hadn't worked out too well, but right now? He'll take whatever he can get. So he cooperatively takes a few paces back until he's standing between the kitchen and the front room, arms crossed and frowning as he watches them. ]

Just... be careful, okay?

[ Careful for Jack, but for Cas too. Sam might have some mixed feelings about the angel, but he does like him when he's not blindly following Uriel, and he knows how important he is to Jack.

Even if he hasn't exactly taken to that connection. They'll work through it. ]

[ another fit of coughs hits jack, playing the background noise for sam and castiel's conversation, and when he straightens up, it's only after having to gasp for air, voice weak when he tries to use it. ]

Will that work?

[ rasped and hoarse, but he's looking over the edge of the couch towards sam, features pale and sickly and worried. injuries transferring? no, neither of this can take this off him, it'll kill sam, and castiel's only a seraph-

but cas's fingertips are already at his temples and jack doesn't have it in him to argue, barely managing to make his lungs operate well enough to breathe. he's trusted them with everything this far, he'll trust them with this too. ]

[ The moment he touches his temple, something is off kilter. He doesn't recognize it at first but he knows immediately something is wrong. His grace was - it was like coming up to a great waterfall and finding only a trickle of water flowing over.

Somehow, his grace was dangerously low and the balancing act it played with his soul had become inherently unstable it was on the verge of collapse. No wonder he was sick!

His soul was heading toward a chain reaction that once started would be impossible to stop! If nothing changed then --

He holds on for too long and the touches a trickle of that overflowing power that instantly flares at the intrusion and throws him out sending him across the room .

He hits the wall and crumples to the floor. Blood spills from his mouth as he struggles to his knees. He can feel the burn of that soul seared across his grace, and that was just an iota of the power that was burning through its core, cannibalizing itself before it went supernova. ]

Jack.

[ He drags the name through the gravel, as he struggles to his feet. ]

Your grace. It-It's gone.

Edited 2019-08-19 07:36 (UTC)

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