Это прекрасно. Нет, серьезно.
Castiel isn’t a Winchester by blood but Bobby knows sometimes it isn’t as simple as blood. Being a Winchester simply means going bug fuck crazy whenever something or someone is threatening to end someone you love. The worst part is it’s fucking contagious in every possible way; it’s genetic, airborne, transmitted by touch, by sound, by sight, by smell, by simple proximity. Bobby is pretty sure all the exposure over the years has gotten him a barely manageable couple of cases of it himself.
Bobby knows this story better than anyone. It’s straight out of the Winchester handbook and classic enough that he can recite all the steps backwards, forwards, sideways and upside down. He can hear it and see it coming and have it hit him in the chest or in the back or in the kidneys and still, somehow, let it slide right off of him over and over and over again.
The Winchesters have a way of doing things that end in their worlds narrowing down into a single point. They’re like charging horses with blinders on or enraged bulls with lowered heads, stampeding right towards the sharp-dressed man waving a bright red cloth at them, neither of them realizing there’s something sharp and deadly waiting on the other side. For Winchesters, the center of the world—that single, narrow point— is always family. From there, the sharp and deadly things be damned.
Castiel isn’t a Winchester by blood but Bobby knows sometimes it isn’t as simple as blood. Being a Winchester simply means going bug fuck crazy whenever something or someone is threatening to end someone you love. The worst part is it’s fucking contagious in every possible way; it’s genetic, airborne, transmitted by touch, by sound, by sight, by smell, by simple proximity. Bobby is pretty sure all the exposure over the years has gotten him a barely manageable couple of cases of it himself.
In John’s case it had been all about Mary; the idiot had leapt straight into the deep end without a backwards look after her death, had dragged two scared little boys who’d just lost their mother in with him and never let himself regret it for more than a minute at a time. By the time he’d finally realized what was really important—what he’d still had— he’d had to sell his soul to a demon to keep it safe. He went to Hell.
With Dean it’s always been Sam; he makes all the hard choices so Sam doesn’t have to. He does the dirty work, carries the heaviest burdens, kills himself over and over again to keep Sam’s head above water. Being told since he’d been four that his life would never be as important as Sam’s had ended with him selling his soul to a demon to keep Sam alive. He’d gone to Hell.
With Sam it’s Dean, and because Sam is the smart one, because he’s always believed he knows better than anyone else, he tells himself he’s going to save the world, he’s going to do whatever it takes to keep his brother safe even if it means defying him, betraying his trust, choosing a demon. Sam sold his soul in a different way than his daddy and his big brother, but it led to all the same things in the end, led to the apocalypse and doing whatever it took to keep Dean alive, to keep from saying yes to Michael at the expense of paradise. And Sam went to Hell.
Castiel’s story isn’t any different than John and Mary’s or Dean and Sam’s or Sam and Dean’s. It doesn’t sound to Bobby like an exciting new twist on the shit storm that is their lives so much as a digitally remastered remake cut together with fancier effects but still the same footage. From the moment he’d met Dean, Castiel’s entire world had been pulled into the boy’s orbit. He’d gotten bitten by the Winchester bug and in angels it must have mutated into something vast and incomprehensible, because after an eternity serving loyally and not asking any questions, one measly year with Dean Winchester bugging the crap out of him is all it takes for Castiel to say fuck everything, he’s picking Dean and Sam over the universe. His big brothers threaten to end the world after that—a world with Dean and Sam in it—and the angel gets blown up protecting the boys like any other member of the family. Bobby isn’t sure if Cas went to Hell afterwards exactly, but there’s an angel equivalent, he’s sure, and the poor guy must have spent some time there, getting his official Winchester Club members’ card in the meantime. After that, when Cas comes back—because they always come back— he does everything in his power to keep Sam and Dean alive and whole and themselves despite the fact it’s slowly destroying him from the inside out. In the end, he goes ahead and gets blown up again for his troubles.
Then more dick brothers come along wanting to destroy the Earth, and by this time, Cas’s world has narrowed to that dangerous point that means Winchesters go nuts and make crazy demon deals to keep one another safe, even if it means resentment and trust issues and possible apocalypses in the aftermath.
Now he’s stewing in a Hell of his own making.За фиком сюдыть
The Law of Conservation of Energy
@темы:
supernatural,
recs - in english,
фикшн