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blue_bells» Title: The Littlest Hunter (1/7)
» Fandom: Supernatural
» Warnings: De-ageing!
» Pairing(s)/Characters: wee!Castiel, John Winchester
» Summary: As punishment for disobeying, Castiel is sent back in time in the form of a young child - only to be unofficially adopted by John Winchester.
» A/N: Written here for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
merry_gentry in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic.
When John crashes through the doors of the old barn, rifle cocked, he's almost blinded instantly.
When he puts his arm down, John sees at least four dispossessed bodies prone in the straw. They're still twitching and John tucks the rifle against his shoulder, but that's when he sees the young boy trembling by one of the wooden support beams.
"Hey," John calls, cautious, and the boy's head snaps up.
The boy's dirt-smeared face is shining with tears in the light of John's flashlight, his dark hair sticking up everywhere and when he tries to shield his eyes from the light, John sees the blood on his palms.
He can't be more than five years old.
"Desist, demon! I'm Castiel, an angel of the Lord, and I'll smite you as well!" The child shrieks, voice cracking in defiance, and he clambers for the wooden beam behind him. John sees him reach for the bloody sigil painted there and takes aim.
This thing may be wearing a child's face, but John's no fool.
His first shot disintegrates the sigil, spraying wood and the child cries out in surprise, instantly covering his face in a curious display of self-preservation. Demons tend to turn their cheek to abuse and most monsters would be too numb to notice such a small disruption.
John lowers his rifle a fraction as the child keens, stunned, and he frowns considering the possibility....
John closes the distance between them and the boy has barely raised his head when he's splashed in the face with water from John's flask.
"Gnarr-rr-rr!" The boy snarls, rubbing his eyes.
John notes that he sounds more annoyed than pained and his expression is so familiar; it's the same pout of frustrated exasperation worn by every child who ever thought it was being treated unjustly.
Hoping that he's right, John knicks the boy's hand with his silver blade, but there's no hiss of smoke, no scent of burning flesh.
The kid roars at his feet, startled, and kicks John in the ankle.
"What are you *doing*?"
John grunts and momentarily buckles, because that was a good hit. And he was wrong. He catches himself on one knee, cursing under his breath that something so young and *human* managed to land one on him, and the kid looks ready to take another strike when he stops, eye to eye with the hunter, and stares.
"A - Are you.... ?" The boy stammers, eyes wide and John notices for the first time that they're blue.
He abruptly thinks of Mary.
"Human, yeah," John sighs, frowning.
The boy's face pinches, he cants his head as though that wasn't the answer he expected and John's struck by a sudden, dangerous instinct to protect this stranger.
He looks around the barn. "What're you doin' here by yourself, kid?"
The boy fidgets in his too big clothes, smearing bloody fingerprints at the pockets. "I'm alone."
"... You took those demons out all on your own?"
The boy looks down, then raises his bloody palms for John to see as though that explains it all. The sleeves of his too big clothes must be what's endearing John to him, because he feels like he's looking at Dean five years ago.
He scans the kid from head to toe. "What was your name?"
"Castiel," the boy mumbles and then pipes louder, "I'm -- I... I was an angel of the Lord."
"Uh-huh." John nods, unconvinced and wonders at the number done on this kid. "Castiel, I'm John Winchester. You can call me John."
"John Winchester," the boy breathes in a hushed whisper, which John chooses to ignore.
"We should get you out of here," John says instead and glances at Castiel's fallen demons. "You did a good job, kid."
"Yes. Yes, I want to come with you."
John pretends not to notice the boy's choice in words or the way Castiel holds on to the leg of John's pant when he leads them out of the barn, through the brush, and across the road to the Impala a few hundred yards away.
Castiel keeps looking up at him, craning his neck back and John hovers a hand at the back of his head out of habit from when Sammy was this size and would easily unbalance himself with that posture.
"We'll take you into town, get you some help," John says as he opens the door and Castiel climbs in before John has time to step back for him.
Castiel buckles himself into the back seat and stares at John expectantly.
John hopes Castiel won't get blood all over the leather.
Part 2
» Fandom: Supernatural
» Warnings: De-ageing!
» Pairing(s)/Characters: wee!Castiel, John Winchester
» Summary: As punishment for disobeying, Castiel is sent back in time in the form of a young child - only to be unofficially adopted by John Winchester.
» A/N: Written here for
merry_gentry in comment_fic. When John crashes through the doors of the old barn, rifle cocked, he's almost blinded instantly.
When he puts his arm down, John sees at least four dispossessed bodies prone in the straw. They're still twitching and John tucks the rifle against his shoulder, but that's when he sees the young boy trembling by one of the wooden support beams.
"Hey," John calls, cautious, and the boy's head snaps up.
The boy's dirt-smeared face is shining with tears in the light of John's flashlight, his dark hair sticking up everywhere and when he tries to shield his eyes from the light, John sees the blood on his palms.
He can't be more than five years old.
"Desist, demon! I'm Castiel, an angel of the Lord, and I'll smite you as well!" The child shrieks, voice cracking in defiance, and he clambers for the wooden beam behind him. John sees him reach for the bloody sigil painted there and takes aim.
This thing may be wearing a child's face, but John's no fool.
His first shot disintegrates the sigil, spraying wood and the child cries out in surprise, instantly covering his face in a curious display of self-preservation. Demons tend to turn their cheek to abuse and most monsters would be too numb to notice such a small disruption.
John lowers his rifle a fraction as the child keens, stunned, and he frowns considering the possibility....
John closes the distance between them and the boy has barely raised his head when he's splashed in the face with water from John's flask.
"Gnarr-rr-rr!" The boy snarls, rubbing his eyes.
John notes that he sounds more annoyed than pained and his expression is so familiar; it's the same pout of frustrated exasperation worn by every child who ever thought it was being treated unjustly.
Hoping that he's right, John knicks the boy's hand with his silver blade, but there's no hiss of smoke, no scent of burning flesh.
The kid roars at his feet, startled, and kicks John in the ankle.
"What are you *doing*?"
John grunts and momentarily buckles, because that was a good hit. And he was wrong. He catches himself on one knee, cursing under his breath that something so young and *human* managed to land one on him, and the kid looks ready to take another strike when he stops, eye to eye with the hunter, and stares.
"A - Are you.... ?" The boy stammers, eyes wide and John notices for the first time that they're blue.
He abruptly thinks of Mary.
"Human, yeah," John sighs, frowning.
The boy's face pinches, he cants his head as though that wasn't the answer he expected and John's struck by a sudden, dangerous instinct to protect this stranger.
He looks around the barn. "What're you doin' here by yourself, kid?"
The boy fidgets in his too big clothes, smearing bloody fingerprints at the pockets. "I'm alone."
"... You took those demons out all on your own?"
The boy looks down, then raises his bloody palms for John to see as though that explains it all. The sleeves of his too big clothes must be what's endearing John to him, because he feels like he's looking at Dean five years ago.
He scans the kid from head to toe. "What was your name?"
"Castiel," the boy mumbles and then pipes louder, "I'm -- I... I was an angel of the Lord."
"Uh-huh." John nods, unconvinced and wonders at the number done on this kid. "Castiel, I'm John Winchester. You can call me John."
"John Winchester," the boy breathes in a hushed whisper, which John chooses to ignore.
"We should get you out of here," John says instead and glances at Castiel's fallen demons. "You did a good job, kid."
"Yes. Yes, I want to come with you."
John pretends not to notice the boy's choice in words or the way Castiel holds on to the leg of John's pant when he leads them out of the barn, through the brush, and across the road to the Impala a few hundred yards away.
Castiel keeps looking up at him, craning his neck back and John hovers a hand at the back of his head out of habit from when Sammy was this size and would easily unbalance himself with that posture.
"We'll take you into town, get you some help," John says as he opens the door and Castiel climbs in before John has time to step back for him.
Castiel buckles himself into the back seat and stares at John expectantly.
John hopes Castiel won't get blood all over the leather.
Part 2
