Castiel's Humans

27: Captured

~oOo~

Captured

“You need to stay with David, please, Mickila.”

“Why?”

He paused, eyes glazing over with a liquid cool only Angels could possess. “Reasons.”

“That’s not good enough Cas.” I caught myself before the flood of words would spill from my lips. I feel like I’m losing you, like I couldn’t recognise you in a crowd. The thought laid heavy in my chest. 

He held my gaze before gingerly laying a hand out to touch my shoulder. Once it would have created an emotion that burned and spread like a wildfire across my body, but now it lay dormant as the two of us internally struggled. There was a flare of hope though, that Cas would say something that would redeem his silence, revive the embers of emotion I felt towards him. “If not for me,” he said slowly like the words were hard, “For Dean. He does not know what I do, but if he did…” Cas left it there as Sam entered the room. 

Sam, reeling backwards, cringed when he realised he had walked in on a heavy conversation. Holding his thumb over his shoulder he looked from Castiel to Micki, “We’re about to hit the road.”

Cas looked over to Micki, removed his hand, and with one look left with more questions than answers. 

~

It was the scene Crowley could see replay in her mind over and over, the colours of cause were more vivid than the initial confrontation the two had experienced but Mickila always imaged brighter. Maybe, Crowley thought lifting a silver blade between to thumbs, She’s the bright flame that extinguishes so quickly. 

A gargled moan of muffled pain emerged from cracked lips. Her thick eyelashes threatened her awakening moments before her blue eyes opened lethargically. They widened even more upon seeing Crowley and a hard line became of her lips. 

“Ahh, she wakes,” Crowley said while slowly making his way around her. “What fun should we get up to today?”

“How long has it been?” She managed looking like she was about to be sick but even if she could manage, her starved body had little to eat. “How long have-“

Crowley cut her off, not missing the chance to puncture into the veil of her emotions. “You want to know why none of your little buddies have come and collected you yet.”

 He placed the sharp of the blade on her defined cheekbone. Starving her had pronounced her once soft features and thus revealed the harder stuff the woman was made of. He held it there as the droplet of red boiled to a pulp teardrop and tumbled down the pale features. With a slow flick of his wrist he trailed the blade down the length of her cheekbone twisting here and there to paint a picture of blood and sweet pain. He hadn’t really had this much fun since becoming King of Hell. 

“It’s because they don't care.”

~oOo~ 

Dean looked down at his phone, his irritation radiating off onto his brother resting at the motel kitchen table. Dean didn’t notice, in fact he didn’t even have an understanding on his own emotions. Leaving Micki with David felt wrong in his gut to his toes.What could he have done though? She was adamant of her decision; a jaw set in a hard line and hands on slender hips. ‘I’ll Call,’ she had promised, and yet after the first week she hadn’t. 

“You know phones work both ways,” Sam said making Dean’s head snap up. “You can call her.”

But calling her was so wrong and she had promised. He looked away from Sam before his brother could read his expression; a smart rebuttal tasted like decay on his tongue and he let it lay dormant. Something felt off about having not having her around and it wasn’t just his taboo attraction towards her, she had become his friend, a constant in his ever changing life of motel rooms and monsters.