OH MY GOSH eeeeeeeeee. CAS VS MULDER. EXCEPT NOT. Because she cannot choooooooose. THE GHOST OF DEEEEAAAAN. PERSONAL REAL ESTATE BUT CAS IS NOT JEALOUS.
OH MY GOD UNO OH MY GOD HE TOOK HER TO EGYPT
Sure, she has questions about God, and faith, and religion and souls, death, life, all of that, but most of the time it feels like bad manners to ask. Scully isn't sure whether it's because she doesn't want to put Castiel in an awkward position, or if she doesn't want the answers. She's been getting by on no answers just fine, relatively speaking. In one piece, if not whole.
Once, just once, she nearly asked him about Melissa. It was the anniversary of her death, never a good day, and she felt nothing when she heard his familiar rustling entrance. Come have some wine, she said, now that she didn't have to drink alone, but of course Castiel didn't have any. Scully told him about the latest x-file, and he discussed it with her, what evil lurked in the hearts of men, especially in men who are only half men and are something else entirely under the cover of darkness.
"You guys gonna chuck him downstairs because he can't help his bloodlust?" Scully asked. "His weakness?"
"It's not my place to judge souls," Castiel replied, and then the words were on the tip of her tongue, right there, she could feel it.
Where is my sister? Edging along her lips: Have you seen her? Lost in placid blue eyes and the clenching of her heart, thinking, Is she okay?
Scully said nothing, and Castiel said, "Dana?" tipping his head to one side, and she put her wine glass on the table and had to look away for a bit. Had to bury her face in her hands and just breathe. She wanted to shrug off his hand when she felt a tentative touch at her shoulder, but she couldn't, she couldn't, and when he said her name again, she couldn't reply.
It was only when Scully felt the familiar pulse of his grace spreading warm across her skin that she said, "Don't."
She would mourn her sister with nothing repaired. Melissa deserves that much.
Scully keeps her questions small. She learns about Elijah's favorite foods, and Jacob's favorite stories to tell his children, and that Luke liked to sing despite being tone-deaf.
"What kind of songs did Luke sing?" she asks.
"He particularly liked one about a goat, and the lonely shepherd who loved it," says Castiel. "They sang it in all the taverns, back then."
"You're joking."
"I don't joke."
"Sing me the first verse."
"I don't sing."
"You don't do much of anything, huh?"
"Not anymore."
Scully winces at that, but he changes the subject before she can say anything else, much to her relief.
UH-OH
OH MY GOSH eeeeeeeeee. CAS VS MULDER. EXCEPT NOT. Because she cannot choooooooose. THE GHOST OF DEEEEAAAAN. PERSONAL REAL ESTATE BUT CAS IS NOT JEALOUS.
OH MY GOD UNO OH MY GOD HE TOOK HER TO EGYPT
Sure, she has questions about God, and faith, and religion and souls, death, life, all of that, but most of the time it feels like bad manners to ask. Scully isn't sure whether it's because she doesn't want to put Castiel in an awkward position, or if she doesn't want the answers. She's been getting by on no answers just fine, relatively speaking. In one piece, if not whole.
Once, just once, she nearly asked him about Melissa. It was the anniversary of her death, never a good day, and she felt nothing when she heard his familiar rustling entrance. Come have some wine, she said, now that she didn't have to drink alone, but of course Castiel didn't have any. Scully told him about the latest x-file, and he discussed it with her, what evil lurked in the hearts of men, especially in men who are only half men and are something else entirely under the cover of darkness.
"You guys gonna chuck him downstairs because he can't help his bloodlust?" Scully asked. "His weakness?"
"It's not my place to judge souls," Castiel replied, and then the words were on the tip of her tongue, right there, she could feel it.
Where is my sister? Edging along her lips: Have you seen her? Lost in placid blue eyes and the clenching of her heart, thinking, Is she okay?
Scully said nothing, and Castiel said, "Dana?" tipping his head to one side, and she put her wine glass on the table and had to look away for a bit. Had to bury her face in her hands and just breathe. She wanted to shrug off his hand when she felt a tentative touch at her shoulder, but she couldn't, she couldn't, and when he said her name again, she couldn't reply.
It was only when Scully felt the familiar pulse of his grace spreading warm across her skin that she said, "Don't."
She would mourn her sister with nothing repaired. Melissa deserves that much.
Scully keeps her questions small. She learns about Elijah's favorite foods, and Jacob's favorite stories to tell his children, and that Luke liked to sing despite being tone-deaf.
"What kind of songs did Luke sing?" she asks.
"He particularly liked one about a goat, and the lonely shepherd who loved it," says Castiel. "They sang it in all the taverns, back then."
"You're joking."
"I don't joke."
"Sing me the first verse."
"I don't sing."
"You don't do much of anything, huh?"
"Not anymore."
Scully winces at that, but he changes the subject before she can say anything else, much to her relief.