#nephilim!cas

[talths]

Could you maybe draw Castiel with yellow eyes (the nephilim eyes)? You don't have to! Down to you!

only have time for a quick doodle because I need to go to bed lol

[buckybee]

Prologue 

SPN Writing Challenge | @buckybee vs. @guilelessquagmire  prompt: you don't have the power to kill me
 pairings: pre-destiel 
word count: 1268 
tags: nephilim!Cas, dragon!Dean, burns (injuries)
 warning: this thing is not beta’d and written in a rush. I’m sorry? It’s a prequel of the other story I’ve written for @spnwritingchallenge.
 miscellaneous: “raw” here is intended as something that we consider natural - like a natural fire - but that for Cas is not, since his idea of natural is fairly different from ours. It’s merely “raw”, without what we consider supernatural qualities // Dean’s pronouns are they/their/them because genders are not the same for creatures, and Cas has no idea what Dean's is until he tells Cas himself. 

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Castiel was trapped. 
 He had no idea how that had happened, but he was inside a circle of fire he couldn’t pass through. The flames’ colour was more intense than common raw ones’, their movements more controlled, but it wasn’t holy fire. The energy was completely different.
 It was more similar to the force of a soul than celestial devices, living and complex and dynamic.  It was… rather fascinating.  
Castiel reached out to the flames, intrigued. 
 “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” 
 Castiel didn’t turn his head, but stopped his hand just before touching the fire. The heat was already engulfing his cold fingers, endless stabs of pain all over his hand. 
 “Could this hurt me?” he asked, lazily shifting his Grace inside his body and withdrawing it from his hand. From dead pale, the skin suddenly turned dark pink.  
“Would you like to find out?” 
Castiel finally twisted to look at who had talked. 
“You don’t know?” he said, only mildly surprised.
 “Oh, I know, but you look so curious. I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
 The creature in front of him was tall and muscular, clearly strong. Lines of shining lavas rose all over their body, following the path of their veins, creating an intricate pattern of burning heat where little flames were bursting randomly, leaving ashes on their way that sunk immediately back into their skin. 
Castiel tilted his head. “I see. This is your Fire, then, Dragon.” 
“It is” the Dragon said, leaning against the wall. The Fire that surrounded Castiel moved, dancing in harmony with the little bursts of flames on the creature’s skin.
 “Is there a reason I am within a circle of your Fire, Dragon?” Castiel asked, waving his fingers to follow the dance. His hand was red, now, but he didn’t feel the heat. His Grace was tucked just before the wrist, though he doubted a Dragon could really hurt him. 
 “Yes.”
 Castiel waited patiently. 
 The Dragon was watching his fingers, green eyes blinking slowly and lazily. It was unusual for Dragons to have other colours than black or crimson on their bodies, yet this creature had light eyes and hairs. They must have been quite ancient. Which meant dangerous, but Castiel was still probably older than their ancestors.  
“I need something you have.” 
 “Mh” Castiel commented, observing the sores that were appearing on his fingertips. The heat was starting to damage the tissue. It was quite a stinking process. 
 “And I have to kill you to take it.” 
Castiel looked at the Dragon then, and pushed his hand into the flames. 
His Grace was tingling unpleasantly from where it was safely kept, stinging viciously when the Fire crept closer, and downright exploding in pain once the flames reached it, just behind the wrist.  Castiel gasped and grimaced and retreated his hand, letting his Grace heal itself and flow back in his fingers, which were completely carbonized. 
 “So you can hurt me” he stated, while his flesh returned pink and then pale and cold, rejoined with his Grace. “But you don’t have the power to kill me, as it seems. I wouldn’t be able to heal myself otherwise.”  
The Dragon’s eyes darkened, hard and dangerous.  “I could torture you until you give up” they said, and the flames surged suddenly at Castiel, high enough to engulf him. 
 Castiel withdrew his Grace from his feet and ankles and sidestepped into the Fire and then out of it. 
It was holding the Dragon by their throat in a blink of an eye. 
 “You do not have the power to kill me, Dragon, in any way.” he murmured, tighten his hold. The Dragon growled at him, eyes sharp and ready and a bit scared. 
 Castiel considered them for a few moments, then released their throat. The Dragon coughed long and hard, little flames bursting more forcefully around their neck. 
“What do you need from me?” Castiel asked. 
The Dragon took a deep breath, coughed more, and raised their eyes to look at Castiel with a sneer.
 “Why do you want to know?” they bit back. 
“Because I’m curious” Castiel answered “and because I doubt you know much about my kind. What you think you must take by murder, I could be able to give willingly.” 
 “And you would be willing to?” the Dragon answered, skepticism evident in his tone.
 “‘Why shouldn’t I’ is the question that inspires most of my actions. I don’t see why I shouldn’t if I could.”
 The Dragon was still weary, and understandably so. 
Castiel shrugged and turned to leave. 
“Wait.”
 Castiel stopped.
 “I need your Grace. My brother has been infected by demon blood and your grace could save him.” 
 The Dragon was looking at him; Dragons weren’t creatures used or made to beg - so strong, so powerful and alive - but the Dragon’s gaze was almost pleading. Family bonds, for Dragons, were fundamental and extremely tight: lifelong codependent relationships were common between brothers. 
Castiel looked back, unblinking. “My Grace is not pure” he said “it’s corrupted. I don’t think it’s what you need.”
 “Unadulterated grace is too strong, it could kill us.” the Dragon answered, stepping closer. “Nephilims’ Grace in exactly what we want. Alone, it’s not strong enough to harm us, but as pure as we need to disintegrate the influence of demon’s blood.” 
 “I see.” Castiel pondered it over. One, huge dose of Nephilim’s Grace to cure infections from demon’s blood. Oh, but demon’s blood was such a vile thing, with the habit of coming back again and again.  
“One dose won’t be enough” he said, eventually. 
 The Dragon frowned. “What do you mean?” 
“Demon’s blood has the habit to hide until it’s strong enough to come back. My grace would destroy most of it, but it’s possible that a minuscule part would resist, and rise again once it could.”
 The Dragon’s face fell. So heartbroken. “Are you saying there’s no cure for it?”
 “Yes. But it’s manageable.”  
“How?”
 “I could give your brother some of my Grace regularly, say once a year. That way demon’s blood wouldn’t be able to regain its strength, and my Grace would have time to heal itself.” 
The Dragon shook their head, desperately. “Why would you do it? What do you want from us?” 
Castiel let his eyes slip on the Dragon’s body, on their burning patterns, on their light hairs and strong muscles and those delicious flames. 
 “Not many creatures are able to make me feel physical sensations.” he answered, raising his hand and hovering it over the Dragon’s cheek. “I can easily feel this body’s pain and pleasure, but they’re not really mine. You can touch my Grace, tough, and I… feel.” 
He lowered his fingertips, just his fingertips, to brush the Dragon’s skin. 
Pain exploded in his body, shooting from his hand to his feet, resonating in his brain and making his teeth clatter. Electric impulses darted through his body, mixing up, confusing him with ecstasy and agony. He faintly registered the Dragon’s gasp. 
“You are so hot” panted Castiel. So, so hot.
 He managed to yank his hand away, and the pain stopped immediately, as sudden as it came, allowing them to breath again. 
“What I want” Castiel said “is that you make me feel once a year, after I share my Grace with your brother. That’s my payment.”
 “I agree” rasped the Dragon. 
 Castiel smiled. “The we have a deal.”
 “What’s your name?” asked the Dragon. 
“Castiel.”
 The Dragon grinned, teeth sharp and so white in the dark room they were in. “Hi, Cas. I’m Dean.”
 “Hello, Dean.”

[nerdycelestial]

Supernatural: The Next Generation

It began to get dark and Castiel were trying to find somewhere to sleep for the night. He knew where to go by now and also not to stay for long in any place, otherwise they would find him again. It had been about a year since he ran away from the orphanage and he planned to stay away from it. They had not been nice there. He had been at that orphanage for about two years. Before that he had lived with an old priest and a couple of nuns in an old Catholic church. They had always told him he was special, but he had never fully understod what they had meant. At the orphanage they had called him a freak. The only thing he knew about his past before the church was that someone had just left him on one of the benches in the church with a letter telling them his name was Castiel, five years old and that he had no one that could take care of him. Now he was eleven and he prefered to not think about his past. Cas was about to walk past an alley when a tingling sensation made him stop and turn towards the dark narrow path. There was someone or something in there that he somehow sensed. He squinted and searched the shadowy alley.