Twist And Shout Destiel (Not my story)

Part Six

POV: Third person omniscient (Dean)

Dean went through his collection of blades again as Bobby spraypainted the walls of the warehouse with a multitude of symbols. They were about to summon the creature that pulled him out of Hell.

“That's a hell of an art project you've got going there.” Dean mused, turning over a silver knife in his hands.

“Traps and talismans from every faith on the globe,” Bobby replied, finishing the sigil. “How you doin’?”

“Stakes, iron, silver, salt, knife... I mean, we're pretty much set to catch and kill anything I've ever heard of.” Dean responded.

Bobby shook his head and sighed, “This is still a bad idea.”

“Yeah, Bobby, I heard you the first ten times.” Dean retorted. “What do you say we ring the dinner bell?”

Reluctantly, the older man nodded and went over to the table where they laid out the materials needed for the ritual. He pinched some powder from a bowl and sprinkled it into a bowl.

“Amate spiritus obscure, Te quaerimus…”

—

POV: Third person omniscient (Cas)

“Amate spiritus obscure, Te quaerimus…”

Just as Cas was about to return to the motel, he heard a chant coming from the interior of the warehouse. Normally, it wouldn’t be much of a concern to Cas, what with all those silly teenagers these days meddling with supernatural forces. This chant, however, was different. Not only did he hear it with his human senses, it also appeared in his head. Not unlike the one he “heard” a few days ago, which ultimately resulted in a casualty…

They were summoning him, Cas realized. Who would want to do that? The same party that had been trying to get a glimpse of his true visage? But why? What had he done besides pulling Dean out of Hell? Why were so many people suddenly curious with him?

Cas felt the pull of the spell, compelling him to go inside. Should he resist it? Should he fly away?

Heck, let’s just go and see what’s the hype all about.

POV: Third person omniscient (Dean)

Minutes had passed, and nothing strange has happened yet. Dean was beginning to grow impatient. “You sure you did the ritual right?”

Bobby shot him a glare that clearly meant, “Shut up.” Dean relented and apologized. “Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?”

But no sooner had Dean finished his sentence, a loud rattling shook the roof. Both men jumped to their feet immediately and armed themselves.

They looked around the warehouse, but nothing seemed out of the norm except for the banging of the tiles above them.

“Wishful thinking, but maybe it’s just the wind.” Dean joked.

As if on cue, the lights hanging above them exploded and millions of glass shards rained down. The doors burst open, and an exceptionally handsome man walked in with an impassive expression.

Well, that was definitely not the wind.

It was hard for Dean and Bobby to see clearly, as the lights were still blowing up and sparks were flying everywhere. But they both raised their guns and shot at the general direction of the being.

They definitely saw the salt rounds hit the “man”, but it showed no signs of stopping. It was as if the bullets were made of cotton or something.

Dean and Bobby exchanged a knowing glance, and the former picked up the demon blade.

The man stopped, a few feet away from Dean. Dean looked into his blue eyes and saw something akin to… affection?

Just as Dean began trying to decipher the meaning behind the tenderness, it was gone.

Dean cursed inwardly. Bad timing, mind. Very bad timing. Now is not exactly the best moment for you to play tricks on me.

“Who are you?” Dean asked gruffly, trying to tether himself to reality. He had to focus. Whatever this man was, it can’t be anything good.

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” The other replied coolly.

Dean scoffed, “Yeah, thanks for that.”

He reared back and plunged the knife straight into the man’s chest. He expected it to collapse, or at least wince, but it didn’t even give the slightest reaction. It merely glanced at the knife and pulled it out with ease. The knife fell to the floor with a loud clang.

Seeing this, Bobby attacked it from behind. He swung his blade at the creature with full force, but the latter blocked the blow without even looking at him. The unearthly being turned around and faced Bobby.

It raised two fingers and touched Bobby on the forehead. Just like that, the hunter crumpled, unconscious.

It turned back to Dean, and this time, he could have sworn that he saw a certain kind of longing in them.

“We need to talk, Dean. Alone.”