Gods, Angels, & Demons

Full Nothingness

Camp Half Blood.

Oh, Camp Half Blood.

Demigods everywhere, bustling around, weapons in hand, on backs, in shoes, in waistbands. That, quite possibly, is the true demigod spirit, as a child of Ares would say. The true demigod spirit is when one would steal without getting caught, as a child of Hermes would say. Or all of these things, different upon who your godly parent is. So there really is no true demigod spirit, I suppose. Not really, no. Though, as for Castiel Novak, what seemed to be the demigod spirit to others was bullying, hurting him, and always managing to pick fights.

No one ever really helped Castiel Novak when he was being hurt by another. Probably because it would just look like another practice, another training. Or maybe just because he was some nobody -- that's what he thought, at least.

He never quite fit in -- never quite made the great. He was always the outcast wherever he went, no matter it being a different school or a different foster home, or different city.

Things always seemed to change, change, change, and it made Cas angry. It made him angry how he wanted to fit in, but couldn't. It made him angry how he wanted to fight so well like the others did. It made him angry because he wanted to be normal.

---

Dean Winchester.

Hottest guy in the entire camp, as stated by every single girl in the Aphrodite cabin.

He's counselor of the Ares cabin, the person not only children of Ares, but everyone in this darned camp looks up to. He can use every weapon possible, he's as smart as an Athenian in he time of battle, though not book smart. He's cunning, like a child of Hermes. He's all these amazing things, given these traits to be a weapon, as some would say.

He's what Mr. D would call an Elite: the demigods that are more powerful than originally thought, and are requested for larger quests and bigger problems.

Dean, personally, sometimes liked the fame and the girls, but other times, it was just annoying. He didn't like when the girls were constantly trying to get into his pants, or people constantly trying to see if they can win a duel against him, which, might I add, they never did.

The only person he could really trust in the whole camp was a child of Athena named Sam Campbell. He was smart, booksmart, and could fight well, so they trained together quite a lot. He'd taken care of Sam since he was just eight, when they had just so happened to bump into each other in the woods six years ago.

There was an age difference -- Sam is two years younger than him, which made him fourteen.

They were basically brothers now, Sam having been promoted to an Elite a while back due to request from Dean. He'd said he was amazing at battle plans, even more so at fighting, and after a test, he was put into the group.

As head of the Elites, Dean Winchester was definitely the most popular demigod in all of Camp Half Blood.

---

"Stay down!" Lucas, known by Lucifer by everyone at the camp due to his bullying behavior. He's a child of Hermes, a child of Hermes that just loved to use Castiel as his own personal punching bag.

As of now, Cas had a foot to his stomach, nose bleeding everywhere, blood on his forehead, cheeks, shirt, in his black hair, just all over the place. He couldn't get up -- he couldn't move, and a couple ribs must have been broken.

"Hey man, stop." Said a very familiar and unexpected voice to Lucifer, sword in hand. "Do you really want me to do this?" He asked after Lucifer had kicked Cas in the stomach once again. Knowing Dean and his repuation, Lucifer fled, leaving Cas in his own pile of blood and dirt.

"Hey, dude, I gotta take you to the infirmary." Dean set his sword in it's sheathe that was along his back and scooped Castiel up into his arms, carrying him to the infirmary. "You okay? I mean, generally?" Dean asked as they walked, Cas' impossibly blue eyes looking up into Dean's also impossibly green eyes with a glazed over look. "Generally." He managed as his arms hooked around Dean's neck, keeping himself steady.

Dean looked down at him with a glare that had a twinge of get your hands off of me, but then again, he was carrying him, and this guy was hurt, and kind of cute, so he didn't say anything about it.

The infirmary was a cabin sized building, three stories high, fit to hold about ten people per floor. Once inside, Dean told the child of Apollo that was working at the time what had happened, and she nodded, leading Dean to the room where Cas should be laid down. He set him down on the hospital bed and sat in a chair beside him as he was fed a square of ambrosia to quicken the healing, then aside from that, was stitched up.

"Why are you staying in here? You're Dean Winchester, you should have better things to do. " Cas said after a few moments of silence, tilting his head to look over at Dean. "Because I need to make sure you're okay. Besides, that asshole could come back in here and overdose you on ambrosia or something." Dean explained, glaring up at him, looking at all of his bruises, stitched cuts, and dried blood that they didn't wash off.

"Fine."

"What's your name, anyways? I haven't really seen you around camp before." Dean straightened his back in the chair, fiddling with his thumbs in his lap. "Of course you haven't seen me around.." Cas chuckled softly to himself before he was actually replying. "I'm Castiel Novak, child of Apollo, the camp nobody." He sighed in defeat, then gestured to his cuts and bruises. "If I meant something to at least one person in this damn camp, I don't think I'd be so hurt."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, because yeah, that was kind of true. He'd never seen him ever before just a few minutes ago, and yet based upon the beads that were on his neck, he'd been in the camp for five years. "Well, I'm glad to meet you, Cas."

No one ever called Castiel 'Cas' but this was Dean motherfucking Winchester, so he most definitely did not stop him from calling him Cas.

"Nice to meet you, too, Dean." Cas said calmly, looking at him with a raised brow.

"What?" Dean asked, noticing his expression.

"Nothing."

Dean shrugged it off, leaning back in his chair, continuing to fiddle with his thumbs.

That's the demigod spirit. Saving people, not hurting them. Not training, or stealing, or any of those other things. Saving people. That's all, really. Just save people, or animals, and you're a true demigod.