[ She knows he means well with that attempt at reassurance, but she's seen what a vampire out of control can do. Even as young as she is, as weak when compared to Kol and the other Originals, she could do irreparable damage to him before he'd be able to stop her, and she couldn't live with that. The memories of the deaths she'd caused with her own hands still haunt her and she can't bear to add more to them.
But... maybe he really could help. Somehow. A tiny spark of hope curls into being within her and she goes still, watching him for a long moment as her fingers again dig into the sand. Every grain of sand is felt against her skin and she focuses on the sensation, trying to count each one in an attempt to overcome her instincts. Her need. ]
I need to feed. I need blood.
[ And she hates the way it sounds. Like an animal. Like a monster. ]
[ Castiel keeps his eyes on her the entire time. Makes sure she feels the weight of it, of a creature older than the world allowing her to speak this truth and pass judgment in her favour. ]
You don't wish to hurt anyone.
[ A statement, not a question. He doesn't need for her to confirm it. The way she's removed herself from other residents, the way everything inside of her called for help, not knowing that anyone would even be capable of hearing, or providing.
Castiel remembers Benny.
Castiel remembers Sam.
Castiel... clenches his fingers for a moment, then unclenches them.
He used to condemn creatures for what they were. He's since met monsters, become one, and found a demon to l-...
That thought, quietly, painfully, is tucked far, far away. He layers it under the shredded remains of his faith, that unexplored, unspoken emotion that could never come to pass. ]
Stay here. Keep praying, to me directly this time, so I can return to your side. Should you snap before I make it back to you, I will smite you before you can harm others.
[ Harsh? Perhaps. But Castiel knows what it's like to slaughter with no one able to oppose him. She... does not deserve to shoulder such guilt, when she tries so hard to hold herself back.
Castiel is quick. Departs, briefly, to gather supplies. A deep soup bowl rom the Independence's kitchen, as well as a sharp knife. Bandages, because he doesn't heal as fast as he'd like to, here.
He's back by her side, fast, and wordlessly presses the bowl into her hands and begins rolling up the layered sleeves on his left forearm. ]
Unlike most residents here, I don't particularly need it. You'll tell me when it's enough.
[ He doesn't have to explain for her to recognize that she is being both weighed and judged. She can feel it in the weight of his gaze, the way he seemed to look into her very soul. And... well, he is an angel. That's probably something he can actually do. There's no hiding from it if it is, and no point in trying — she's always been simply who she is, and if that now includes something monstrous...
But then. But then.
He leaves so quickly after saying that words that she's barely able to process them. If he'd taken an hour in his departure, she might have still been processing what he said. He's... helping her? And offering to take her down if that's what it comes to. As strange as it might be to absolutely anyone else, Elena appreciates that more than she could ever say.
So pray she does, as hard as she can, harder than she ever has before because it's the only thing keeping her rooted to that spot on the ground. One slip and she'll go running to the town, to all those heartbeats. And then he's back and a bowl is in her hands, a knife in his.
He's really doing this. She stares up at him in disbelief and hope, some part of her still so afraid — that she'll hurt him, that he'll take away this precious offer. ]
Thank you.
[ They're the only words she can say. And when the blood begins to spill, it takes more control than she'd known she had to stay perfectly still, barely even breathing as the veins darken beneath her eyes and she watches the bowl slowly fill. So slowly. ]
Stop.
[ It's not enough, barely half the bowl when she could drain him dry and still not be satisfied, but her control is slipping and she needs him to stop so she can drink. ]
[ Part of him knows this is irrational and dangerous.
The smart thing, the much more practical thing, would be to end her now and take her lantern to the church, buy some time until other means of feeding her or handling her can be produced. She is, after all, just a vampire.
It's her unwillingness to hurt people that makes him stay the soldier in himself, makes him want to help rather than simply handle.
Perhaps Benny's been a bigger influence than Castiel likes to admit, too.
And perhaps giving her a taste of celestial blood will, in the future, curb her appetite for human. No matter what she thinks, she's just a vampire.
Castiel stops when she requests it, holding his palm over the cut. A soft light glows in his hand, and while he can't close the cut fully in this realm with his powers, he can encourage the skin to produce a thin layer of scab over it, cover it until he needs to potentially cut it open all over again.
She's not like Benny. Castiel doesn't balk though, just looks at her, observes her. Vampires don't look like that where he's from, so she's from elsewhere, too. Interesting. He wonders if Jo knows about her. Wonders who's less likely to have mercy on a monster - an angel or a hunter.
She prayed, and Castiel can't deny that part of him was moved. ]
Drink. You will get more if more is what you need.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
But... maybe he really could help. Somehow. A tiny spark of hope curls into being within her and she goes still, watching him for a long moment as her fingers again dig into the sand. Every grain of sand is felt against her skin and she focuses on the sensation, trying to count each one in an attempt to overcome her instincts. Her need. ]
I need to feed. I need blood.
[ And she hates the way it sounds. Like an animal. Like a monster. ]
no subject
You don't wish to hurt anyone.
[ A statement, not a question. He doesn't need for her to confirm it. The way she's removed herself from other residents, the way everything inside of her called for help, not knowing that anyone would even be capable of hearing, or providing.
Castiel remembers Benny.
Castiel remembers Sam.
Castiel... clenches his fingers for a moment, then unclenches them.
He used to condemn creatures for what they were. He's since met monsters, become one, and found a demon to l-...
That thought, quietly, painfully, is tucked far, far away. He layers it under the shredded remains of his faith, that unexplored, unspoken emotion that could never come to pass. ]
Stay here. Keep praying, to me directly this time, so I can return to your side. Should you snap before I make it back to you, I will smite you before you can harm others.
[ Harsh? Perhaps. But Castiel knows what it's like to slaughter with no one able to oppose him. She... does not deserve to shoulder such guilt, when she tries so hard to hold herself back.
Castiel is quick. Departs, briefly, to gather supplies. A deep soup bowl rom the Independence's kitchen, as well as a sharp knife. Bandages, because he doesn't heal as fast as he'd like to, here.
He's back by her side, fast, and wordlessly presses the bowl into her hands and begins rolling up the layered sleeves on his left forearm. ]
Unlike most residents here, I don't particularly need it. You'll tell me when it's enough.
no subject
But then. But then.
He leaves so quickly after saying that words that she's barely able to process them. If he'd taken an hour in his departure, she might have still been processing what he said. He's... helping her? And offering to take her down if that's what it comes to. As strange as it might be to absolutely anyone else, Elena appreciates that more than she could ever say.
So pray she does, as hard as she can, harder than she ever has before because it's the only thing keeping her rooted to that spot on the ground. One slip and she'll go running to the town, to all those heartbeats. And then he's back and a bowl is in her hands, a knife in his.
He's really doing this. She stares up at him in disbelief and hope, some part of her still so afraid — that she'll hurt him, that he'll take away this precious offer. ]
Thank you.
[ They're the only words she can say. And when the blood begins to spill, it takes more control than she'd known she had to stay perfectly still, barely even breathing as the veins darken beneath her eyes and she watches the bowl slowly fill. So slowly. ]
Stop.
[ It's not enough, barely half the bowl when she could drain him dry and still not be satisfied, but her control is slipping and she needs him to stop so she can drink. ]
no subject
The smart thing, the much more practical thing, would be to end her now and take her lantern to the church, buy some time until other means of feeding her or handling her can be produced. She is, after all, just a vampire.
It's her unwillingness to hurt people that makes him stay the soldier in himself, makes him want to help rather than simply handle.
Perhaps Benny's been a bigger influence than Castiel likes to admit, too.
And perhaps giving her a taste of celestial blood will, in the future, curb her appetite for human. No matter what she thinks, she's just a vampire.
Castiel stops when she requests it, holding his palm over the cut. A soft light glows in his hand, and while he can't close the cut fully in this realm with his powers, he can encourage the skin to produce a thin layer of scab over it, cover it until he needs to potentially cut it open all over again.
She's not like Benny. Castiel doesn't balk though, just looks at her, observes her. Vampires don't look like that where he's from, so she's from elsewhere, too. Interesting. He wonders if Jo knows about her. Wonders who's less likely to have mercy on a monster - an angel or a hunter.
She prayed, and Castiel can't deny that part of him was moved. ]
Drink. You will get more if more is what you need.