[ 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.
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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.