Imagine you (reader) are Lucifer’s little sister and flee to Castiel for help once the Apocalypse starts
A/N: Not exactly what she asked for, but the prompt was really open so I just went for it. (I don’t own SPN)
Fanqueen13 asks: “Imagine reader is Lucifer’s sister”
The ground flew beneath your feet as you ran, wet dirt kicked up by your heels as you glided past. Your breath was coming quick, pain shooting through your body. Unaccustomed to your new form, you struggled to outrun your pursuers.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a black shadow dart past. Gasping, you stumbled to a stop, hands pushing off the rough bark of a large tree to propell you in the opposite direction. Howls met your ears, and your eyes filled with tears as you thought of how your brother could do this to you.
You had gone to him humbly after your pleads to Michael fell upon deaf ears. On your knees, you begged him to stop, to leave the Chosen Ones alone and to end what he was starting, what he and Michael were starting together. But your older brother would have none of it. You had started to cry, started to scream. “Lucifer, please!” you had sobbed. “They’re helpless! The humans are supposed to be protected! Father told us to protect them-”
“Father was wrong!” Lucifer roared in reply. “And you are wrong, little sister… Leave before I make you leave.”
That was where your mistake laid. You stood, reaching out for your brother.
And now you were being chased by his demon hounds.
Claws lunged out, tagging your calf and making you screech in pain. You threw an arm out to push the hound away, but it merely caught onto your wrist with razor-sharp fangs. “GAH!” you screamed, another hound grabbing at your leg. Flesh tore from bone as you shrieked and pleaded, begging for help. “אחים! אחיות! עזור לי!” flew the words from your lips, your native tongue searching for assistance even so near death.
Just as your vision began to go black, a bright light appeared in front of you. The hounds feasting upon your body howled in pain and scampered off, tails between their legs. A warm, calloused hand touched your cheek, and you looked up into bright and concerned blue eyes. “(Y/N),” came the vaguely familiar voice. “תישאר איתי, אחותי קטנה … להישאר ער, בבקשה…”
You passed into unconsciousness.
“What the hell are we supposed to do with her, Cas?! She’s- what- thirteen? Fourteen?”
The voices that greeted your ears were harsh and gruff, low in tone but high in stress.
“Her vessel is young, but it represents her grace. She’s not fully grown-”
“Oh, so we’ve got a baby angel on our hands. Just frickin’ great.”
“Dean, calm down-”
“You calm down! We don’t have time for this! The frickin’ apocalypse is now! Now, Sam! We can’t be taking time off to babysit-”
You blinked, trying to focus on something. The bright lights were harsh, making you groan, a hand lifting to cover your face. The voices suddenly quieted into whispers, and you felt a dip in the mattress you were sitting on. The lights dimmed, and a hand clasped around your wrist gently.
“It’s alright, (Y/N),” came the same familiar voice from earlier.
You groaned, blinking against what little light was left in the room as your vision came to focus. You ached all over, an unfamiliar sensation, and your head was throbbing. In the room- a small, odd place with two large beds, a kitchen, and a television all in the same space- stood two very large men. One had short hair shaven close on the sides, freckles dotting his face and a stern scowl upon his lips. The other had long, dark hair and a gentle, pitying smile. “The Chosen Ones…” you whispered quietly, turning to the man sitting next to you. “C-Cassiel!” you exclaimed happily upon sensing the familiar grace that enveloped you, lurching forward to hug your brother’s vessel. Cassiel smiled and hugged you gently, stroking your hair.
“אחות קטנה, איך אתה מרגיש?” he asked, pulling you back so he could look into your eyes.
”, אבל הגוף שלי עדיין טובים יותר חלש … “ you replied.
“Uh, Cas?” voiced the larger of the Chosen Ones, the man with the long hair and the tattered soul. “No offense, but could you guys speak English? Or, at least, not Enochian?”
“It’s Hebrew,” you corrected instantly. “Enochian is impossible for human ears to handle, even the ears of vessels. Which is why we speak Hebrew.”
“Why did you call him Cassiel?” the stern-faced Chosen One asked, to which you frowned.
“That is his name. Cassiel of November, Angel of the Lord,” you replied.
Cassiel touched your shoulder, and you looked to him. “I go by Castiel now, (Y/N). It is for… personal reasons.” His expression hardened. “Enough of this, though, (Y/N), why were you in the forest? And why were the Hellhounds trying to kill you?”
You glanced over at the Chosen Ones, shifting closer to your brother to feel his warmth and protection. Sensing your discomfort, Castiel reached an arm around your shoulders and held you close, nodding to the Chosen Ones. “These men are Sam and Dean Winchester.”
“I know…” you said quietly, eyeing each of them. “Their reputation precedes them…”
Sam sat down on the corner of the bed, reaching out to touch your hand. You flinched, but relaxed when you realized his hands were large and warm, very similar to your brother Lucifer’s, long, long before his fall. “Uh, (Y/N), is it?” You nodded. He smiled. “Are you… okay? You were pretty torn up when Cas brought you here… Sure you’re feeling okay? We can talk later about-”
“Or we can talk now,” Dean snapped, whirling a chair around in front of him and straddling it backwards. His glare was fixated on you, and you pulled away from Sam with a gasp, clinging to Castiel. Said angel frowned at Dean and hugged you tightly, kissing your temple and whispering softly to you in Hebrew. Sam and Dean exchanged a few harsh whispers before you faced them again, looking to Sam with wet eyes.
“I’m sorry, (Y/n), but Dean’s right. Cas says whatever happened to you is important, so we need to know what it was.”
Snuggling deeper into your brother’s embrace, you felt his wings surround you and hold you close, just as Lucifer had done for him many a year ago. You knew humans couldn’t see your wings- even the Chosen Ones- but they were still a great comfort to you. Castiel’s wings were much larger than yours, made of a sleek black feather that he had been teased for in Heaven, called the black sheep and said that he would be the first to fall. On the contrary, it was your brother Lucifer, with his three pairs of stark white wings with golden flecks dotting them like stars, who was the first to fall. He had stepped away, past the white clouds of your home, past the bronze streets and golden statues and over the edge of the precipiece, his feathers floating downwards behind him.
“I went to Michael,” you said softly, looking at your lap. You felt Castiel stiffen behind you, and you wrapped your wings around his back, under where his protruded. He gave a low purr in his chest, one that was so quiet only you could hear it. “I- I begged him to stop, begged him not to carry on with the Apocalypse… He refused, so I- I went to Lucifer.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean chucked mirthlessly, eyes fixed on you. “You know where Lucifer and Michael are? And you didn’t gank their asses?!”
“They’re my brothers!” you objected.
“Sorry, kid,” Sam said with a rising agitation of his own, “but your brothers are trying to end the world.”
“I know!” you shouted at them, tears welling up. “Which is why I went to them! Why I begged, pleaded on my knees for them to stop! They- they wouldn’t listen,” you felt the tears begin to drip down your cheeks, and you breath hitched. Castiel’s wings tightened around you, and you dug your fingers into his shirt. “Lucifer- he- he- he sent hounds after me. Hounds of Hell. He- he was my old teacher, my friend, my brother-” your breathy gasps turned to sobs, and Castiel brought your face to his chest. He said something to the Chosen Ones, which you didn’t hear over your own tears, and you heard the door open and close.
“Ssh, (Y/N),” Castiel whispered, rocking you back and forth. He crooned to you in Hebrew, his hands roaming your wings, stroking them as he tried to consol you the only way he knew how.
The touch to your wings warmed your heart, but your soul was still cracked. Eyes dripping with tears, you looked up when Castiel said your name again gently. You gasped when the soft blue light of his grace met your eyes, its tendrils wrapping around the two of you and offering healing to your soul. Finally, you relaxed into Castiel’s arms, your own grace, a dim orange bulb, dancing around your heads.
“Rest now, sister,” Castiel spoke to you. “Your vessel is weak still…”
Your hold tightened on his shirt, another hand flying out to grasp the feathers closest to you. “No! Don’t leave me, Cassiel,” you hissed, tears beginning anew.
“I won’t leave you, (Y/N),” he replied, lying down with you on his chest. “Relax. We’ll speak more when you are healed… Rest, (Y/N)…”
Closing your eyes, you allowed the warmth of wings and graces to lull your vessel into a deep slumber.
TRANSLATIONS (i used googletranslate so p dont hate me):
“אחים! אחיות! עזור לי!”
“Brothers! Sisters! Help me!”
“תישאר איתי, אחותי קטנה … להישאר ער, בבקשה…”
“Stay with me, my little sister… Stay awake, please…”
“אחות קטנה, איך אתה מרגיש?”
“Little sister, how do you feel?”
“, אבל הגוף שלי עדיין טובים יותר חלש … “
It’s supposed to be “Better, but my vessel is still weak,” but I couldn’t figure out how to get that translation right so f*ck it.
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