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Supernatural Fic: Until the Breaking of the Day
So, uh. So today this happened.
With many respectful, grateful, and vaguely apologetic bows in the directions of![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kass, whose amazing SGA Yeshiva AU A Narrow Bridge, and synecdochic, whose excellent Judeo-Christianity 101 apparently collided with this in my brain, resulting in what follows.
Many many thanks tomisspamela for beta and encouragement.
Dean/Castiel. PG-13. 1,357 words.
In which Dean asks an anatomical question, and receives a theological answer.
Until the Breaking of the Day
"So, okay," Dean said. Being in bed with Castiel hadn't gotten him struck by lightning yet, so he might as well take advantage. "Answer me one question."
Castiel opened one eye, then both, and pushed up on one elbow to mirror Dean's position. "I answer all your questions as best I can, Dean."
Dean blinked. That was probably true, actually, though it was still weird, finding the limits of Castiel doing his best. It seemed like a bad sign that they ran into an angel's limits so often.
Still. He had a question, and he was going to ask it.
Dean pointed to his dick. "I came back from Hell without any scars. So why did I come back still cut?"
Castiel blinked and looked down at himself--his vessel--and then at Dean. Dean saw it coming and gritted his teeth right before Castiel reached out and touched him, because his dick might just fall off if he tried to get it up again right now. But Castiel's touch was brief and clinical, and then he met Dean's eyes again and tapped his fingers against Dean's tattoo.
"You came back with this."
"That's... protection," Dean said.
"Yes," Castiel said. "And circumcision is the mark of man's covenant with God."
Dean opened his mouth and closed it. He remembered that, from times spent at Pastor Jim's or in motel rooms, searching through the Bible for all the gruesome and/or sex-related parts (he remembered the part about angels and daughters of men getting it on, too, but he clearly hadn't understood that warning as well as he could have).
"So there is a deal," Dean said, finally.
"In a manner of speaking," Castiel agreed mildly, his fingertip circling idly around Dean's tattoo. "The Lord your God brought you out of the place of torment and slavery; He to be your God, you to be His man. That is your covenant."
Dean stared at his dick. For all that he'd known there was a commandment or two involved, he'd never thought God was that interested in his junk.
"I don't remember actually agreeing to anything," Dean said. Demons at least stated their terms up front. "Then again, I'm not sure I've been much of God's man so far."
Castiel raised his eyebrows. "Is that what you think? That you have not done all that was desired of you?"
Dean froze. His dad had done this sometimes, after a hunt: asked him whether he was satisfied with the job he'd done, whether he thought he could have done that better. Sometimes the lesson had been to be satisfied with a win however they got it, and sometimes the lesson had been that he'd fucked up and had to get it right next time, but his dad always asked in the same tone of voice, the one Castiel was using right now.
"I argue with you a lot," Dean offered.
Castiel nodded. "And due to the urgency of the situation I am often impatient when you do. But arguing with God is part of the human tradition, as long as there has been a covenant. Men chosen by God have always struggled with Him."
Dean remembered, vaguely, somebody bargaining with God somewhere in the vicinity of the Sodom and Gomorrah story (gruesome and sex-related--he'd read that one plenty of times). But he couldn't claim to have been bargaining for anybody's lives when he fought with Castiel--mostly he just fought to fight, the way Sam had fought with their dad.
Castiel sighed, and shifted back from Dean; in the space that opened up between them on the bed, the Gideon Bible was lying there like it had been there the whole time.
Dean sincerely hoped that the Gideon Bible hadn't been lying there the whole time. Even if he was fucking an angel, there were limits.
Castiel sat up, paging through the Bible, and Dean sat up next to him, just in time for Castiel to place the open book in Dean's hands. "Read."
Castiel's finger was on the page, marking the spot, and though Castiel obviously knew the words from memory, Dean read out loud, following Castiel's finger as it moved across the page.
"Then Jacob was left alone; and a Man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day. Now when He saw that He did not prevail against him, He touched the socket of his hip--"
Castiel's hand touched Dean's shoulder, settling flat over the scar, and Dean had a hallucinatory flash of memory-or-something--the moment he'd never been able to remember or imagine. The moment when Castiel had come for him.
He'd fought against the thing that grabbed him, resisted being taken from his horrible work--because he was so sure the next thing would be worse, and because this was the deal. He had to do what he'd promised to do, even if he'd promised a demon. The hand that grabbed him had burned him to the bone, forcing him to come along no matter how he struggled.
Castiel's grip was like iron now, and his finger kept moving across the page. Dean kept reading. "And the socket of Jacob's hip was out of joint as He wrestled with him. And He said, 'Let me go, for the day breaks.'"
As Dean read what the other, capital-H He, had said, Castiel murmured something in his ear, ancient-sounding foreign words. They didn't line up exactly with what Dean was reading, but they made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He knew Castiel was saying exactly what He had said, thousands of years ago, to a man named Jacob who fought the thing that came after him in the dark and wound up in the Bible.
There were moments when Dean sort of halfway forgot what it meant, that Castiel was an angel--especially when they were naked together. And then there were moments like this, when he wanted nothing but to get down on his knees and beg for mercy from this incomprehensible being.
But Castiel was holding him still on the bed, and Castiel's finger kept moving across the page. "But he said, 'I will not let You go unless You bless me!' So He said to him--" Dean was ready for it this time, and managed to keep his reaction down to a shiver when Castiel joined in.
"'What is your name?' He said, 'Jacob.' And He said, 'You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel'--"
That time, for that one word, Israel from Dean's mouth and Yisrael from Castiel's, they matched up, voices tracking each other. Dean's breath failed, and he couldn't have gotten the next word out if his life depended on it.
Castiel's finger stopped moving, and he took the book from Dean's hands and said again in his mildest holy tax accountant voice, "Which means, God-fighter. The nation of God's chosen people is named for the man who fought all night with God and refused to give up. You're not so different; God's chosen are mostly like you, fighters. That doesn't change when they get chosen."
Dean frowned. "But you--your vessel, you said he asked."
"Ah," Castiel said, and turned his suddenly-empty hands palm-up. "Well. There are those who come to God with their hearts open, saying Thy will be done, and His will is done through them. They are loved, and used."
"And then," Castiel said, covering Dean's hands with his, "there are those who God comes upon in some dark place and takes for His own, no matter how they resist Him--"
Dean caught on a second too late, and started struggling only after Castiel's hands closed on his wrists; he hit the bed with Castiel on top of him, and Castiel just kept talking as Dean pushed up against him.
"The ones who do His will but never stop struggling--"
Castiel touched his forehead to Dean's, and spoke against his lips, his hands locked on Dean's wrists and his whole body straining to hold Dean down. "To them God gives the honor of a reply."
Genesis 32:24-28 in the New King James Version
With many respectful, grateful, and vaguely apologetic bows in the directions of
kass, whose amazing SGA Yeshiva AU A Narrow Bridge, and synecdochic, whose excellent Judeo-Christianity 101 apparently collided with this in my brain, resulting in what follows.Many many thanks to
misspamela for beta and encouragement.Dean/Castiel. PG-13. 1,357 words.
In which Dean asks an anatomical question, and receives a theological answer.
Until the Breaking of the Day
"So, okay," Dean said. Being in bed with Castiel hadn't gotten him struck by lightning yet, so he might as well take advantage. "Answer me one question."
Castiel opened one eye, then both, and pushed up on one elbow to mirror Dean's position. "I answer all your questions as best I can, Dean."
Dean blinked. That was probably true, actually, though it was still weird, finding the limits of Castiel doing his best. It seemed like a bad sign that they ran into an angel's limits so often.
Still. He had a question, and he was going to ask it.
Dean pointed to his dick. "I came back from Hell without any scars. So why did I come back still cut?"
Castiel blinked and looked down at himself--his vessel--and then at Dean. Dean saw it coming and gritted his teeth right before Castiel reached out and touched him, because his dick might just fall off if he tried to get it up again right now. But Castiel's touch was brief and clinical, and then he met Dean's eyes again and tapped his fingers against Dean's tattoo.
"You came back with this."
"That's... protection," Dean said.
"Yes," Castiel said. "And circumcision is the mark of man's covenant with God."
Dean opened his mouth and closed it. He remembered that, from times spent at Pastor Jim's or in motel rooms, searching through the Bible for all the gruesome and/or sex-related parts (he remembered the part about angels and daughters of men getting it on, too, but he clearly hadn't understood that warning as well as he could have).
"So there is a deal," Dean said, finally.
"In a manner of speaking," Castiel agreed mildly, his fingertip circling idly around Dean's tattoo. "The Lord your God brought you out of the place of torment and slavery; He to be your God, you to be His man. That is your covenant."
Dean stared at his dick. For all that he'd known there was a commandment or two involved, he'd never thought God was that interested in his junk.
"I don't remember actually agreeing to anything," Dean said. Demons at least stated their terms up front. "Then again, I'm not sure I've been much of God's man so far."
Castiel raised his eyebrows. "Is that what you think? That you have not done all that was desired of you?"
Dean froze. His dad had done this sometimes, after a hunt: asked him whether he was satisfied with the job he'd done, whether he thought he could have done that better. Sometimes the lesson had been to be satisfied with a win however they got it, and sometimes the lesson had been that he'd fucked up and had to get it right next time, but his dad always asked in the same tone of voice, the one Castiel was using right now.
"I argue with you a lot," Dean offered.
Castiel nodded. "And due to the urgency of the situation I am often impatient when you do. But arguing with God is part of the human tradition, as long as there has been a covenant. Men chosen by God have always struggled with Him."
Dean remembered, vaguely, somebody bargaining with God somewhere in the vicinity of the Sodom and Gomorrah story (gruesome and sex-related--he'd read that one plenty of times). But he couldn't claim to have been bargaining for anybody's lives when he fought with Castiel--mostly he just fought to fight, the way Sam had fought with their dad.
Castiel sighed, and shifted back from Dean; in the space that opened up between them on the bed, the Gideon Bible was lying there like it had been there the whole time.
Dean sincerely hoped that the Gideon Bible hadn't been lying there the whole time. Even if he was fucking an angel, there were limits.
Castiel sat up, paging through the Bible, and Dean sat up next to him, just in time for Castiel to place the open book in Dean's hands. "Read."
Castiel's finger was on the page, marking the spot, and though Castiel obviously knew the words from memory, Dean read out loud, following Castiel's finger as it moved across the page.
"Then Jacob was left alone; and a Man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day. Now when He saw that He did not prevail against him, He touched the socket of his hip--"
Castiel's hand touched Dean's shoulder, settling flat over the scar, and Dean had a hallucinatory flash of memory-or-something--the moment he'd never been able to remember or imagine. The moment when Castiel had come for him.
He'd fought against the thing that grabbed him, resisted being taken from his horrible work--because he was so sure the next thing would be worse, and because this was the deal. He had to do what he'd promised to do, even if he'd promised a demon. The hand that grabbed him had burned him to the bone, forcing him to come along no matter how he struggled.
Castiel's grip was like iron now, and his finger kept moving across the page. Dean kept reading. "And the socket of Jacob's hip was out of joint as He wrestled with him. And He said, 'Let me go, for the day breaks.'"
As Dean read what the other, capital-H He, had said, Castiel murmured something in his ear, ancient-sounding foreign words. They didn't line up exactly with what Dean was reading, but they made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He knew Castiel was saying exactly what He had said, thousands of years ago, to a man named Jacob who fought the thing that came after him in the dark and wound up in the Bible.
There were moments when Dean sort of halfway forgot what it meant, that Castiel was an angel--especially when they were naked together. And then there were moments like this, when he wanted nothing but to get down on his knees and beg for mercy from this incomprehensible being.
But Castiel was holding him still on the bed, and Castiel's finger kept moving across the page. "But he said, 'I will not let You go unless You bless me!' So He said to him--" Dean was ready for it this time, and managed to keep his reaction down to a shiver when Castiel joined in.
"'What is your name?' He said, 'Jacob.' And He said, 'You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel'--"
That time, for that one word, Israel from Dean's mouth and Yisrael from Castiel's, they matched up, voices tracking each other. Dean's breath failed, and he couldn't have gotten the next word out if his life depended on it.
Castiel's finger stopped moving, and he took the book from Dean's hands and said again in his mildest holy tax accountant voice, "Which means, God-fighter. The nation of God's chosen people is named for the man who fought all night with God and refused to give up. You're not so different; God's chosen are mostly like you, fighters. That doesn't change when they get chosen."
Dean frowned. "But you--your vessel, you said he asked."
"Ah," Castiel said, and turned his suddenly-empty hands palm-up. "Well. There are those who come to God with their hearts open, saying Thy will be done, and His will is done through them. They are loved, and used."
"And then," Castiel said, covering Dean's hands with his, "there are those who God comes upon in some dark place and takes for His own, no matter how they resist Him--"
Dean caught on a second too late, and started struggling only after Castiel's hands closed on his wrists; he hit the bed with Castiel on top of him, and Castiel just kept talking as Dean pushed up against him.
"The ones who do His will but never stop struggling--"
Castiel touched his forehead to Dean's, and spoke against his lips, his hands locked on Dean's wrists and his whole body straining to hold Dean down. "To them God gives the honor of a reply."
Genesis 32:24-28 in the New King James Version
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*cracks up* And that's a great ending.
(Are there Christian kids who don't at some point go through the Bible looking for sex and violence? I hope not.)
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And, surely, any kid who's ever been stuck somewhere (like... Church) with nothing but a Bible for entertainment has done that. I mean, logically. *g*
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*giggles*
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Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed this! :)
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I've been avoiding SPN fic because I haven't had time to watch past 4.10, but I figured I could take a chance on this one, and I think I'm in love with your brain. Between SPN and Kings (poor, almost-cancelled Kings) I am getting way more out my religious education than I have in a while.
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Thank you! I wasn't sure other people would be interested in the theological side, so I'm glad this worked for you.
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This made me LOL!
Oh, I deeply loved this piece. I'm a Hebrew Bible fan, as it happens, and I think this was absolutely brilliant.
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"(he remembered the part about angels and daughters of men getting it on, too, but he clearly hadn't understood that warning as well as he could have)."
because that's just brilliant.
I love the parallels you make with Dean and God/Castiel with Dean and his father, with questions and tones of voice and what Dean's done in relation to Sam, who fought his dad but was floored by the idea of angels.
"Dean sincerely hoped that the Gideon Bible hadn't been lying there the whole time. Even if he was fucking an angel, there were limits. "
Glee. As is the glee at him being told to read the thing, because being told to read anything in that setting is just so highly sensual it's gorgeous. It's a beautiful passage, as well. I don't know much scripture, to be honest, but there is a beauty in it.
Also, speaking of sensual: "Castiel murmured something in his ear, ancient-sounding foreign words.". /gorgeous/. So is this: "Israel from Dean's mouth and Yisrael from Castiel's, they matched up, voices tracking each other"
The last line is beautiful too. So is all of this. Wonderfully written, with a quiet resonance.
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Plus also, blasphemous sex. AWESOME.
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