fandomtownies | Our Lady of Fandom, Friday

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castiel

Our Lady of Fandom, Friday

Angelbane had come in late the night before to find out why her person wasn't falling over himself to feed her as usual. She jumped up onto the altar to sniff at the browning apples, then noticed the little plastic thing.

There was only one conclusion to draw.

CAT TOY!

That would be why, today, Angelbane was rolling around on the floor in front of the pews with Castiel clutched between her claws, then flinging him up into the air to chase after him wherever he may land. She got a particularly good fling in, sending him up and over the altar and into a bowl of holy water and went pouncing off after him -- only to screech in horror and go scurrying into hiding when her wonderful toy turned back into a full-sized angel.

Castiel fell out of the holy water font, then pushed himself up to his feet, not bothering to straighten his now wet suit or trench coat. He tucked the knife away. Angelbane peered out of hiding and sniffed at him.

"I'm beginning to dislike this island," he said.

Angelbane slouched out of her hiding place and demanded food.

[ooc: We slowed down again, yay! The church is, as always, open.]

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Since talking to Arthur this morning, Chuck had gotten increasingly paranoid that someone would do something weird to the Castiel doll. It was one of the downsides to having an overactive imagination (though, oddly enough, cat toy didn't cross his mind). So he went down to the church the first chance he got to check up on it.

"Oh good, you're back to normal," he said, looking relieved. "And wet for some reason."

Castiel glanced down at his clothes. "Yes. I landed in the holy water."

Angelbane made a beeline for Chuck, meowing at the tops of her little lungs. Maybe he would give her something other than brown apples?

Please, Chuck couldn't even feed himself without help. No way he had food for a cat.

He did crouch down to pet the cat though because it was there and all. "What, did you fall in or something?"

"I'm not certain." He flicked some water from his sleeve. "But I suppose it's likely."

Chuck smirked. "If landing in holy water was the worst thing to happen to you while you were a toy then consider yourself lucky."

Because Chuck had thought of way worse things that could have happened.

Castiel sighed. "You may well be right. Apparently, that particular sermon was not one that was meant to be given."

"There is the chance that the island just randomly decided to mess with you and it had nothing to do with the sermon at all," Chuck said. "I ate some of your apples, by the way."

"I thought perhaps there were less." Castiel looked back toward the altar. "I suspect the rest might not be good to eat, any more."

"Yeah, they're probably pretty gross by now," Chuck said. "Now that I think about it, it probably wasn't the smartest move to eat those apples. That could have been what turned you into a doll."

For someone so smart Chuck possessed an incredible lack of foresight sometimes.

"No, I didn't get any further than cutting them." Though, he supposed, Chuck had clearly figured that out when he hadn't turned into a doll. "Though I do wonder if they were involved."

"Apples do seem to be the downfall of a lot of people," Chuck said. He didn't actually think the apples had to do with this though. He just thought the island didn't like Castiel.

The feeling, at this point, would be mutual.

"It's said they were the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. I haven't seen any evidence of those eating them knowing more, though."

"They're also supposed to keep you from getting sick too but I think that's wrong as well," he said. "I'm pretty sure they're just fruit."

Castiel nodded very seriously. "That's unfortunate. Humans seem to sicken rather easily."

"It's part of that whole mortal thing," Chuck said with a shrug. "It's unavoidable."

"I'm honestly not certain how you deal with it."

"Um...mostly I sleep a lot when I get sick," he said. "But I've never been, like, seriously ill so I'm not exactly sure how people deal with that sort of thing either."

Chuck was kind of a whiner when he was sick so it was probably for the best that he didn't get sick that often.

"Sleeping," Castiel said. "You do that a lot, too."

That was a general 'you' of course. Not that Castiel had quite mastered making such things clear.

"Well if I don't do it I'm pretty sure I'll die," Chuck pointed out. He didn't know the science of that, exactly, but he knew he needed to sleep. "And I enjoy doing it."

"Why? You're essentially useless for eight hours of the day."

Chuck felt he was useless for more than eight hours of the day but he wasn't about to insult himself like that out loud.

"Because it's...it's just nice," Chuck said, not really sure how to explain it. "Dreaming's awesome."

"But sometimes what you dream is disturbing." Castiel felt he understood dreams, and again spoke as though Chuck represented his entire species. "Dean especially, in my world, dreamed some very bad things."

"Well from what I've heard the Dean in your world has been through some serious shit. I'm not surprised he has nightmares," Chuck said. "Normally those don't happen often. Most of the time dreams are good. Or totally weird. But still good."

Castiel had definitely concluded, based on his experience with Dean's dreams, that most people suffered nightmares most of the time. He blinked when Chuck said differently.

". . . Weird?"

"Like, okay, this one time I had this dream where Sam and I were shopping in Vancouver and for some reason he was wearing women's clothing the entire time," Chuck said. "It didn't make any sense. I'd never shop in Vancouver."

Castiel frowned.

The odd part of that was Vancouver?

"So the Sam here does wear women's clothing?"

"No. Well, I don't think so. That part was weird too, I guess," Chuck said. "But you see what I mean about weird dreams, right? They're not bad, just not anything that would happen in real life."

"And is this a frequent theme for your dreams?"

"Cross dressing and shopping? No. I mean, Sam's in my dreams a lot but then again so are you, Dean and people I know in New York," he said. One time Deadpool was in there and, no, Chuck didn't want to go what happened then. "What happens in the dreams changes a lot. There's not really a theme."

"I've never visited your dreams," Castiel argued. He was rather certain that was right. He hadn't been dream walking in quite some time.

"It's not really you," Chuck explained. "It's my subconscious' view of you."

"Do I wear women's clothing in your dreams as well?"

"No, most of the time you're in what you're wearing now." He was a lot sluttier in Chuck's head, however. Then again everyone was.

"I would be curious to see how your subconscious imagines me."

Chuck's eyes widened slightly. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

Castiel shook his head. "Why not?"

"Because I don't have control of what I dream about and there's some things I don't want you knowing," he said. "And I think if you really thought about it, you would come to the conclusion that you don't want to know what's going on in my head either."

"We've always had perfectly civil conversations."

"Yeah, I know that. But there's a difference between real life and dreams," Chuck said. "In my head people do and say things they normally wouldn't in real life. That's the fun with dreams; things that would never happen in real life actually happen. And let's just say you probably wouldn't want to see what direction some of my dreams take."

"Now you have me concerned."

"Don't be," Chuck said. "It's all in my head. That's it."

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