[ Apparently, Dean is capable of making this encounter even more frustrating than it already is. The name's obviously a reference to something, obvious nothing like the name he gave for Dean to use, and Castiel's eyes narrow at the slight, before widening and lifting to the Heavens to ask God for help. Why this, why him, why this test? Castiel sighs. ]
You're right.
[ He finally agrees, dropping his head to look at Dean again, though there's a hardness to his eyes, and a new looseness to his shoulders. ]
I can't afford to make a stupid decision.
[ Which, Castiel knows, is to leave Dean now that he's found him. If he drove off now after finding Dean, and any of the community became aware of it, he would be killed. Not finding Dean is one thing, but returning home without him, or finding him after their months of efforts, only to allow him to leave... Castiel would be killed. Of that he's sure, which makes his decision now, to capture Dean or die trying, the obvious one.
If he reaches for the gun holstered against his breast, he'd be shot immediately. Castiel isn't stupid enough to underestimate Dean's reflexes. Instead he turns slightly, as if to walk back towards his car, and then he strikes, sliding the blade from his coat sleeve and throwing it in Dean's direction. Whether it lands or not doesn't matter. It's a distraction, and Castiel uses that moment of surprise to unholster his gun and shoot repeatedly at Dean: at his arms, his legs, or anywhere obviously extended and non-vital.
If he hits Dean's car in the process or if his own is hit in the return fire, it's not Castiel's concern. He isn't sparing any ammo or running away from this fight. He moves towards Dean as he fires instead not away, unblinking, with all the fearlessness of someone who isn't afraid of being shot back, injured, or killed. His life's meaning is in this moment. Apprehending Dean and bringing him home alive is Castiel's only goal. ]
no subject
You're right.
[ He finally agrees, dropping his head to look at Dean again, though there's a hardness to his eyes, and a new looseness to his shoulders. ]
I can't afford to make a stupid decision.
[ Which, Castiel knows, is to leave Dean now that he's found him. If he drove off now after finding Dean, and any of the community became aware of it, he would be killed. Not finding Dean is one thing, but returning home without him, or finding him after their months of efforts, only to allow him to leave... Castiel would be killed. Of that he's sure, which makes his decision now, to capture Dean or die trying, the obvious one.
If he reaches for the gun holstered against his breast, he'd be shot immediately. Castiel isn't stupid enough to underestimate Dean's reflexes. Instead he turns slightly, as if to walk back towards his car, and then he strikes, sliding the blade from his coat sleeve and throwing it in Dean's direction. Whether it lands or not doesn't matter. It's a distraction, and Castiel uses that moment of surprise to unholster his gun and shoot repeatedly at Dean: at his arms, his legs, or anywhere obviously extended and non-vital.
If he hits Dean's car in the process or if his own is hit in the return fire, it's not Castiel's concern. He isn't sparing any ammo or running away from this fight. He moves towards Dean as he fires instead not away, unblinking, with all the fearlessness of someone who isn't afraid of being shot back, injured, or killed. His life's meaning is in this moment. Apprehending Dean and bringing him home alive is Castiel's only goal. ]