Finding Faith [Destiel Love Story]

Chapter 8

The room went still. Quiet. Eerie. Castiel was the only other person there, yet Dean still felt the need to look around and make sure that they really were alone. He turned to look at the bed first, but the sudden movement in his neck rattled the rest of his body, reminding him he'd been injured during the fight. A pathetically high-pitched cry escaped him. His breaths were forced to become shallow and short for the stinging to go back to a dull throb.

Castiel turned to him, crouching down and resting a hand on his cheek. "I can help you," he said.

"What?"

Castiel moved to place his fingers on Dean's forehead. Just like that, all of the pain he'd felt completely faded away. Dean huffed, looking at the angel with wide eyes.

"Jesus, Cas, is there anything you can't do?"

"Yes."

Dean snickered, shaking his head.

With the help of Castiel, Dean got to his feet. It took him a minute to steady himself. Going from completely in pain to feeling greater than great was kind of intense. Either way, Castiel's ability to patch someone up good as knew was a damn good thing to know.

The angel frowned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. What did you do?"

"I healed you."

"No, I mean what did you do to that thing?"

"Oh. I sent it to a wooded area north of here. It should be confused and disoriented right now. I," he paused. "I couldn't kill it just by touching it."

"You couldn't kill it?" Dean scoffed. "Well, if a freaking angel can't kill something..."

"It's not invincible," Castiel assured him. "Now that I've touched it, I understand what it is. We can get rid of it."

"Well, what the hell is it?"

"A tulpa."

"A tulpa?"

"Yes."

"Who's the bastard that made it?"

"The pneuma fingerprints left behind belonged to Lucille Zanetti."

Dean openly stared at him. "I'm sorry – what? A seven year old girl was actually able to conjure that thing into reality?"

"She was very well-educated. Very in tune with her spiritual surroundings."

With the furrowed eyebrows, wide eyes, scrunched nose, it was evident that Dean still wasn't so convinced about who the culprit really was. In his mind it had to be Sebastian Foley. That was the only thing that actually made sense, because how could a little girl want her father to die so badly she was able to create her own supernatural being to kill him? How could a child even think with such darkness, let alone turn it into a reality?

Castiel pressed his lips into a thin line, watching Dean for a moment. Then, slowly, the angel relaxed his features. "We're lucky it wasn't something else," he said. "I know it's easier for you to believe that Sebastian did it, but you have to trust me."

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The sketches were horrible, even for a seven year old. Messy, unsteady lines were continuously drawn over each other, making it much thicker and darker than necessary. If it weren't for the helpful labels pointing to each section then Dean wouldn't even be able to tell if those were the pictures he was supposed to be destroying or not.

"You're sure they won't wake up?" Dean asked, turning to Castiel.

The angel nodded. "Yes."

Shrugging, Dean looked back down at the papers in his hand. He had found five drawings of the same creature in the living room alone, while Castiel found ten in Lucille's bedroom. They had searched the entire household and were sure that there were only fifteen drawings. The materialization process should cease and the creature should no longer exist in physical form.