Castiel and the Phantom of the Opera [Destiel]

Chapter 10: All I Ask of You

          Castiel and Sam sprinted out of the dressing room. Sam led the way as they rushed back to the stage. Castiel ran along behind him, Dean’s rose still clutched in his hand. His heart was pounding – his blood pulsing wildly through his body in fear. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He couldn’t imagine what had caused the screams that were still coming from the auditorium. They rang in his ears and made his blood chill. Don’t let it be Dean, he thought half in concern for his Angel and half in terror of his actions.

          Sam reached the stage first. He saw the cause and tried to keep Castiel away from it. He grabbed the boy by the shoulders and tried to shove him away from what only could be described as a grisly sight. But Castiel held his ground and shoved past the choreographer. He pushed his way through the crowd until he was at last at the front.

          Benny Lafitte, the stage manager and the man that had been harassing Jessica, was lying limp center stage with a rope noose around his neck.

          “It was him!” someone shouted. “The Phantom of the Opera!”

          “Murderer!”

          “Find him!”

          “No one can find him! He’s a ghost!”

          “Don’t panic!” Zachariah’s voice rose above the rest. “People, stay in your seats! Please! It was an accident! Simply an accident!”

          Castiel could just stare at the corpse. Benny’s pale blue eyes were open wide, and his hands still fastened around the rope that had strangled him. This man was dead – dead at his Angel’s hands. Castiel had known that Dean would fight back against Meta Tronne and the owners, but he never thought that he would kill.

          He had to, Castiel tried to tell himself. He had no choice . . . He had no choice.

          But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was true, he couldn’t. Dean didn’t have to kill this man, so why had he? Had he really killed an innocent man to prove a point? Or had he killed him for the pure joy of killing? Castiel’s mind drifted back to his dream – how the Phantom had treated him, how he had abused him, and how he was more devil than angel. Castiel remembered wondering how two beings so different – on opposite ends of the spectrum – could both be in one man. He is a demon – a phantom, Castiel thought. I know I promised Sam that I would try but . . . how can I possibly love a man that murders innocents? How can I love someone who threatens people? How can I love a . . . monster?

          The moment the thought crossed his mind, he became both ashamed and afraid. He was afraid, and he was ashamed of it. He was ashamed of the fear that he was allowing to poison his thoughts and his feelings for his Angel of Music. The face and the monstrous appearance he could have overcome – he had overcame it – but this darkness . . . The hatred that seemed to be in his heart and the all of the anger – it frightened Castiel.

          What have I gotten myself into?

          He got the overpowering urge to leave. He had to go – get out of there. It felt as if the walls were closing in around him, threatening to suffocate him. He saw an image of the Phantom that had haunted his dreams. Phantom Dean smirked devilishly, his white teeth flashing in the darkness. Phantom Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel and pulled him close until their faces were less than an inch apart. “You belong to me,” he told him in a growly whisper. “You will sing for me.” And then, Phantom Dean’s eyes flashed black. His irises and the whites of his eyes were blotted out until they were completely obsidian.