[spn fic] gimme toro, gimme some more
Title: gimme toro, gimme some more
Author: azkaban_hunter
Characters: Castiel mostly, Dean, Sam, Bobby, Adam, Lucifer, and Michael
Pairings: None, Dean/Castiel if you squint
Rating: PG-13 for fighting and allusions to torture.
Word Count: 883
Warnings: Allusions to torture.
Notes: More fic for the Demon!Castiel verse, the first two of which are See Black and Your Eyes. This explains how Castiel became a demon :3
When Castiel had first found Dean, his soul had been twisted. Much like how Sam's soul would appear to Castiel when he first met the younger Winchester, Dean's time in Hell had twisted something Castiel knew as gorgeous to something repulsive.
His first act upon escaping the Pit was not to rest, or search for Dean's body, but to plunge his insubstantial hands into the threads of Dean's soul and unweave the taint from it. It had diminished him to do it, but he had managed, and soon his charge's soul was as bright and pure as it had been when it was born.
Castiel had scars on his hands, black lines burned into his Grace, and later on his vessel that only he could see. But it was a necessary sacrifice.
*
Nearly two years later, not a very long time for Castiel, he thought he could see those same lines threading their way through Dean's soul again. After so long seeing Dean's soul remain pure, it had enraged him. All his work, everything he'd given up, for this?
When he'd grabbed Dean, thrown him against the wall, he'd wished that he still had the power to reach into Dean's soul and tear the threads out again.
*
When he called Dean, he lied. He swore he could almost feel the cracking of what remained of his Grace, but he did. He still had some power. Not much, only a little, enough to let him hear the faint whispers of his brothers and sisters, but he had it. He didn't intend to waste it on finding his way to the Winchesters (though he spent some to make his way to Pestilence faster, admittedly). He would save it. For what, he didn't know.
*
He knew as soon as he and Bobby arrived in Stull what that power would be used for.
“Stay here,” he'd ordered Bobby, who had given him a look.
“And why the hell should I?” he'd asked, and Castiel had turned, summoning up the tattered remains of his Grace. It was enough for Bobby to feel, to make his hairs stand on end.
“Because I said so,” he'd growled, feeling almost as powerful as he'd used to be, before he'd vanished.
*
Michael (Adam) and Lucifer (Sam) were having a field day with Dean. The elder Winchester was badly hurt, but alive, pleading with Sam to regain control.
It pained Castiel to wait, but he had to have faith; faith that was rewarded when Sam backed off, and then looked to Adam. Castiel could feel the difference, the terrifying power of Lucifer's mangled Grace receding and leaving only Sam, damaged as he was. It took only a twitch of Castiel's hands to bring the rings to himself, and when Sam grabbed Adam and reached into his pockets, his face went wide with shock when he found them missing.
“What are you doing?” Adam/Michael demanded, voice harsh. That was Castiel's cue to appear, tossing the rings down and, summoning the last of his power, plunged his ethereal hands into Sam and Adam's bodies.
“This,” he had said bluntly, and then ripped Michael and Lucifer out of their vessels and, clutching them to his chest, stepped back into the Cage.
He thought he heard Dean scream his name.
*
He thought he'd be essentially human in Hell, having used the last of his power to fuel his one-man stand. He was wrong.
Michael was furious, as was Lucifer, and between the two of them the brothers that had eternally feuded bonded over pumping Castiel full of Archangel and Fallen Grace, laughing at his screams when the two polar opposite energies merged in the empty shell of his Grace.
It gave them more to work with, more to tear at. More Grace for Lucifer to rake his claws across, for Michael to pull and twist at, to pull pieces of it off like so many leaves off of a tree. Castiel curled up, tried not to let it affect him, but he failed. He wondered if he'd lasted longer than Dean already or not.
He was sure it wouldn't have hurt as much if he was really human.
It felt very human of him to hope that Dean and Sam would find a way to retrieve him.
*
It turned out that Lucifer wasn't on good terms with Michael after all. Michael was cut off from Heaven, while Lucifer regained energy by being in Hell. By sharing Castiel and letting the Archangel heal him, he was letting Michael drain himself.
Castiel woke up after many decades to find Michael pinned by his wings to the wall, and Lucifer had turned to him with a smile as bright as his namesake (Morningstar) and offered him a blade. Where he'd gotten it, Castiel didn't know, but even as Michael screamed at him to stand down, that's an order Castiel, he'd taken it and realized it was made of bone, smoothed and sharpened.
“How'd you like to give back a little of the pain he gave you, Castiel?” Lucifer had asked, all low tones and promise.
The first time Castiel turned his wrath onto Michael he was too busy to notice the sharp, dark lines of taint that wound themselves through the Grace that the two angels had given him.
By the time his eyes were black, he found he no longer cared.