SPN Fic: A drop of water in the middle of the desert
Title: A drop of water in the middle of the desert
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: Uh... NC-17 with no sex?
Warnings: Trigger warnings for torture, mind games, and consent issues. Major Cas!whump. Also, unbeta'd.
Spoilers: YES, for everything - basically, if you haven't seen the 5th seasons finale, don't read this.
Words: 1,414
Summary: As punishment for his rebellion, Castiel must spend five day on the rack in Hell without his powers. But he can choose any five days he wants in time.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Notes: Written for prompt "02. Your heart will tear mine apart" in my fictictactoe match with luchia13.
After the final battle against Lucifer, God had revived Castiel for the second time and raised him up to take the position and powers of an Archangel. Castiel was over wrought with relief. His Grace, brighter than ever, felt warm with renewed faith and quirked the lips of his earthly visage upward as Dean dubbed Castiel "the new sheriff in town." Castiel mourned for Sam's loss - not only because Sam had become his friend, but because Sam was everything to Dean.
But Dean was strong, and he had somewhere to go, and Castiel's family (while nothing like what Castiel had learned family could be) needed him. Perhaps some day his family could also learn to depend on one another out of true desire rather than celestial Orders.
Despite the general assumption that God must have been the one to raise Castiel, seeds of doubt had been sown into Heaven's Angels long before the Apocalypse even began. Most of the higher ranking Angels still felt suspicious of Castiel and yearned for vindication from his past betrayal. Many of the brothers and sisters on the lower rungs were eager for their wobbling faith to be confirmed and fortified by Castiel's assurances.
With this dichotomy of support and condemnation, it was decided that Castiel would spend five days in Hell - not as a soldier of righteousness but simply another soul on the rack. However, to lessen the harshness of the punishment (to Raphael's fury since it already seemed like a simple slap on the wrist), Castiel was permitted to determine the days he would be tortured on. The choice would only matter before and after the punishment was over but any situation may become more bearable when one is presented with choices.
And Castiel could choose any day in time: past, present, and future.
During his time on Earth Castiel had realized that in order be an effective leader, you must listen (you must also sometimes stretch the truth). He agreed to this punishment with the resolution that things would definitely be changing upon his return.
Of course he also had ulterior motives.
The first day, how didn't go very far back at all - he chose the end of the End: the day Lucifer was once again trapped inside his cage. At the end of that twenty-four hour period Castiel would retain his full power for one minute in order to escape from the rack and return to Heaven to heal and return immediately.
Castiel gurgled blood from his mouth pitifully through toothless gums as the skin of his belly was peeled away inch by inch for the fourth time. His wings were already torn beyond mutilation. The pain was constant misery that pulsed every other second with an agony that was impossibly (or was it improbably?) even more intense.
Castiel would have considered the fact that on Earth a human body would have numbed completely to the sensations of new pain by this point. Or rather, it would if the human body were able to sustain life through such continuous abuse.
But that was not what was going through Castiel's mind because Castiel was thinking about twenty four hours - one thousand-four-hundred and forty four minutes. Eighty six thousand three hundred and ninety four seconds had passed.
In 6 more seconds, Castiel would drag Sam Winchester (sans Lucifer) from the Pit.
6,
5,
4,
3,
2,
1...
The deepest circle of Hell exploded with light.
-
There are four days left. They are not really enough because Dean was torturing souls for 10 years before Castiel would reach him but they will have to do.
-
On the first day Dean grins at him; his smile is bright but shallow, like the splendour of a magnificent rock formation worn over by the elements and time. There are deep cracks. Dean licks his lips and whistles at the sight of Castiel's wings.
"Well, well, what's a special snowflake like you doing down here?" Dean's eyes glow in the unnatural light. "Bet you're one of the things I used to hunt. Doesn't matter now, though - everyone gets the same treatment down here. Lets start by taking care of that pretty face of yours - don't want to make anyone self-conscious, dress down a little."
Castiel shivers at the genuine excitement he hears in Dean's tone. He is unsettled when he feels the first vestiges of physical excitement spark to life in his own body. Dean must notice it because he licks his lips again, chuckles, and leans in close.
"Bit of a masochist, aren't you? Well then, I guess this is a good place for you. Gotta tell you, buddy, I can't guarantee you'll be so happy with me when we're done, but maybe we should start off right... you got a name?"
Dean casually tears a rusty blade over Castiel's face: across his forehead, his nose, and then down his right cheeks.
Castiel swallows a scream and then grits out: "Castiel." Because he has his pride and, well, it's Dean.
"Castiel, huh? Well, Cas, I know I'm gonna enjoy our day together."
-
At the end of the day Castiel is not excited anymore - it hurts too much - but bizarrely, he did like the feeling of Dean being... well, almost caring in a way. An utterly twisted form of caring, but still: Dean, completely focused on Castiel - his sounds, his body language, his reactions... Yes, it was twisted, but Castiel decided not to think too hard about it for now. He met Dean's eyes - Dean had never cut out his eyes; not once during the whole day.
"Dean Winchester," his voice was raw and nearly unusable. Still he pushed through: "I forgive you. You are a good man."
Castiel had rarely, if ever, seen Dean look so horror-stricken.
-
The next day, Dean tore out Castiel's vocal chords first thing. "Don't you dare try pulling that shit with me, Castiel, don't you dare."
Castiel missed the way Dean had listened carefully to the sounds of his voice the day before. Perhaps Dean missed it too, because when Castiel's body reformed again, Dean didn't turn his attention to the throat immediately.
"I forgive you, Dean. You are worth salvation. You will earn redemption."
Dean howled and flinched away from Castiel as though the words burned him, squeezing his palms against his eyes furiously. It didn't take long for him to regain himself and he met Castiel's eyes with fury and terror burning in his own. "Shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch!"
It took much longer than usual for Castiel's body to be destroyed - Dean didn't use any techniques for maximizing damage or pain. He only beat Castiel until there was nothing left, screaming "shut up" all the while. Castiel had not been able to see Dean through his swollen eyes for a long while, but when Hell healed him he could see that Dean's eyes were raw and red.
-
Dean did not rip out Castiel's vocal chords the next day, but he didn't speak to him either. He systematically rended Castiel's form to pieces, alternating between a dead expression or absent-minded beaming. All day Castiel repeated himself: I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you.
-
It was the fifth day and here in the center of the tempest Castiel wasn't sure if he was more relieved or aggrieved that it was all ending. Dean's time in Hell was technically already over, of course. But right here, right now, it felt like there were still years left for him. Unbearably long years but for the fact that Castiel knew Dean had borne them.
Dean looked absolutely wrecked when he saw that it was Castiel on the rack again, and the man cried out and viciously plunged a blade into Castiel's heart. It was not unlike their first meeting and the angel could not help but smile at the symmetry of it all.
Dean's face crumpled and fell to the nook between Castiel's neck and shoulder. "I can't stop, Cas, I can't. They'll put me back."
Castiel placed his hand on Dean's shoulder where the burnt handprint from his own Grace would some day reside and squeezed. "I know, Dean. It's all right."
Dean shook his head furiously and then stood back, twisting the knife viciously before ripping it out of Castiel.
"It's all right, Dean. You are a good man."
Tears ran swiftly and mingled with Castiel's blood. When it was all said and done, the Archangel would not regret it - not one second.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: Uh... NC-17 with no sex?
Warnings: Trigger warnings for torture, mind games, and consent issues. Major Cas!whump. Also, unbeta'd.
Spoilers: YES, for everything - basically, if you haven't seen the 5th seasons finale, don't read this.
Words: 1,414
Summary: As punishment for his rebellion, Castiel must spend five day on the rack in Hell without his powers. But he can choose any five days he wants in time.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Notes: Written for prompt "02. Your heart will tear mine apart" in my fictictactoe match with luchia13.
After the final battle against Lucifer, God had revived Castiel for the second time and raised him up to take the position and powers of an Archangel. Castiel was over wrought with relief. His Grace, brighter than ever, felt warm with renewed faith and quirked the lips of his earthly visage upward as Dean dubbed Castiel "the new sheriff in town." Castiel mourned for Sam's loss - not only because Sam had become his friend, but because Sam was everything to Dean.
But Dean was strong, and he had somewhere to go, and Castiel's family (while nothing like what Castiel had learned family could be) needed him. Perhaps some day his family could also learn to depend on one another out of true desire rather than celestial Orders.
Despite the general assumption that God must have been the one to raise Castiel, seeds of doubt had been sown into Heaven's Angels long before the Apocalypse even began. Most of the higher ranking Angels still felt suspicious of Castiel and yearned for vindication from his past betrayal. Many of the brothers and sisters on the lower rungs were eager for their wobbling faith to be confirmed and fortified by Castiel's assurances.
With this dichotomy of support and condemnation, it was decided that Castiel would spend five days in Hell - not as a soldier of righteousness but simply another soul on the rack. However, to lessen the harshness of the punishment (to Raphael's fury since it already seemed like a simple slap on the wrist), Castiel was permitted to determine the days he would be tortured on. The choice would only matter before and after the punishment was over but any situation may become more bearable when one is presented with choices.
And Castiel could choose any day in time: past, present, and future.
During his time on Earth Castiel had realized that in order be an effective leader, you must listen (you must also sometimes stretch the truth). He agreed to this punishment with the resolution that things would definitely be changing upon his return.
Of course he also had ulterior motives.
The first day, how didn't go very far back at all - he chose the end of the End: the day Lucifer was once again trapped inside his cage. At the end of that twenty-four hour period Castiel would retain his full power for one minute in order to escape from the rack and return to Heaven to heal and return immediately.
Castiel gurgled blood from his mouth pitifully through toothless gums as the skin of his belly was peeled away inch by inch for the fourth time. His wings were already torn beyond mutilation. The pain was constant misery that pulsed every other second with an agony that was impossibly (or was it improbably?) even more intense.
Castiel would have considered the fact that on Earth a human body would have numbed completely to the sensations of new pain by this point. Or rather, it would if the human body were able to sustain life through such continuous abuse.
But that was not what was going through Castiel's mind because Castiel was thinking about twenty four hours - one thousand-four-hundred and forty four minutes. Eighty six thousand three hundred and ninety four seconds had passed.
In 6 more seconds, Castiel would drag Sam Winchester (sans Lucifer) from the Pit.
6,
5,
4,
3,
2,
1...
The deepest circle of Hell exploded with light.
-
There are four days left. They are not really enough because Dean was torturing souls for 10 years before Castiel would reach him but they will have to do.
-
On the first day Dean grins at him; his smile is bright but shallow, like the splendour of a magnificent rock formation worn over by the elements and time. There are deep cracks. Dean licks his lips and whistles at the sight of Castiel's wings.
"Well, well, what's a special snowflake like you doing down here?" Dean's eyes glow in the unnatural light. "Bet you're one of the things I used to hunt. Doesn't matter now, though - everyone gets the same treatment down here. Lets start by taking care of that pretty face of yours - don't want to make anyone self-conscious, dress down a little."
Castiel shivers at the genuine excitement he hears in Dean's tone. He is unsettled when he feels the first vestiges of physical excitement spark to life in his own body. Dean must notice it because he licks his lips again, chuckles, and leans in close.
"Bit of a masochist, aren't you? Well then, I guess this is a good place for you. Gotta tell you, buddy, I can't guarantee you'll be so happy with me when we're done, but maybe we should start off right... you got a name?"
Dean casually tears a rusty blade over Castiel's face: across his forehead, his nose, and then down his right cheeks.
Castiel swallows a scream and then grits out: "Castiel." Because he has his pride and, well, it's Dean.
"Castiel, huh? Well, Cas, I know I'm gonna enjoy our day together."
-
At the end of the day Castiel is not excited anymore - it hurts too much - but bizarrely, he did like the feeling of Dean being... well, almost caring in a way. An utterly twisted form of caring, but still: Dean, completely focused on Castiel - his sounds, his body language, his reactions... Yes, it was twisted, but Castiel decided not to think too hard about it for now. He met Dean's eyes - Dean had never cut out his eyes; not once during the whole day.
"Dean Winchester," his voice was raw and nearly unusable. Still he pushed through: "I forgive you. You are a good man."
Castiel had rarely, if ever, seen Dean look so horror-stricken.
-
The next day, Dean tore out Castiel's vocal chords first thing. "Don't you dare try pulling that shit with me, Castiel, don't you dare."
Castiel missed the way Dean had listened carefully to the sounds of his voice the day before. Perhaps Dean missed it too, because when Castiel's body reformed again, Dean didn't turn his attention to the throat immediately.
"I forgive you, Dean. You are worth salvation. You will earn redemption."
Dean howled and flinched away from Castiel as though the words burned him, squeezing his palms against his eyes furiously. It didn't take long for him to regain himself and he met Castiel's eyes with fury and terror burning in his own. "Shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch!"
It took much longer than usual for Castiel's body to be destroyed - Dean didn't use any techniques for maximizing damage or pain. He only beat Castiel until there was nothing left, screaming "shut up" all the while. Castiel had not been able to see Dean through his swollen eyes for a long while, but when Hell healed him he could see that Dean's eyes were raw and red.
-
Dean did not rip out Castiel's vocal chords the next day, but he didn't speak to him either. He systematically rended Castiel's form to pieces, alternating between a dead expression or absent-minded beaming. All day Castiel repeated himself: I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you.
-
It was the fifth day and here in the center of the tempest Castiel wasn't sure if he was more relieved or aggrieved that it was all ending. Dean's time in Hell was technically already over, of course. But right here, right now, it felt like there were still years left for him. Unbearably long years but for the fact that Castiel knew Dean had borne them.
Dean looked absolutely wrecked when he saw that it was Castiel on the rack again, and the man cried out and viciously plunged a blade into Castiel's heart. It was not unlike their first meeting and the angel could not help but smile at the symmetry of it all.
Dean's face crumpled and fell to the nook between Castiel's neck and shoulder. "I can't stop, Cas, I can't. They'll put me back."
Castiel placed his hand on Dean's shoulder where the burnt handprint from his own Grace would some day reside and squeezed. "I know, Dean. It's all right."
Dean shook his head furiously and then stood back, twisting the knife viciously before ripping it out of Castiel.
"It's all right, Dean. You are a good man."
Tears ran swiftly and mingled with Castiel's blood. When it was all said and done, the Archangel would not regret it - not one second.