(Untitled)
FROM HELL MEME
Here's the gist---
You're in Hell.
Yep, HELL.
1) Roll a Role
2) Role a Torture Type.
Let me take the time to mention,
TRIGGERS! TRIGGERS! THIS IS A MEME OF TRIGGERS!
You have been warned.
ROLES:
1) Soul. You're a soul in Hell. That means you're up to all and every torture. Good luck with that.
2) Tormentor. You are a Demon, or and Upper ( Read more... )
[Dean knows where this is going and he can't let it. He doesn't want anyone else to see him like this. It's bad enough Cas had to see him. Not just that, but with the extra luggage, Cas is way more likely to get caught and Dean needs him to go soon, because they don't have long before they'll both be strung up.
He inhales sharply when Castiel's hand fits over his arm, right where he'd marked Dean the last time. He can feel that bond they've always had. It's probably in his head, but sometimes he really does feel like he and Cas are connected in some weird, cosmic way. It's like freakin' Twilight and he's not sure which of them is that creepy pale dude, but it's probably Cas given how much he likes to watch people sleep.]
You have to go now. They're going to notice that I broke that ward.
[God, Dean wants to go with Cas. He wants it more than anything. He closes his eyes and when he opens them again, they aren't black anymore.]
Please just go.
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[Dean doesn't seem to understand- or maybe he's just not willing to understand- that Castiel isn't going to leave him here. He couldn't, it's just not how he's wired. He'd promised Sam that he'd bring his brother back, and he knows he owes him at least that much after what had happened with his soul... But it's more than that, of course. He needs Dean back, he can't do this alone, as much as he wants to.
Dean hisses when he places his hand over that mark, and Castiel thinks he must feel it too, that connection. Truthfully he doesn't know what it means, only that it exists and that it matters somehow....
Those eyes close, then open again... And Cas is convinced more than ever that what he's about to do is right, it's what needs to be done. His brow creases and he digs his fingers more tightly into Dean's arm.]
This will probably be painful for you. I'm sorry.
[That's all the warning he's going to give. It takes some doing, because there are more wards than just the one Dean'd broken, but he manages to shift into something closer to his true form, something bright and strong and capable of descending from the pit. He doesn't let go of Dean; if anything his grip becomes stronger, more confident as he drags him up through the layers of hell. He doesn't know the extent of the damage to Dean's soul, only hopes that when he finally breaks the surface, there will be something left of him to put back into his body.
He has to believe there will be.]
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It feels like he's flying and drowning all at once and even though it burns more than anything that he went through on the rack, he clings to it with everything he has. He clings to Castiel like he's the only thing in existence and for a moment, for Dean, he is.
He wants to scream, but he's not sure he even has a mouth to do it with anymore. The form he's taken in Hell is all but gone. He's just a scarred, broken little soul and all he knows is that Cas is saving him again. Cas always saves him.]
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The ascent isn't without pain for Castiel, of course; he'd been injured himself, through his own carelessness. That's what had allowed him to be captured in the first place, and he's fighting to ignore the exhaustion and the way the icy wind of Hell licks at his form. It's taking longer than he'd like to reach the surface, though he's also blocking out the thought of what might happen to both of them if they're stopped. He doubts he'd have the strength to escape should they encounter other demons on the way back up. Shifting, he pulls the quivering mass of energy that is Dean more closely against his grace, angles his face- or at least the part of him where a face might be- upward, and pulls them out of the darkness.
It doesn't take him quite as long as it had the first time to repair Dean's body; he still remembers exactly how the pieces of him fit together to make up that familiar form... And this time he's even kind enough to pull him out of the ground, leaves his body laying flat against the dirt and torn-up grass.
Blinking against the sunlight, he crouches down alongside him, unsure. There's no precedent for stuffing a soul so far gone back inside its body; Castiel really can't be sure it'd even worked.]
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There's relief when they break the surface, but he still clings tightly to Cas as Cas rebuilds his body. He's so dazed and barely there, but Cas is a constant for him, always has been, so he clings tight to the angel and knows that Cas will keep whatever is left of him safe. Briefly, he wonders if he'll have a new handprint--something to remind him that even when he's given up on himself, Cas will always be there to bring him back.
He can feel it when Cas is done fixing his body. It pulls at him like a sharp, insistent tug at his very self. He fights it at first, clinging to Cas on instinct. After the flight up, it's hard to let go, but he slowly lets up on his hold, praying that that pull really is his body and not Hell as his grip on Cas finally gives.]
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Castiel waits, peers down at his rebuilt form and waits for some sign that it's taken, that Dean's soul can fit in the spaces between the cells the way it was meant to. His chest rises and falls like it should, but that's purely biological and Castiel hadn't had any doubts that he'd be able to restore those base functions.
Eventually, Dean's grip on him loosens, then disappears altogether, and Castiel reaches out, sets his hand against his cheek.]
Dean?
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Cas?
[He can barely get it out, it's so scratchy, and his arm twitches, hand grabbing at whatever part of Cas is he can get to. He feels like death warmed over, but that's just confirmation that he's really alive. The pain is physical and it's so different from the pain of Hell. It's almost welcome. Cas saved him again.
He tries to do something demon-y. Just something small. He tried to float a pebble to his hand.
Nothing happens. Cas really did it, he thinks.]
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How are you feeling?
[He isn't exactly sure how he means it- spiritually, physically?- but he supposes any answer will do since it would mean Dean's alive and speaking and aware of what's going on.]
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[He tries to sit up, but only gets a few inches up before easing himself back down. He feels kind of dizzy and he'd rather lie here than fall over. That would definitely look worse.]
And pretty fucking human. Did you...?
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That's understandable.
[Dean moves to sit up, and Castiel is about to press his palm to his chest to keep him right where he is... But he seems to decide he's just fine where he is and it saves Castiel the trouble. He looks tired, rough around the edges and weak- and the dirt he's covered in isn't helping- but that's all to be expected. Castiel is just glad he's alive.
And human, apparently. He sends a silent prayer of thanks to his Father for that as he shakes his head.]
All I did was bring you back.
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[He looks away. This kind of thing is always hard for him.]
I know I told you to leave me, but I'm glad you didn't listen.
[Of course Cas didn't listen. Cas always saves him, even when he doesn't deserve it in the slightest. God, he was going to be so happy to see Sam and Bobby again. Seeing Cas up here wasn't half-bad, either, negative feelings or not.]
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You can't think I'd have left you there.
[He frowns.]
Or your brother. Not intentionally.
[And now Castiel looks away. That had been a terrible oversight on his part, one he wishes he could take back. If he'd only been smarter, Sam wouldn't be suffering the way he is...]
Would you like me to take you to him?
[He can try to make up for that now, provided he can find a way to stop Raphael. He supposes if he can't, it'll all be moot anyway.]
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[He slowly pushes himself up towards a sitting position again.]
And I know you wouldn't leave me or Sam down there if you could help it, but... you lied to me.
[He sighs. He can't tell if he's more angry at Cas for lying or himself for trusting the angel. Dean's gut tells him to never trust anyone. That he trusted Cas had been nothing short of a miracle, really.]
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