SPN Fic: Hell and Holy Fire (demon!Dean/priest!Castiel)
Title: Hell and Holy Fire
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Summary: Castiel is Dean's salvation, and Dean is Castiel's downfall. They'll forever be caught in this tug-of-war, neither able to surrender to the other, so they're caught in the middle. Heaven and Hell irrevocably tangled together.
“… thy will be done-“
“Amen.”
The voice finishing his prayer makes a shiver of equal parts delight and terror run up Castiel’s spine. His lips curve into a smirk as he rises from the pew he’s been sitting in for far too long, but he doesn’t immediately turn to face his visitor. Every time, he tells himself that this will be the time he doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge this foul, blasphemous, beautiful creature, and brings an end to whatever it is that draws them to each other.
There’s suddenly intense heat at his back, hot breath tickling his throat as the creature growls in his ear, “What’s the matter, Padre? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Nimble hands slide up his thighs, trace over his hips and ghost over the front of his pants, and damn if his dick doesn’t decide then would be a good time to notice exactly who’s standing behind him.
Castiel’s breath is shaky as he turns in the creature’s hold and faces him. Green eyes flash inky-black for a moment as lightning flashes, highlighting sandy hair, and freckles. “Hello, Dean.” He doubts that is the demon’s real name; more likely it’s the body’s, but it is the only name Castiel knows him by.
“Hey, Padre.” Dean’s smirk turns into a mischievous grin as he pulls Castiel in for a kiss that’s sin and salvation all at once.
It’s always the same, these meetings. Soon enough they’ll stumble towards the first available elevated surface, ripping at clothes as they try to get rid of them without breaking apart. Dean will use his superior strength to simply tear Castiel’s away, and Castiel will lament yet more perfectly good clothing being ruined, but he’ll forget the complaint when Dean moves his mouth to the newly exposed skin of his throat, collarbone, chest… anything he can reach. They’ll try to go for that available elevated surface- perhaps the table that had been brought out of storage to be cleaned- and no doubt fall to the floor instead. Castiel will have one brief moment of clarity where he realizes what he’s doing; he’s a priest, fucking a demon on the floor of his church.
He’ll think for one moment that he will finally say no, that this can’t keep happening, because in the end, he can’t save Dean any more than he can allow Dean to damn him. But then Dean will be above him, dragging his thin t-shirt over his head and Castiel will trace a trembling hand down the demon’s chest and he’ll know that he’ll never be able to stop this… That he’s been doomed to repeat this ever since the first time this creature sauntered into his church to toy with him.
Dean will throw his shirt aside, kiss Castiel, make him feel like he’s burning in hell and being cleansed by holy fire, hands will pull and shove urgently at rough jeans and stiff slacks.
Castiel will murmur prayers, beg forgiveness until he feels Dean’s hand on his cock, and the prayers for forgiveness will turn to prayers for this to never end. Dean will make him beg, plead, and pray for anything, everything, and Castiel will turn the tables at the first opportunity, and soon enough Dean will be the one begging. Castiel will feel powerful when he finally gets the tiny, wrecked, “Cas, please.” that he’ll be waiting for, powerful because he, a simple priest can make this powerful creature beg him for release. If he’s feeling generous, he’ll grant it.
When it’s over, when they’re both sticky with sweat and come, they’ll lay sprawled on the red carpet, their ragged, harsh breathing echoing through the empty room. Dean will make some sort of joke when he catches his breath, he’ll kiss Castiel one more time and then he’ll be gone, as if he were never there, and Castiel will be left alone in the dark to wonder what he’s doing. Why he allows a demon to slowly lead him to hell.
He’ll rationalize it; Dean has never hurt him, some of Dean’s words and actions seem even kind at times, perhaps he isn’t evil, perhaps he’s just an unfortunate soul who never belonged in hell in the first place… Castiel will let himself be satisfied with that reasoning, and he’ll remain so until the next time Dean shows up with a smirk on his lips, and an affectionate “hey, Padre” ready to fall from them.
All that has happened before… It won’t happen again, at least not tonight.
When Dean kisses him, Castiel savors the hell and holy fire burn, but he stands firm when Dean makes to push him towards the dusty old table. Dean takes a step back, confusion written across his borrowed face. “S’the matter, Padre?”
What’s the matter? He’s a priest, a servant of God, and Heaven and he regularly allows a creature from the depths of hell to defile him. He should be disgusted with himself, and with Dean. He should exorcise Dean, send him back to hell where he belongs. His heart shouldn’t twist at the thought, shouldn’t stutter and make his chest seize at the thought of never seeing this abomination again.
That’s the kicker, isn’t it? He doesn’t want these visits to stop, he doesn’t see Dean as an abomination… If he even dared, he might think that some part of him loves Dean. He should be cast from the church for even considering it, but then, he should be cast from the church for sins so much graver, so what is one more added to his resume?
“God forgive me,” Castiel mutters.
“We’re back to that, huh, Padre?” Dean takes another step back, and sits in the pew Castiel had vacated. He drapes his arms over the back of the pew, and slumps low in the seat. He stretches casually, leaving his legs spread open and the bulge in his sinfully tight jeans clearly visible. Castiel bites back a whimper at the sight. Dean’s mouth curves into a knowing smirk. “C’mon, Castiel-” Castiel sucks in a breath, because Dean rarely uses his name, it’s always ‘Padre’ or ‘Cas’, never ‘Castiel’. “What do you say we skip the ‘forgive mes’ this time around? I think if God had anything to say about it, he would have by now.”
It takes every ounce of Castiel’s will to keep him from bowing to Dean’s logic and straddling the demon… “Why do you do this, Dean?”
Dean quirks an eyebrow at him. “Because you’re one fine piece of holy ass, Padre.”
“So you just like the thrill of corrupting a servant of God…”
Dean laughs, head thrown back, white teeth flashing. Castiel wants nothing more than to have his mouth on the demon’s exposed throat. “I don’t do the corrupting, buddy. I just let people in on the fact that they’re already corrupted.”
“And this is your way of… letting me know I’m already hellbound.”
“Hell? You? Cas, have you looked at yourself lately? You’re a priest, dude.”
He has, and he sees a liar who sins even in his thoughts when he thinks of Dean in a manner that isn’t ways to make sure he never returns. He should have done that the first time Dean came through those doors and said hello. But he hadn’t known what Dean was then… He hadn’t known until it was already too late, and he’d fallen to temptation… Fallen so far, he doubts he’s ever going to get back up. All he says aloud is, “I’m a poor example of one.”
“Seen a lot of priests in my time, Cas. You’re one of the few good ones.”
“Then I shudder to think what priests you’ve seen,” says Castiel.
“You should. There’s evil out there, Cas. There are worse things out there than me, and most of them are human. But you? You’re good.”
“Then why am I even speaking to you?” Castiel snaps. “I should be cleansing this place. I should be tying you down and fetching the holy water-“
“Oooh, kinky. Better make sure it’s extra holy; I like a good burn.” Dean grins, runs his tongue over his lips. “Maybe after you can let me get a little fun in with my knife. I like it when you bleed.”
Castiel continues as though the images being conjured in his mind don’t make his knees weak with want. “I should be sending you back to hell, where you belong, demon.”
Dean blinks his eyes to black, and the next thing Castiel knows, he’s lying on the floor and a crushing weight presses down on his chest, though Dean is still sitting in the pew. He’s leaning forward now, though, arms braced on his knees as he glares at Castiel. His eyes are still black. “Where I belong? If you want me to leave, just say so, Padre, but don’t you dare start talking about where I belong. You don’t know anything about why I went to hell.”
Dean blinks out of existence and then back into it straddling Castiel’s thighs. He leans down and presses a kiss below Castiel’s ear before he says, “Now why don’t you say what’s really on your mind instead of casting stones.”
Castiel shivers at the breath on his skin. He doesn’t even know what’s really on his mind. He doesn’t know if he wants Dean to leave, or if he wants him to never leave- that’s a lie, he knows which he wants- he doesn’t know if he wants to know why Dean keeps coming back to him, or if he’s better of not knowing the answer… It will be painful to hear the truth, no matter what it is.
He just doesn’t know anymore. Things used to be so clean cut, black and white. He was a servant of God, and intrinsically good. Demons were evil. But then Dean came in with his easy smile and his charm, and before he revealed his true self, Castiel had been able to easily imagine a scenario in which he left the church for Dean. He’d thought Dean might have been happy about that, that they might have been able to be something… And then he’d seen that flash of black in one quick blink, and it had been over. Or it should have been, but Dean kept returning to the church, and Castiel had kept letting him.
Really, he has no choice but to ask, “Why do you keep coming back, Dean? What am I to you? Am I just a demon’s plaything, something to be used when you have need, and then ignored, or is there another reason?”
Dean sits back, settling his weight on Castiel’s thighs, and blinks, like he hadn’t been expecting that. “Cas…”
Castiel sits up as much as he can with Dean still on him and gives the demon the best wrath-of-God glare that he can muster. “You wanted to know what’s on my mind. Answer the question.. Why, Dean?”
Dean looks away, eyes switching back to green. He focuses on anything but Castiel.
“Answer the question, or leave.”
That gets Dean’s attention back on Castiel. If Dean leaves, he won’t be coming back; Castiel will make sure of that. As soon as he’s gone, the wards will go up and that will be the end of it. It’s Dean’s choice how this goes…
Dean shoves himself roughly to his feet and starts to stalk towards the ornate front doors. Castiel lets himself fall back on the floor. His heart feels like it’s skipping beats, and his chest is so tight he can’t breathe. He hadn’t wanted Dean to leave…
“You make me feel human.”
He raises his head and looks down the aisle. Dean is standing there, halfway between Castiel, and the door. Maybe he’s always halfway between places… Between human and demon, between Heaven and Hell. He looks back over his shoulder. His eyes are black for a second before he blinks them back to green. He continues speaking in such a small voice that Castiel has to strain to hear. “I swore when I clawed my way to the surface that I wouldn’t forget what being human was like… That I wouldn’t go full demon. But I started slipping. I forgot. I did some horrible shit, Cas.” He sucks in a deep breath that sounds shaky to Castiel. “I came in here to try and remind myself that I needed to remember what I used to be. And I met you. If I believed in God, I’d figure he led me to you, because when I’m with you… You’re about as close as I’m gonna get to Heaven, Cas. I didn’t want to drag you down with me, but fuck, I can’t let you go…”
Castiel is Dean’s salvation, and Dean is Castiel’s downfall. They’ll forever be in this tug-of-war, neither able to surrender to the other, so they’re always caught in the middle. Heaven and Hell irrevocably tangled together.
Castiel gets to his feet and he wonders if he should say anything, provided he could speak around the tightening in his throat. This should never have been possible. Dean shouldn’t remember being human, and Castiel shouldn’t be his tether to humanity.
Dean makes a sound suspiciously like a sniffle, and turns away with a dark laugh. “So, guess I’ll get out of your hair now. It’s been fun, Padre.”
“Dean-” What’s he supposed to say? That he wants Dean to stay? Do they fall back into their old routine. How can they, after this?
“Yeah, Cas?”
By way of an answer, Castiel holds out his hand and waits for Dean to notice. When the demon turns and sees the offered hand, he looks… relieved, shocked, fearful… Castiel can’t tell. He takes several slow steps forward, just enough that when he reaches out, his fingers brush Castiel’s.
There’s no telling where they go from here. Dean is still a creature of hell, and Castiel still a servant of God. Dean still can’t be saved, and Castiel still can’t be damned. But maybe, maybe at least within these walls, none of that matters. And who knows, God works in mysterious ways; maybe some day, Dean will be absolved of whatever sin it was that doomed him to Hell and it will have been thanks to Castiel.
There’s no real way of knowing.
Castiel curls his fingers around Dean’s, drags the demon forward and into one of their hell and holy fire kisses and for once the burn doesn’t leave him feeling guilty.
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Summary: Castiel is Dean's salvation, and Dean is Castiel's downfall. They'll forever be caught in this tug-of-war, neither able to surrender to the other, so they're caught in the middle. Heaven and Hell irrevocably tangled together.
“… thy will be done-“
“Amen.”
The voice finishing his prayer makes a shiver of equal parts delight and terror run up Castiel’s spine. His lips curve into a smirk as he rises from the pew he’s been sitting in for far too long, but he doesn’t immediately turn to face his visitor. Every time, he tells himself that this will be the time he doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge this foul, blasphemous, beautiful creature, and brings an end to whatever it is that draws them to each other.
There’s suddenly intense heat at his back, hot breath tickling his throat as the creature growls in his ear, “What’s the matter, Padre? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Nimble hands slide up his thighs, trace over his hips and ghost over the front of his pants, and damn if his dick doesn’t decide then would be a good time to notice exactly who’s standing behind him.
Castiel’s breath is shaky as he turns in the creature’s hold and faces him. Green eyes flash inky-black for a moment as lightning flashes, highlighting sandy hair, and freckles. “Hello, Dean.” He doubts that is the demon’s real name; more likely it’s the body’s, but it is the only name Castiel knows him by.
“Hey, Padre.” Dean’s smirk turns into a mischievous grin as he pulls Castiel in for a kiss that’s sin and salvation all at once.
It’s always the same, these meetings. Soon enough they’ll stumble towards the first available elevated surface, ripping at clothes as they try to get rid of them without breaking apart. Dean will use his superior strength to simply tear Castiel’s away, and Castiel will lament yet more perfectly good clothing being ruined, but he’ll forget the complaint when Dean moves his mouth to the newly exposed skin of his throat, collarbone, chest… anything he can reach. They’ll try to go for that available elevated surface- perhaps the table that had been brought out of storage to be cleaned- and no doubt fall to the floor instead. Castiel will have one brief moment of clarity where he realizes what he’s doing; he’s a priest, fucking a demon on the floor of his church.
He’ll think for one moment that he will finally say no, that this can’t keep happening, because in the end, he can’t save Dean any more than he can allow Dean to damn him. But then Dean will be above him, dragging his thin t-shirt over his head and Castiel will trace a trembling hand down the demon’s chest and he’ll know that he’ll never be able to stop this… That he’s been doomed to repeat this ever since the first time this creature sauntered into his church to toy with him.
Dean will throw his shirt aside, kiss Castiel, make him feel like he’s burning in hell and being cleansed by holy fire, hands will pull and shove urgently at rough jeans and stiff slacks.
Castiel will murmur prayers, beg forgiveness until he feels Dean’s hand on his cock, and the prayers for forgiveness will turn to prayers for this to never end. Dean will make him beg, plead, and pray for anything, everything, and Castiel will turn the tables at the first opportunity, and soon enough Dean will be the one begging. Castiel will feel powerful when he finally gets the tiny, wrecked, “Cas, please.” that he’ll be waiting for, powerful because he, a simple priest can make this powerful creature beg him for release. If he’s feeling generous, he’ll grant it.
When it’s over, when they’re both sticky with sweat and come, they’ll lay sprawled on the red carpet, their ragged, harsh breathing echoing through the empty room. Dean will make some sort of joke when he catches his breath, he’ll kiss Castiel one more time and then he’ll be gone, as if he were never there, and Castiel will be left alone in the dark to wonder what he’s doing. Why he allows a demon to slowly lead him to hell.
He’ll rationalize it; Dean has never hurt him, some of Dean’s words and actions seem even kind at times, perhaps he isn’t evil, perhaps he’s just an unfortunate soul who never belonged in hell in the first place… Castiel will let himself be satisfied with that reasoning, and he’ll remain so until the next time Dean shows up with a smirk on his lips, and an affectionate “hey, Padre” ready to fall from them.
All that has happened before… It won’t happen again, at least not tonight.
When Dean kisses him, Castiel savors the hell and holy fire burn, but he stands firm when Dean makes to push him towards the dusty old table. Dean takes a step back, confusion written across his borrowed face. “S’the matter, Padre?”
What’s the matter? He’s a priest, a servant of God, and Heaven and he regularly allows a creature from the depths of hell to defile him. He should be disgusted with himself, and with Dean. He should exorcise Dean, send him back to hell where he belongs. His heart shouldn’t twist at the thought, shouldn’t stutter and make his chest seize at the thought of never seeing this abomination again.
That’s the kicker, isn’t it? He doesn’t want these visits to stop, he doesn’t see Dean as an abomination… If he even dared, he might think that some part of him loves Dean. He should be cast from the church for even considering it, but then, he should be cast from the church for sins so much graver, so what is one more added to his resume?
“God forgive me,” Castiel mutters.
“We’re back to that, huh, Padre?” Dean takes another step back, and sits in the pew Castiel had vacated. He drapes his arms over the back of the pew, and slumps low in the seat. He stretches casually, leaving his legs spread open and the bulge in his sinfully tight jeans clearly visible. Castiel bites back a whimper at the sight. Dean’s mouth curves into a knowing smirk. “C’mon, Castiel-” Castiel sucks in a breath, because Dean rarely uses his name, it’s always ‘Padre’ or ‘Cas’, never ‘Castiel’. “What do you say we skip the ‘forgive mes’ this time around? I think if God had anything to say about it, he would have by now.”
It takes every ounce of Castiel’s will to keep him from bowing to Dean’s logic and straddling the demon… “Why do you do this, Dean?”
Dean quirks an eyebrow at him. “Because you’re one fine piece of holy ass, Padre.”
“So you just like the thrill of corrupting a servant of God…”
Dean laughs, head thrown back, white teeth flashing. Castiel wants nothing more than to have his mouth on the demon’s exposed throat. “I don’t do the corrupting, buddy. I just let people in on the fact that they’re already corrupted.”
“And this is your way of… letting me know I’m already hellbound.”
“Hell? You? Cas, have you looked at yourself lately? You’re a priest, dude.”
He has, and he sees a liar who sins even in his thoughts when he thinks of Dean in a manner that isn’t ways to make sure he never returns. He should have done that the first time Dean came through those doors and said hello. But he hadn’t known what Dean was then… He hadn’t known until it was already too late, and he’d fallen to temptation… Fallen so far, he doubts he’s ever going to get back up. All he says aloud is, “I’m a poor example of one.”
“Seen a lot of priests in my time, Cas. You’re one of the few good ones.”
“Then I shudder to think what priests you’ve seen,” says Castiel.
“You should. There’s evil out there, Cas. There are worse things out there than me, and most of them are human. But you? You’re good.”
“Then why am I even speaking to you?” Castiel snaps. “I should be cleansing this place. I should be tying you down and fetching the holy water-“
“Oooh, kinky. Better make sure it’s extra holy; I like a good burn.” Dean grins, runs his tongue over his lips. “Maybe after you can let me get a little fun in with my knife. I like it when you bleed.”
Castiel continues as though the images being conjured in his mind don’t make his knees weak with want. “I should be sending you back to hell, where you belong, demon.”
Dean blinks his eyes to black, and the next thing Castiel knows, he’s lying on the floor and a crushing weight presses down on his chest, though Dean is still sitting in the pew. He’s leaning forward now, though, arms braced on his knees as he glares at Castiel. His eyes are still black. “Where I belong? If you want me to leave, just say so, Padre, but don’t you dare start talking about where I belong. You don’t know anything about why I went to hell.”
Dean blinks out of existence and then back into it straddling Castiel’s thighs. He leans down and presses a kiss below Castiel’s ear before he says, “Now why don’t you say what’s really on your mind instead of casting stones.”
Castiel shivers at the breath on his skin. He doesn’t even know what’s really on his mind. He doesn’t know if he wants Dean to leave, or if he wants him to never leave- that’s a lie, he knows which he wants- he doesn’t know if he wants to know why Dean keeps coming back to him, or if he’s better of not knowing the answer… It will be painful to hear the truth, no matter what it is.
He just doesn’t know anymore. Things used to be so clean cut, black and white. He was a servant of God, and intrinsically good. Demons were evil. But then Dean came in with his easy smile and his charm, and before he revealed his true self, Castiel had been able to easily imagine a scenario in which he left the church for Dean. He’d thought Dean might have been happy about that, that they might have been able to be something… And then he’d seen that flash of black in one quick blink, and it had been over. Or it should have been, but Dean kept returning to the church, and Castiel had kept letting him.
Really, he has no choice but to ask, “Why do you keep coming back, Dean? What am I to you? Am I just a demon’s plaything, something to be used when you have need, and then ignored, or is there another reason?”
Dean sits back, settling his weight on Castiel’s thighs, and blinks, like he hadn’t been expecting that. “Cas…”
Castiel sits up as much as he can with Dean still on him and gives the demon the best wrath-of-God glare that he can muster. “You wanted to know what’s on my mind. Answer the question.. Why, Dean?”
Dean looks away, eyes switching back to green. He focuses on anything but Castiel.
“Answer the question, or leave.”
That gets Dean’s attention back on Castiel. If Dean leaves, he won’t be coming back; Castiel will make sure of that. As soon as he’s gone, the wards will go up and that will be the end of it. It’s Dean’s choice how this goes…
Dean shoves himself roughly to his feet and starts to stalk towards the ornate front doors. Castiel lets himself fall back on the floor. His heart feels like it’s skipping beats, and his chest is so tight he can’t breathe. He hadn’t wanted Dean to leave…
“You make me feel human.”
He raises his head and looks down the aisle. Dean is standing there, halfway between Castiel, and the door. Maybe he’s always halfway between places… Between human and demon, between Heaven and Hell. He looks back over his shoulder. His eyes are black for a second before he blinks them back to green. He continues speaking in such a small voice that Castiel has to strain to hear. “I swore when I clawed my way to the surface that I wouldn’t forget what being human was like… That I wouldn’t go full demon. But I started slipping. I forgot. I did some horrible shit, Cas.” He sucks in a deep breath that sounds shaky to Castiel. “I came in here to try and remind myself that I needed to remember what I used to be. And I met you. If I believed in God, I’d figure he led me to you, because when I’m with you… You’re about as close as I’m gonna get to Heaven, Cas. I didn’t want to drag you down with me, but fuck, I can’t let you go…”
Castiel is Dean’s salvation, and Dean is Castiel’s downfall. They’ll forever be in this tug-of-war, neither able to surrender to the other, so they’re always caught in the middle. Heaven and Hell irrevocably tangled together.
Castiel gets to his feet and he wonders if he should say anything, provided he could speak around the tightening in his throat. This should never have been possible. Dean shouldn’t remember being human, and Castiel shouldn’t be his tether to humanity.
Dean makes a sound suspiciously like a sniffle, and turns away with a dark laugh. “So, guess I’ll get out of your hair now. It’s been fun, Padre.”
“Dean-” What’s he supposed to say? That he wants Dean to stay? Do they fall back into their old routine. How can they, after this?
“Yeah, Cas?”
By way of an answer, Castiel holds out his hand and waits for Dean to notice. When the demon turns and sees the offered hand, he looks… relieved, shocked, fearful… Castiel can’t tell. He takes several slow steps forward, just enough that when he reaches out, his fingers brush Castiel’s.
There’s no telling where they go from here. Dean is still a creature of hell, and Castiel still a servant of God. Dean still can’t be saved, and Castiel still can’t be damned. But maybe, maybe at least within these walls, none of that matters. And who knows, God works in mysterious ways; maybe some day, Dean will be absolved of whatever sin it was that doomed him to Hell and it will have been thanks to Castiel.
There’s no real way of knowing.
Castiel curls his fingers around Dean’s, drags the demon forward and into one of their hell and holy fire kisses and for once the burn doesn’t leave him feeling guilty.