Fic: Drag Me From Hell (1/1)
Title: Drag Me From Hell
Author: mummyluvr314
Rating: R
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Masturbation, and that ever-present-in-our-corner-of-fandom blasphemy
A/N: Written for kittywolf , who won me in the Sweet Charity auction. Top!Dean and masturbation, I covered. Sam finding out is implied. Also, my brain wrote half a fic and changed direction before I could stop it. I’m sorry if it’s not what you had in mind, but I tried. Title is a take on the title of the movie "Drag Me To Hell." I knew it sounded familiar...
Word Count: 2865
Summary: It was one hell of a way to Fall. Literally. Professing his love and proving God’s existence, all while proving to Dean that the hunter was needed, was wanted, was loved. Cas really was smarter than he looked.
Drag Me From Hell
Dean was alone. Completely and utterly alone. And he was not alright with that.
He was thinking of Sherry. Beautiful Sherry. With long blonde hair and dark brown eyes and lips that he was sure he could put to good use. But Sam had acted as a cock block - basically just by existing - and then left with Ruby. Leaving Dean all by himself.
He didn’t want to be all by himself.
So he called up his little friend. Jimmy came out right away, looking slumped and lonely. Dean would have to fix that. He gave Jimmy a little pat, then a longer backrub, just to get him going.
He knew what Jimmy liked.
Now that Jimmy was standing at attention, Dean figured he could get the party started.
Oh, and did he mention that Jimmy was short for Dick?
Because it totally was.
And just for the record, Jimmy had been named before Cas went on his little vacation. Long before. Because Dean just didn’t swing that way, and if Jimmy seemed to be walking a little taller at thoughts of the annoyingly awkward angel, it was just a coincidence.
Honestly, it was.
He must’ve had lips like Sherry, is all. Not that Dean spent too much time checking out the angel’s pout. Because he didn’t.
His pout, or his eyes, or the way he watched Dean, unblinking. Almost as if he cherished him.
Which he didn’t. Because Castiel didn’t serve man. And he certainly didn’t serve Dean. And even though Dean had saddened at the words, Jimmy apparently took them as a challenge, thinking as he did that he could convert angels, make them worship something other than God, at a place other than a church.
A soft moan echoed off the walls, and Dean stopped what he was doing. Because he was pretty damn sure that he hadn’t been the one to make the sound.
He stilled and listened, waiting. It was certainly possible that he’d done it, but that would have taken more. More pressure, more friction, maybe an auditory hallucination of that deep, commanding voice whispering in his ear, moaning his name.
Yeah, like that. That noise, right there, soft, but unmistakably a word. One syllable. Dean.
So, you see, it couldn’t have been him. Because what kinda douche moans his own name during sex, regardless of whose hand is going through the motions?
Slightly creeped out - at least to the extent that Jimmy started sulking again - Dean tucked himself away and went to investigate. He slid his knife out from beneath his pillow and began searching the room.
He knew what sex through a wall sounded like. Growing up in seedy motels with paper-thin walls had taught him that much, at least. And those noises - the ones that were still being made - weren’t coming from another room. They were too quiet. Not muffled, just soft.
In other words, the call was coming from inside the house.
The bathroom door was closed, and Dean approached it with trepidation. A soft moan issued from inside the room, and he flung the door wide open, expecting a ghost or a psychopath or something that was not what he actually wound up finding.
“Cas?”
The angel was leaning up against the wall adjacent to the actual bedroom, his head thrown back, eyes closed, hand fisted around Jimmy.
And did Dean mention that Jimmy now applied to both the vessel and the vessel’s dick?
Because it totally did.
“Cas?”
That got his attention. Blue eyes opened slowly, sluggishly, and focused on Dean.
“Dude.” Green eyes scanned the scene - disheveled appearance, lust-blown pupils, panting breaths, steadily reddening face. “Are you… did I…” he cleared his throat, trying not to smile at the ridiculousness of the statement that was forming in his mind and bubbling past his lips. “Are you jacking off to me jacking off?”
The angel blinked. “I’m sorry?”
Dean continued eying him. “Oh, don’t apologize.”
“No, I mean-”
“I gotcha.” He winked, stepped into the bathroom, and closed the door behind him. The lock clicked before he even had a chance to touch it. “Cas?”
Dark eyes locked on his. “I need to explain.”
“No. No, you really don’t.”
“It’s not wrong.”
Dean faltered for a moment, then whispered, “what?”
“It isn’t wrong. The way you feel.”
“I don’t feel anything.”
Cas actually smirked. “Thought that was my gig.”
“Uh…” And what could he say to that? To a joke - quite possibly the angel’s first? How does one redirect a conversation like the one they’d stumbled onto? “Baby’s first joke. I’ll just jot that one down in the book.”
Oh. Like that, apparently.
“Dean.”
“What?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, when a man and a… man, I guess in your case, love each other very much-”
“I don’t understand why you deny me.”
Dean shrugged. “Might have something to do with the threats to toss me back into the Pit. Or maybe it was the part where you don’t serve me. Take your pick.”
“You must understand-”
“I do understand. I understand I never had a friend before, and I was stupid for thinking that I finally did. I understand that you’re not here to hold my hand.” The or my dick went unmentioned for the time being. “I understand that you’re more of a dick than I originally thought. And now you’re whacking off in my bathroom. So what gives?”
“I was taken.” The angel’s voice was low and rough, blue eyes full of sadness. “I was taken and I was told that if I continued down my path, you would be pulled from yours. You would be sent back into Perdition. I complied with their will if only to save your soul.”
“That still doesn’t explain what I just walked in on,” Dean muttered, trying to tear his thoughts from what Castiel had just said, from the fact that he had almost been sent back.
“Let’s call it a mutual attraction.”
Jimmy stirred a little at that. At the way their eyes met, at the echo of soft voices against the tile, at what Dean thought the words might mean.
“A mutual attraction?”
“You found me,” Cas said slowly, “because I wanted you to. I realized something recently, Dean.”
“Yeah?” He was moving closer. He didn’t know why, just knew that his feet were moving and his pants were tightening and Cas wasn’t blinking. “What’s that?”
“I would gladly follow you back into Hell.”
Everything kind of blurred together after that. The flood of emotion that came with the realization that he’d irrevocably sullied the only good and pure thing left in his life - a mix of happiness, sadness, desperation, guilt, and lust so strong that Cas was shoved up against a wall with Dean’s tongue down his throat.
It was so confusing that Dean wasn’t sure who he had in his hand, who was moaning, who was grinning and muttering something about being emotionless. And then Cas was on the floor beneath him, coat and tie shucked off and tossed into a corner, back flat on the cracked and grimy tiles, and Dean realized something.
He’d wanted this. Wanted it for a long time. Maybe the only thing he’d ever wanted for himself, and he was about to take it on a dirty bathroom floor, and that seemed wrong. After all, the angel had once demanded respect. Dean felt suddenly inclined to give it to him.
He closed his eyes, concentrated on getting up, on moving them away, somewhere nicer, and he felt fingers brush his forehead.
Dean opened his eyes to find himself lying on top of Castiel on a bed that was a hell of a lot nicer than the one in the motel. “Where are we?”
“Wherever you want to be.”
“You whammied me?”
“I whammied us.” Warm lips back on his own, distracting him. Breath surprisingly cool and fresh, like a meadow breeze, and then something tickled his bare legs.
Because, apparently, he’d taken his pants off. Cas’ too.
He broke the kiss long enough to look around him. Warm sunlight filtered through the blowing leaves of the trees that stood around them. Tall, lush grass cushioned the pair, and birds chirped overhead. “The hell?”
Cas stared up at him. “It has to be perfect. It has to be what you want.”
“What do you want?”
The angel smiled. “You.” Another kiss, shorter, sweeter. “Wherever you want, Dean. Whatever you want.”
And he had to think about that. Actually stop and think, worrying his lower lip with his teeth in a way that made Cas groan and buck against him. Because he’d never really given it any serious consideration before, hadn’t thought it important. He’d only bothered with what dad wanted, what Sam wanted.
“Why?” He had to know. He had to know because it had to be some kind of trick, something to make him let his guard down, give him what he wanted, and then take it all away.
A small smile, a soft hand brushing his cheek. “Because you’ve never given it any thought, and if anyone deserves it, it’s you. And I want it to be special. This time has to be special.”
“You’re gonna Fall, aren’t you?”
“I made a choice. I chose you.”
Dean felt himself matching the angel’s smile with gusto. He couldn’t think of one other time in his life when anyone had chosen him. It had always been Sam. Sam, or someone else. Someone normal. Someone worthy of warranting the choice. And for someone to pick him over Heaven? To think him worthy of everything? To make him relax fully, smile widely, and finally let himself admit what he’d been feeling since the start?
That was special.
That was love.
He closed his eyes, concentrated on the hidden nugget of selfishness he’d tucked away within his mind, the buried treasure of secret wants, and took them there.
Cas looked puzzled. “Where are we?”
The bed was soft, the floor carpeted, and the house still smelled of fresh paint. Photos of the two of them adorned the wall, their faces smiling out from the frames, happily doing the most mundane activities.
“Our home,” Dean whispered, no longer afraid of being judged, of being ridiculed, criticized. “Been thinking of it since we met.”
Blue eyes tracked across the room. “I like it.”
Dean felt himself smile. “I knew you would.” The place was small, lived-in despite it’s newer state, and the perfect place to start a family. Not that they could start a family, mind you. But they could be a family, and that was all that really mattered. It was all he really wanted.
And he could finally have it.
So they were in a bed - their bed - together, naked.
That was where it got interesting.
Because Dean had never done anything like this before, and he was pretty sure Cas hadn’t either, what with the whole threat-of-Falling thing. So it was new territory. New territory with some primed pumps and eager participants.
“Do you trust me?” Because he was going to need trust, was going to need reassurance that he was doing the right thing. Because he wasn’t going to hurt anyone else that he cared for.
“With my soul.”
And that was all he needed. That was all he’d ever needed, actually. He kissed the angel, trailing from lips to chin to neck to chest and lower, lower, always lower. Going down, down, down as the proverbial flame got higher. Hotter.
He’d been chosen, finally. Chosen by something he’d wanted, and that made it all the more special. He never would have asked, wouldn’t have tossed in into a conversation, thrown it out there so he could be ridiculed. He wouldn’t have asked anyone else to stay, because everyone left, and he was tired of that.
He pulled himself back up Castiel’s body and looked into the angel’s eyes. Into Jimmy’s eyes. And he stopped.
“I can’t do this.” Damn him and his self-sacrificing ways.
“Why not?”
“Jimmy.”
Cas glanced down between them and grinned. “I don’t see a problem with Jimmy.”
He wasn’t even gonna ask how the angel knew that one. “The guy.”
“He’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Heaven. I wish to stay this way, after. His absence was required.”
“So you killed him?”
“He’d given up.” There was sadness in the angel’s tone, a look in his eyes that Dean didn’t like. “He accepted his fate.” Their eyes met. “Do you accept yours?”
And somehow, Dean knew what that meant, knew what would happen if he went through with it. With everything. Knew what it would mean if they finished. “You’re trying to prove them wrong.”
A smile, small and sad and sweet. “They don’t believe we can feel. And they don’t believe in God. But they are wrong, and you will be saved.”
“And He’ll take you back?”
“If He doesn’t,” Cas whispered, “you will.” He leaned up, his lips below Dean’s ear, warm breath ghosting over warm flesh. “Drag me from Hell, Dean.”
The hunter slid his hands over Castiel’s chest and pushed hard, sending the angel back onto the bed. He reached for the table that hadn’t been there a moment before, the small tube that sat on it.
He was going back. If he did this, he was going back, and he didn’t care. Because the shit had hit the fan, and God had turned His back, and an angel claimed to love him. An angel looked him in the eyes with such trust and devotion that Dean couldn’t deny him. Not when he’d wanted this for so long himself.
He was slick and the angel was tight.
It felt like love.
It felt like love because Dean had known the truth for a while, didn’t need Cas to spell it out for him. He was tool, a blunt instrument to be used and thrown away. Thrown back into the fire that had forged him.
He wasn’t stupid. God had ordered him out, and then He had disappeared, and there would be no one to save him. No one but Cas. To keep the fire at bay, to keep him safe, human, sane. To wait for a daring rescue with him.
It was smart, really. Smart and wonderful, and the angel moaned, growled, scrabbled with short nails at his back. They would Fall when Heaven needed them most, when they were still useful. They would force God out of hiding, force Him to save them, and then use that as a shield. As protection. Warm wings wrapped around them both like a safety net as they got closer, as they got hotter, as the flames rose around them and the screams of the damned echoed off the walls.
It was love. It was right.
Dean burnt.
-.-
Flames surrounded them, shooting into a blood red sky. Shadows played across the dark stone around them, and a sad voice echoed overhead.
“He found us,” Castiel whispered, turning his eyes toward Dean. The hunter wasn’t listening, though. He was too busy staring at the thing he’d rolled off of just a few moments before.
It was brilliant. Made of bright blue light that ebbed and flowed with his emotional state. Blue eyes shining from a noseless face. The beauty of Castiel’s true form was almost enough to cancel out the pain that throbbed and pulsed around them.
He placed a shining hand on Dean’s shoulder and managed a weak smile. “It’ll be all right.”
Sam’s screams continued to echo off the walls around them, filtered through layers of earth and blood in order to torture them.
“He found us an hour ago,” Castiel said, fingers squeezing Dean’s naked flesh, marking his shoulder.
“Where?”
“The bathroom. He thought we were sleeping. He just realized he was wrong.”
Dean nodded slowly, finally pulling his eyes from the angel to stare at the destruction around them. At least he wasn’t on the rack. At least they were together.
But it was dark and it was cold and Sam’s screams and the screams of billions of others filled his ears. The smell of sulfur and blood permeated the air. He didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to do this. He felt himself starting to shake, the memories of his previous experience in Hell rushing back to him.
Something warm and bright and soft wrapped around him, falling over his shoulders. “They’ll come,” Cas whispered, his voice, even lowered, shaking the very foundations of the Pit.
“What if they don’t?”
“My wings are strong enough for two.”
“Thought I was supposed to drag you out.”
A smile, slight but still dazzling. “You will.” Their shadows stretched out behind them as a blazing light flooded the room, sending the pack of demons that had been circling them running back into the dank corners they’d crawled from.
Dean wrapped his arms around his angel and pressed their lips together as God personally ripped Hell apart looking for the world’s saving grace. He figured that was permission enough to cop a feel when they got back.
Author: mummyluvr314
Rating: R
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Masturbation, and that ever-present-in-our-corner-of-fandom blasphemy
A/N: Written for kittywolf , who won me in the Sweet Charity auction. Top!Dean and masturbation, I covered. Sam finding out is implied. Also, my brain wrote half a fic and changed direction before I could stop it. I’m sorry if it’s not what you had in mind, but I tried. Title is a take on the title of the movie "Drag Me To Hell." I knew it sounded familiar...
Word Count: 2865
Summary: It was one hell of a way to Fall. Literally. Professing his love and proving God’s existence, all while proving to Dean that the hunter was needed, was wanted, was loved. Cas really was smarter than he looked.
Drag Me From Hell
Dean was alone. Completely and utterly alone. And he was not alright with that.
He was thinking of Sherry. Beautiful Sherry. With long blonde hair and dark brown eyes and lips that he was sure he could put to good use. But Sam had acted as a cock block - basically just by existing - and then left with Ruby. Leaving Dean all by himself.
He didn’t want to be all by himself.
So he called up his little friend. Jimmy came out right away, looking slumped and lonely. Dean would have to fix that. He gave Jimmy a little pat, then a longer backrub, just to get him going.
He knew what Jimmy liked.
Now that Jimmy was standing at attention, Dean figured he could get the party started.
Oh, and did he mention that Jimmy was short for Dick?
Because it totally was.
And just for the record, Jimmy had been named before Cas went on his little vacation. Long before. Because Dean just didn’t swing that way, and if Jimmy seemed to be walking a little taller at thoughts of the annoyingly awkward angel, it was just a coincidence.
Honestly, it was.
He must’ve had lips like Sherry, is all. Not that Dean spent too much time checking out the angel’s pout. Because he didn’t.
His pout, or his eyes, or the way he watched Dean, unblinking. Almost as if he cherished him.
Which he didn’t. Because Castiel didn’t serve man. And he certainly didn’t serve Dean. And even though Dean had saddened at the words, Jimmy apparently took them as a challenge, thinking as he did that he could convert angels, make them worship something other than God, at a place other than a church.
A soft moan echoed off the walls, and Dean stopped what he was doing. Because he was pretty damn sure that he hadn’t been the one to make the sound.
He stilled and listened, waiting. It was certainly possible that he’d done it, but that would have taken more. More pressure, more friction, maybe an auditory hallucination of that deep, commanding voice whispering in his ear, moaning his name.
Yeah, like that. That noise, right there, soft, but unmistakably a word. One syllable. Dean.
So, you see, it couldn’t have been him. Because what kinda douche moans his own name during sex, regardless of whose hand is going through the motions?
Slightly creeped out - at least to the extent that Jimmy started sulking again - Dean tucked himself away and went to investigate. He slid his knife out from beneath his pillow and began searching the room.
He knew what sex through a wall sounded like. Growing up in seedy motels with paper-thin walls had taught him that much, at least. And those noises - the ones that were still being made - weren’t coming from another room. They were too quiet. Not muffled, just soft.
In other words, the call was coming from inside the house.
The bathroom door was closed, and Dean approached it with trepidation. A soft moan issued from inside the room, and he flung the door wide open, expecting a ghost or a psychopath or something that was not what he actually wound up finding.
“Cas?”
The angel was leaning up against the wall adjacent to the actual bedroom, his head thrown back, eyes closed, hand fisted around Jimmy.
And did Dean mention that Jimmy now applied to both the vessel and the vessel’s dick?
Because it totally did.
“Cas?”
That got his attention. Blue eyes opened slowly, sluggishly, and focused on Dean.
“Dude.” Green eyes scanned the scene - disheveled appearance, lust-blown pupils, panting breaths, steadily reddening face. “Are you… did I…” he cleared his throat, trying not to smile at the ridiculousness of the statement that was forming in his mind and bubbling past his lips. “Are you jacking off to me jacking off?”
The angel blinked. “I’m sorry?”
Dean continued eying him. “Oh, don’t apologize.”
“No, I mean-”
“I gotcha.” He winked, stepped into the bathroom, and closed the door behind him. The lock clicked before he even had a chance to touch it. “Cas?”
Dark eyes locked on his. “I need to explain.”
“No. No, you really don’t.”
“It’s not wrong.”
Dean faltered for a moment, then whispered, “what?”
“It isn’t wrong. The way you feel.”
“I don’t feel anything.”
Cas actually smirked. “Thought that was my gig.”
“Uh…” And what could he say to that? To a joke - quite possibly the angel’s first? How does one redirect a conversation like the one they’d stumbled onto? “Baby’s first joke. I’ll just jot that one down in the book.”
Oh. Like that, apparently.
“Dean.”
“What?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, when a man and a… man, I guess in your case, love each other very much-”
“I don’t understand why you deny me.”
Dean shrugged. “Might have something to do with the threats to toss me back into the Pit. Or maybe it was the part where you don’t serve me. Take your pick.”
“You must understand-”
“I do understand. I understand I never had a friend before, and I was stupid for thinking that I finally did. I understand that you’re not here to hold my hand.” The or my dick went unmentioned for the time being. “I understand that you’re more of a dick than I originally thought. And now you’re whacking off in my bathroom. So what gives?”
“I was taken.” The angel’s voice was low and rough, blue eyes full of sadness. “I was taken and I was told that if I continued down my path, you would be pulled from yours. You would be sent back into Perdition. I complied with their will if only to save your soul.”
“That still doesn’t explain what I just walked in on,” Dean muttered, trying to tear his thoughts from what Castiel had just said, from the fact that he had almost been sent back.
“Let’s call it a mutual attraction.”
Jimmy stirred a little at that. At the way their eyes met, at the echo of soft voices against the tile, at what Dean thought the words might mean.
“A mutual attraction?”
“You found me,” Cas said slowly, “because I wanted you to. I realized something recently, Dean.”
“Yeah?” He was moving closer. He didn’t know why, just knew that his feet were moving and his pants were tightening and Cas wasn’t blinking. “What’s that?”
“I would gladly follow you back into Hell.”
Everything kind of blurred together after that. The flood of emotion that came with the realization that he’d irrevocably sullied the only good and pure thing left in his life - a mix of happiness, sadness, desperation, guilt, and lust so strong that Cas was shoved up against a wall with Dean’s tongue down his throat.
It was so confusing that Dean wasn’t sure who he had in his hand, who was moaning, who was grinning and muttering something about being emotionless. And then Cas was on the floor beneath him, coat and tie shucked off and tossed into a corner, back flat on the cracked and grimy tiles, and Dean realized something.
He’d wanted this. Wanted it for a long time. Maybe the only thing he’d ever wanted for himself, and he was about to take it on a dirty bathroom floor, and that seemed wrong. After all, the angel had once demanded respect. Dean felt suddenly inclined to give it to him.
He closed his eyes, concentrated on getting up, on moving them away, somewhere nicer, and he felt fingers brush his forehead.
Dean opened his eyes to find himself lying on top of Castiel on a bed that was a hell of a lot nicer than the one in the motel. “Where are we?”
“Wherever you want to be.”
“You whammied me?”
“I whammied us.” Warm lips back on his own, distracting him. Breath surprisingly cool and fresh, like a meadow breeze, and then something tickled his bare legs.
Because, apparently, he’d taken his pants off. Cas’ too.
He broke the kiss long enough to look around him. Warm sunlight filtered through the blowing leaves of the trees that stood around them. Tall, lush grass cushioned the pair, and birds chirped overhead. “The hell?”
Cas stared up at him. “It has to be perfect. It has to be what you want.”
“What do you want?”
The angel smiled. “You.” Another kiss, shorter, sweeter. “Wherever you want, Dean. Whatever you want.”
And he had to think about that. Actually stop and think, worrying his lower lip with his teeth in a way that made Cas groan and buck against him. Because he’d never really given it any serious consideration before, hadn’t thought it important. He’d only bothered with what dad wanted, what Sam wanted.
“Why?” He had to know. He had to know because it had to be some kind of trick, something to make him let his guard down, give him what he wanted, and then take it all away.
A small smile, a soft hand brushing his cheek. “Because you’ve never given it any thought, and if anyone deserves it, it’s you. And I want it to be special. This time has to be special.”
“You’re gonna Fall, aren’t you?”
“I made a choice. I chose you.”
Dean felt himself matching the angel’s smile with gusto. He couldn’t think of one other time in his life when anyone had chosen him. It had always been Sam. Sam, or someone else. Someone normal. Someone worthy of warranting the choice. And for someone to pick him over Heaven? To think him worthy of everything? To make him relax fully, smile widely, and finally let himself admit what he’d been feeling since the start?
That was special.
That was love.
He closed his eyes, concentrated on the hidden nugget of selfishness he’d tucked away within his mind, the buried treasure of secret wants, and took them there.
Cas looked puzzled. “Where are we?”
The bed was soft, the floor carpeted, and the house still smelled of fresh paint. Photos of the two of them adorned the wall, their faces smiling out from the frames, happily doing the most mundane activities.
“Our home,” Dean whispered, no longer afraid of being judged, of being ridiculed, criticized. “Been thinking of it since we met.”
Blue eyes tracked across the room. “I like it.”
Dean felt himself smile. “I knew you would.” The place was small, lived-in despite it’s newer state, and the perfect place to start a family. Not that they could start a family, mind you. But they could be a family, and that was all that really mattered. It was all he really wanted.
And he could finally have it.
So they were in a bed - their bed - together, naked.
That was where it got interesting.
Because Dean had never done anything like this before, and he was pretty sure Cas hadn’t either, what with the whole threat-of-Falling thing. So it was new territory. New territory with some primed pumps and eager participants.
“Do you trust me?” Because he was going to need trust, was going to need reassurance that he was doing the right thing. Because he wasn’t going to hurt anyone else that he cared for.
“With my soul.”
And that was all he needed. That was all he’d ever needed, actually. He kissed the angel, trailing from lips to chin to neck to chest and lower, lower, always lower. Going down, down, down as the proverbial flame got higher. Hotter.
He’d been chosen, finally. Chosen by something he’d wanted, and that made it all the more special. He never would have asked, wouldn’t have tossed in into a conversation, thrown it out there so he could be ridiculed. He wouldn’t have asked anyone else to stay, because everyone left, and he was tired of that.
He pulled himself back up Castiel’s body and looked into the angel’s eyes. Into Jimmy’s eyes. And he stopped.
“I can’t do this.” Damn him and his self-sacrificing ways.
“Why not?”
“Jimmy.”
Cas glanced down between them and grinned. “I don’t see a problem with Jimmy.”
He wasn’t even gonna ask how the angel knew that one. “The guy.”
“He’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Heaven. I wish to stay this way, after. His absence was required.”
“So you killed him?”
“He’d given up.” There was sadness in the angel’s tone, a look in his eyes that Dean didn’t like. “He accepted his fate.” Their eyes met. “Do you accept yours?”
And somehow, Dean knew what that meant, knew what would happen if he went through with it. With everything. Knew what it would mean if they finished. “You’re trying to prove them wrong.”
A smile, small and sad and sweet. “They don’t believe we can feel. And they don’t believe in God. But they are wrong, and you will be saved.”
“And He’ll take you back?”
“If He doesn’t,” Cas whispered, “you will.” He leaned up, his lips below Dean’s ear, warm breath ghosting over warm flesh. “Drag me from Hell, Dean.”
The hunter slid his hands over Castiel’s chest and pushed hard, sending the angel back onto the bed. He reached for the table that hadn’t been there a moment before, the small tube that sat on it.
He was going back. If he did this, he was going back, and he didn’t care. Because the shit had hit the fan, and God had turned His back, and an angel claimed to love him. An angel looked him in the eyes with such trust and devotion that Dean couldn’t deny him. Not when he’d wanted this for so long himself.
He was slick and the angel was tight.
It felt like love.
It felt like love because Dean had known the truth for a while, didn’t need Cas to spell it out for him. He was tool, a blunt instrument to be used and thrown away. Thrown back into the fire that had forged him.
He wasn’t stupid. God had ordered him out, and then He had disappeared, and there would be no one to save him. No one but Cas. To keep the fire at bay, to keep him safe, human, sane. To wait for a daring rescue with him.
It was smart, really. Smart and wonderful, and the angel moaned, growled, scrabbled with short nails at his back. They would Fall when Heaven needed them most, when they were still useful. They would force God out of hiding, force Him to save them, and then use that as a shield. As protection. Warm wings wrapped around them both like a safety net as they got closer, as they got hotter, as the flames rose around them and the screams of the damned echoed off the walls.
It was love. It was right.
Dean burnt.
-.-
Flames surrounded them, shooting into a blood red sky. Shadows played across the dark stone around them, and a sad voice echoed overhead.
“He found us,” Castiel whispered, turning his eyes toward Dean. The hunter wasn’t listening, though. He was too busy staring at the thing he’d rolled off of just a few moments before.
It was brilliant. Made of bright blue light that ebbed and flowed with his emotional state. Blue eyes shining from a noseless face. The beauty of Castiel’s true form was almost enough to cancel out the pain that throbbed and pulsed around them.
He placed a shining hand on Dean’s shoulder and managed a weak smile. “It’ll be all right.”
Sam’s screams continued to echo off the walls around them, filtered through layers of earth and blood in order to torture them.
“He found us an hour ago,” Castiel said, fingers squeezing Dean’s naked flesh, marking his shoulder.
“Where?”
“The bathroom. He thought we were sleeping. He just realized he was wrong.”
Dean nodded slowly, finally pulling his eyes from the angel to stare at the destruction around them. At least he wasn’t on the rack. At least they were together.
But it was dark and it was cold and Sam’s screams and the screams of billions of others filled his ears. The smell of sulfur and blood permeated the air. He didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to do this. He felt himself starting to shake, the memories of his previous experience in Hell rushing back to him.
Something warm and bright and soft wrapped around him, falling over his shoulders. “They’ll come,” Cas whispered, his voice, even lowered, shaking the very foundations of the Pit.
“What if they don’t?”
“My wings are strong enough for two.”
“Thought I was supposed to drag you out.”
A smile, slight but still dazzling. “You will.” Their shadows stretched out behind them as a blazing light flooded the room, sending the pack of demons that had been circling them running back into the dank corners they’d crawled from.
Dean wrapped his arms around his angel and pressed their lips together as God personally ripped Hell apart looking for the world’s saving grace. He figured that was permission enough to cop a feel when they got back.