“This isn’t one of your movies, Dean,” Castiel tells him blandly. “Happy ending is not guaranteed.”
“So if you don’t get charged on those souls-”
“I die.” Castiel shrugs. “Today, tomorrow. Soon. Crowley will not be able to withstand Raphael’s wrath. The Apocalypse we derailed will be back on track. Everything Sam sacrificed, everything you did will be undone.”
Dean stands motionless, unable to absorb it all at once. They have been through things beyond someone’s most twisted imagination. It shouldn’t be possible for this to become any worse, and yet, here they are.
“Dean,” Castiel says softly. “I know it’s a lot to ask after what I’ve done…”
Dean raises his head numbly, looking at him. “What, Cas?”
Cas takes a hesitant step closer. “I need to know that you can - that maybe some day if we live that long - that you-”
“What?”
“That you can forgive me.”
Dean closes his eyes. “Cas...”
The angel moves closer to him warily, like a moth drawn in by the flame. “My choices, however misguided, could be the key to this world’s salvation or demise, but I… find that I don’t wish to continue if you” - his voice falls to a whisper - “hate me.”
“Cas.” Dean looks at him, blinking rapidly as his eyes burn. “I can’t be your God.”
“No,” Castiel says softly, so close, Dean can almost taste his words. “You’re the man I chose of my own free will.”
Dean groans, pain sharper than the tortures of Hell seizing him, and he yanks Cas forward blindly, slotting their lips together roughly in a hard, desperate kiss. Everything Dean feels is pouring into it - hurt, anguish, the sheer injustice of it all, and the burning, scathing refusal to accept that this is his choice, this is what it’s come to - sacrifice his good conscience or lose Cas, forever this time. And with the thought of the loss that hasn’t yet happened, Dean growls into the kiss, clawing at Castiel’s clothes, pulling him impossibly closer, Dean’s hands twisted in the damn trenchcoat as he loses himself in the inhumanly sweet, wet warmth of Castiel’s mouth.
“You can’t die,” Dean breathes, wrenching himself away at last, gripping Cas’ shoulders tightly. “You can’t, Cas. You can’t.”
“I was only trying to protect you,” Castiel whispers, gaze slowly lifting from Dean’s mouth to his eyes. “Please, Dean. I l-”
Dean presses his palm against Castiel’s lips. “I know,” he says, staring down at the ground. “I, um... you know. Me too.” He swallows. “Just… don’t lie to me again.”
Castiel nods slowly, the motion making his lips slide against Dean’s palm like an exquisite caress. Dean lets go, and Cas says softly, “Thank you.”
Dean wants to pull him back in, the temptation almost overwhelming, but he manages to resist, if not to step back. Castiel’s hand touches his own gently, fingers squeezing lightly for a brief moment, and then with a sound of flapping wings, Castiel is gone.
Dean doesn’t know how long he stands motionless, alone in the dark backyard, staring out into space. He comes to with a wince, picks up the bottle, and with a resolute nod to the frowning sky, finishes it.
Re: 24 hours later 3/3tiptoe39May 7 2011, 22:40:11 UTC
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS oh god so hurty good. if i ever get a masochistic urge from now on I'm coming to you. Unf!!!! <3 <3 *sobs*
“This isn’t one of your movies, Dean,” Castiel tells him blandly. “Happy ending is not guaranteed.”
“So if you don’t get charged on those souls-”
“I die.” Castiel shrugs. “Today, tomorrow. Soon. Crowley will not be able to withstand Raphael’s wrath. The Apocalypse we derailed will be back on track. Everything Sam sacrificed, everything you did will be undone.”
Dean stands motionless, unable to absorb it all at once. They have been through things beyond someone’s most twisted imagination. It shouldn’t be possible for this to become any worse, and yet, here they are.
“Dean,” Castiel says softly. “I know it’s a lot to ask after what I’ve done…”
Dean raises his head numbly, looking at him. “What, Cas?”
Cas takes a hesitant step closer. “I need to know that you can - that maybe some day if we live that long - that you-”
“What?”
“That you can forgive me.”
Dean closes his eyes. “Cas...”
The angel moves closer to him warily, like a moth drawn in by the flame. “My choices, however misguided, could be the key to this world’s salvation or demise, but I… find that I don’t wish to continue if you” - his voice falls to a whisper - “hate me.”
“Cas.” Dean looks at him, blinking rapidly as his eyes burn. “I can’t be your God.”
“No,” Castiel says softly, so close, Dean can almost taste his words. “You’re the man I chose of my own free will.”
Dean groans, pain sharper than the tortures of Hell seizing him, and he yanks Cas forward blindly, slotting their lips together roughly in a hard, desperate kiss. Everything Dean feels is pouring into it - hurt, anguish, the sheer injustice of it all, and the burning, scathing refusal to accept that this is his choice, this is what it’s come to - sacrifice his good conscience or lose Cas, forever this time. And with the thought of the loss that hasn’t yet happened, Dean growls into the kiss, clawing at Castiel’s clothes, pulling him impossibly closer, Dean’s hands twisted in the damn trenchcoat as he loses himself in the inhumanly sweet, wet warmth of Castiel’s mouth.
“You can’t die,” Dean breathes, wrenching himself away at last, gripping Cas’ shoulders tightly. “You can’t, Cas. You can’t.”
“I was only trying to protect you,” Castiel whispers, gaze slowly lifting from Dean’s mouth to his eyes. “Please, Dean. I l-”
Dean presses his palm against Castiel’s lips. “I know,” he says, staring down at the ground. “I, um... you know. Me too.” He swallows. “Just… don’t lie to me again.”
Castiel nods slowly, the motion making his lips slide against Dean’s palm like an exquisite caress. Dean lets go, and Cas says softly, “Thank you.”
Dean wants to pull him back in, the temptation almost overwhelming, but he manages to resist, if not to step back. Castiel’s hand touches his own gently, fingers squeezing lightly for a brief moment, and then with a sound of flapping wings, Castiel is gone.
Dean doesn’t know how long he stands motionless, alone in the dark backyard, staring out into space. He comes to with a wince, picks up the bottle, and with a resolute nod to the frowning sky, finishes it.
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Thank you.
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Thanks. :)
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oh boys boys i love you please can this be the real life please
thank you so much this is gorgeous.
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