drabble: may angels lead you in
Nov. 11th, 2008 12:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iliaI finally got around to starting to tackle my backlog.
Title: may angels lead you in
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel
Rating: PG
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dangerous_47. I don't know what inspired this. My mind/muse is in a weird place.
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"The world's ending," Dean chokes on the words; lips, tongue and teeth painted with bright blood. His green eyes are sightless though his hand clutches weakly at Castiel's arm.
"Yes," Castiel says, not heeding the beginning of the apocalypse, simply cradling the dying warrior in his arms, giving him whatever comfort he can during his last moments. It is only a small mercy, but he knows that soon small mercies--a final farewell, a quick, painless death--will be all they have.
"M'sorry," Dean gasps as blood fills his lungs and his spirit weakens, steadily beginning to drift from the flesh which houses it. Sorry, I couldn't stop it. Wasn't good enough. Never enough. My fault. Oh god, Sammy. Sammy! I couldn't save Sammy.
"Shh," Castiel hushes him. "Be still."
Castiel feels as if he's burning, though the fires of hell have not yet erupted. The world blurs through the eyes of his vessel.
"Cas?" Dean's breathing is labored, his face ashen.
There are droplets of water anointing Dean's face.
Tears? I'm...weeping?
Dean convulses in his arms, fighting for a breath that does not come.
Castiel clutches him closer. "Pax," he murmurs against Dean's forehead, praying for the agony of mortality to end.
Dean stills.
Title: may angels lead you in
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel
Rating: PG
Notes: For
dangerous_47. I don't know what inspired this. My mind/muse is in a weird place.--------
"The world's ending," Dean chokes on the words; lips, tongue and teeth painted with bright blood. His green eyes are sightless though his hand clutches weakly at Castiel's arm.
"Yes," Castiel says, not heeding the beginning of the apocalypse, simply cradling the dying warrior in his arms, giving him whatever comfort he can during his last moments. It is only a small mercy, but he knows that soon small mercies--a final farewell, a quick, painless death--will be all they have.
"M'sorry," Dean gasps as blood fills his lungs and his spirit weakens, steadily beginning to drift from the flesh which houses it. Sorry, I couldn't stop it. Wasn't good enough. Never enough. My fault. Oh god, Sammy. Sammy! I couldn't save Sammy.
"Shh," Castiel hushes him. "Be still."
Castiel feels as if he's burning, though the fires of hell have not yet erupted. The world blurs through the eyes of his vessel.
"Cas?" Dean's breathing is labored, his face ashen.
There are droplets of water anointing Dean's face.
Tears? I'm...weeping?
Dean convulses in his arms, fighting for a breath that does not come.
Castiel clutches him closer. "Pax," he murmurs against Dean's forehead, praying for the agony of mortality to end.
Dean stills.
