Fic: Hell [SPN]
Mar. 18th, 2009 12:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iliaTitle/Prompt: Hell
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel
Rating: PG
Word Count: 391
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sacred_20. (Surprised? I was too!) Not betaed so blame me for everything.
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Castiel watches, an invisible guardian, as Dean Winchester, alone and intoxicated, stares at his hands with an oxymoronic combination of fascination and revulsion.
“You pulled me from Hell.”
It seems that Castiel could not completely veil himself from his charge, not unless he puts effort into doing so. Usually, humans were all too eager to ignore his presence among them. Odd, that Dean’s ability to recognize his presence does not trouble him.
“I did,” Castiel concurs as he stands, as an unmoving sentinel, at Dean’s shoulder.
“It’s not a place, right?” Dean, despite having finished off a considerable amount of alcohol, does not slur. “It’s not…physical, can’t drive there, can I?”
“It is--” Castiel pauses, tries to find mortal words that don’t quite fit in order to answer. “It is a place, yet not. It is not physical in the sense that you know it. It exists, it has a location in the fabric of Creation. It has rules which cannot be challenged, but they are not the ones that apply here.” Castiel stops, feels the description insufficient to express the true reality, and knows that a better one could not be found without other means, supernatural means.
“So it wasn’t my hands,” Dean murmurs. “Didn’t tear into them with my hands, with my body. Was my soul, wasn’t it? Cas? I tore into their souls with mine, didn’t I?” Dean’s breathing has become quick, his eyes wet, his voice rough and pained as if taxed, as if he’d used it for the hours of screaming he kept suppressed.
“Yes,” Castiel answers with measured reluctance.
“It’s inside me,” Dean chokes on the words. “Bits of hell inside me,” he repeats with disgust as he clenches his hands with unforgiving force.
Castiel moves forward, one hand gripping Dean’s shoulder, providing him an anchor, while his other hand reaches to turn Dean’s face, to meet his pained eyes and the tattered soul behind them.
“Yes, but I am there as well,” Castiel says fiercely. “There are pieces of me within you, Dean Winchester, and they far exceed the meager clinging particles of Hell waiting to be banished, capable of being cast away from you.”
Dean’s skin is warm against his vessel’s hand, his breath foul.
“I’ve got angel bits in me? That’s kinda kinky, Cas.”
Dean Winchester’s smile--no matter how broken and torn--is real. It is a gift to be treasured.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel
Rating: PG
Word Count: 391
Notes: For
sacred_20. (Surprised? I was too!) Not betaed so blame me for everything.--------
Castiel watches, an invisible guardian, as Dean Winchester, alone and intoxicated, stares at his hands with an oxymoronic combination of fascination and revulsion.
“You pulled me from Hell.”
It seems that Castiel could not completely veil himself from his charge, not unless he puts effort into doing so. Usually, humans were all too eager to ignore his presence among them. Odd, that Dean’s ability to recognize his presence does not trouble him.
“I did,” Castiel concurs as he stands, as an unmoving sentinel, at Dean’s shoulder.
“It’s not a place, right?” Dean, despite having finished off a considerable amount of alcohol, does not slur. “It’s not…physical, can’t drive there, can I?”
“It is--” Castiel pauses, tries to find mortal words that don’t quite fit in order to answer. “It is a place, yet not. It is not physical in the sense that you know it. It exists, it has a location in the fabric of Creation. It has rules which cannot be challenged, but they are not the ones that apply here.” Castiel stops, feels the description insufficient to express the true reality, and knows that a better one could not be found without other means, supernatural means.
“So it wasn’t my hands,” Dean murmurs. “Didn’t tear into them with my hands, with my body. Was my soul, wasn’t it? Cas? I tore into their souls with mine, didn’t I?” Dean’s breathing has become quick, his eyes wet, his voice rough and pained as if taxed, as if he’d used it for the hours of screaming he kept suppressed.
“Yes,” Castiel answers with measured reluctance.
“It’s inside me,” Dean chokes on the words. “Bits of hell inside me,” he repeats with disgust as he clenches his hands with unforgiving force.
Castiel moves forward, one hand gripping Dean’s shoulder, providing him an anchor, while his other hand reaches to turn Dean’s face, to meet his pained eyes and the tattered soul behind them.
“Yes, but I am there as well,” Castiel says fiercely. “There are pieces of me within you, Dean Winchester, and they far exceed the meager clinging particles of Hell waiting to be banished, capable of being cast away from you.”
Dean’s skin is warm against his vessel’s hand, his breath foul.
“I’ve got angel bits in me? That’s kinda kinky, Cas.”
Dean Winchester’s smile--no matter how broken and torn--is real. It is a gift to be treasured.
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Date: 2009-03-26 01:27 am (UTC)