Scorched Wings By CoffeeAndDestiel
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: Character Death
Rating: PG-13 (Because I'm very paranoid about children.)
When an Angel dies, it leaves behind its wings. When Cas dies, he would rather leave behind something more special. From the prompt 'What if Cas died in Deans arms and left scorched wing marks on his skin for the rest of his life.'
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If you were to ask Dean how it started, he would probably say it was the moment he realised that it was Castiel working with Crowley. No matter how much he wanted to hate the angel, he couldn't find it in him to do so. He wanted to save him, pull him away from all the hurt that was going to come to Castiel when he realised exactly what he done.
Dean slowly became aware of just how much Cas meant to him.
So, if it started there, inside the Salvage, why did it have to end here? With Castiel's promise to make amends with them fulfilled, with a dying angel in his lap. Dean cradled Cas' neck in his arms, cursing the bastard for doing what he did. For throwing himself in front of a Blade so easily.
But no matter how much Dean wanted it to be untrue, Cas was still dying.
Those great, icy blue eyes gazed up at him, a small smile curling around those lips, and all the guilt that had plagued Cas' soul seemed to wash away with the blood on the concrete. The angel was shaking, obviously in pain, but still smiled, because it was Deans arms he was dying in, he wasn't alone.
But what happened next was not what Dean had expected.
Weakened hands were pushing him away, and the smile quivered, eyes quickly changing to fear as the angel realised what was coming next, as he felt it in his bones.
He struggled, and though he was weak and cold, managed to separate himself from the hunter. "Cas', what-" was all Dean managed to say, when Cas' body stilled suddenly, eyes freezing, and it happens. The brilliant, blinding explosion of white light. The great, black, ash wings curl out, starting red, lines like tiny trails of red hot, melted iron, feathers branching out like leaves on a vine, charring the concrete with a beautiful pattern.
Dean shuddered, wanting to reach out to Cas' body, but afraid of the cold he'd find. Dean felt anger begin to boil up in his chest, but at the same time, he felt loneliness, and misery. He had never felt isolated like this, not since after his mothers death.
When Cas first came, Dean had never thought an angel would be the one to save him, and he certainly never thought he'd have feelings for the idiot in a trench coat.
The said coat, drenched with his own and demon's blood.
—
Yeah, sorry about this. I don't know what I was thinking, I was just listening to some music (Ben Cocks - So Cold, in case you were wondering) and it popped into my head. I remembered reading the prompt somewhere, and the feels kinda just melted out. I've never written Supernatural fan fiction before so forgive this.