A day may come when my fanfiction ideas fail, when I forsake sad fanfics and break all bonds of heartache but it is not this day. An hour of sorrow and shattered hearts, when the age of fanfiction comes crashing down but it is not this day, this day we write. By all you hold dear on this good site I bid you stand, fans of the world!
And like that you can tell I'm bored :) But hey on a slightly more sane note I have another sad fic! Well it's kinda sad but gets better to the end :D Oh and just FYI this is NOT a destiel fic. (See that underlined, capitalized word That means Gemma is serious folks.)
The screams were piercing and they broke through the very foundation of the earth, sounding to the ears of mortals as simple quakes. The pain was unending, ripping through skin and bone, sending shivers up a spine that was then torn out. And amongst all the horror and bloodshed was an innocent man. His eyes were slowly closing and he never screamed except to shout the name of beloved ones; calling out in the hope that he'd be saved. His skin was shredded, his heart in tatters but his hope and faith were still alive; though even they were beginning to fade away against the darkness.
Dean Winchester was losing his faith, losing his hope that someone could take him from the darkness of Hell; out of the endless Pit of Perdition. But there was no demon with an offer of relief from the pain this time; no demon to offer him a blade that could cut away the pain of his own heart and take it upon those who deserved it more.
"Cass! Help!" Dean Winchester screamed, voice cracking from the loss of a voice box that had been torn out decades ago by the timing of Hell. There was no answer, no helping hand to pull Dean Winchester from the dark; there never was, no matter how many times he screamed, cursed or cried himself hoarse.
Unseen blades carved his skin, taking from him; his last shreds of hope, last shreds of faith, even the sliver of belief that had kept him going. "SAM!" Dean Winchester screamed in desperation one final time before his fading green eyes closed, the remnants of his lids not even covering the diminished irises.
And through the darkness a light shone. It whittled away at the black, shattering the murky, endless dusk and bringing hope in its wake. But to Dean Winchester it was not even there; though his eyelids were near non-existent the light never reached the green irises. Within the empty shell of he, there was no-one home, the occupant sleeping in a distant corner where not even the sun's gleaming hand could reach.
The light grew brighter as it approached, burning the rusted chains that held their prisoner to molten steel. It healed the broken limbs of the damned; bringing peace, faith and hope that rose belief within the souls of the Pit.
And from the darkness an Angel alighted next to the innocent prisoner of Hell, regarding him with a sorrow that stretched eons and shattered suns. The Angel reached out tentatively; hand hovering carefully over Dean Winchester's left arm, its shadow marking out an age-old scar. In his slumber, the innocent sensed the presence of light, of hope and faith that shouldn't have existed in such Hell.
Dean Winchester stirred, his soul being called from deep within to face the one with saving Grace. This Angel dusted his hand over the scar, aligning his palm and fingers with the familiar mark. Through the darkened curtains, Dean Winchester felt the pressure of a hand digging into his arm, fingers curled into his skin, pulling him past the dawn of pain and into an age of life.
Before his re-healed eyes there was a light, shimmering around an Angel who bore a grim expression. "Cass?" Dean Winchester whispered; the need to clasp hands with the Angel, to hug him was strong had it not been for his unused muscles. "I prayed to you," His lips were dry and cracked, the words just the same when they fluttered to life.
The Angel smiled but even that was grim as he clasped Dean Winchester's left hand in his free one as if making to greet him with a handshake.
"I pulled you from Perdition once Dean," The Angel confided in the innocent, "I can do it again."
And with that promise echoing through the great halls of Hell, the Angel tightened his hold on Dean Winchester and allowed his Grace to bring wings arching from his shoulder blades. If the demons and damned had thought the arriving light was brilliant then the appearance of the heavenly wings sent them scurrying for cover, crying and screaming in pain so intense that it nearly broke Hell.
With the burning light of the sun-lit Angel, the innocent and his rescuer left the sharp and broken ground of the Pit, souring for the heavens. Leaving behind his prison, Dean Winchester was lifted to a better place; a place of friendly faces that lend a helping hand when you fall and can't get up.
A place where those friendly faces had names, unlike those that rotted in Hell; names that Dean Winchester could recite from within his own slumber.
"Dean Winchester is saved," The call was sent through Angel radio for the second time in history and it was rejoiced by all in Heaven.
So did you like? I thought it twas very descriptive and honestly Gemma likey. :) ^_^ Personally one my favorites that I've written. So please review and tell me if you liked it. :D