Author's note: Ok, this is my first fanfiction on this site so any kind of review/feedback is extremely appreciated! This is a Destiel fanfic which takes place during the time Dean and Castiel are in Purgatory. Please let me know what you think and enjoy!
Disclaimer: You all know I don't own Supernatural, but I've gotta put it in writing, so here you go; I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters.
Sacrifice.
Castiel's vessel is heavy in Dean's arms. There is blood soaking through his jeans, and for one infinite moment Dean is fascinated by the colour of it, vivid red and bright in the darkness. He's killed so many creatures over the past (days? months? years?), and watched their blood drain slowly from their bodies; purple blood that stains the skin, black blood that oozes slowly like treacle, green blood that bubbles and hisses dangerously like acid and burns, but the liquid coating his fingers is a deep, rich crimson. The air is heavy with a bitter, metallic tang which Dean can taste on his lips, and it makes him want to vomit.
"Cas?"
Dean feels a rush of relief when Castiel lets out a weak groan, but it turns to despair at the sight of the three long, deep slashes across the angel's abdomen, where the creature's claws have ripped through the pale flesh. Cas' powers have been fading since the moment they woke up in Purgatory, and even as Dean peels back the hospital scrubs, he can see that the wounds aren't healing themselves. He knows what it means, that he's too late, that there's nothing he can do, but it doesn't stop him from pressing down, eliciting a pained moan from the injured man.
"Cas, you stupid son of a bitch," Dean murmurs with no real vehemence. The monster is lying a few feet away, Dean's blade embedded deep in its chest, but Dean doesn't care; his eyes are focused completely on the angel, his angel. Cas coughs, splattering Dean's sleeve with tiny red droplets, and struggles to speak.
"Had to, Dean. Keep you safe," he wheezes, clutching weakly at Dean's tattered shirt.
"You thought getting yourself killed would keep me safe, huh?" Dean growls as he presses down harder, unable to keep the anger from his voice. Cas doubles over with a cry, and Dean curses under his breath as he eases him back to the ground. It's his fault; he should've been more alert, should've noticed the creature in the tree behind him. He'd heard Cas call out his name, felt two hands push him out of the way as the creature leapt from the branches with an ear-splitting screech, then he'd hit the ground. Dazed, he'd scrambled to his feet in time to see a huge, winged monster toss Castiel's broken body like a piece of trash. In that moment, something ignited in his veins and before he could think, he'd pulled his knife from his belt and threw himself towards the creature. It was dead before it hit the ground.
"Dean..." Cas reaches up with a shaking hand and cups Dean's jaw, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "It's okay."
No, Dean wants to scream, no it's no okay. Not even close. Instead, he pulls Cas closer, feeling the wetness soak through his shirt and stain his skin. Cas' hand is warm against his cheek, thumb grazing softly over his cheekbone almost soothingly, though his breath is coming in short, ragged gasps, and Dean can feel the tremors running through him. Dean closes his eyes and leans forward into the touch, and then the memory strikes him.
"My soul."
Cas' brow furrows slightly in confusion as Dean gently takes the hand from his cheek and places it on his chest. Cas' eyes widen as he realizes what Dean is suggesting.
"No..." he protests, attempting to pull his hand away, but Dean holds on tight.
"Cas, you do it."
"Can't... weaken you," Cas manages to rasp, but Dean doesn't let go.
"I don't care", he states, without even having to think. Cas betrayed him, he betrayed them all and Dean will never forget how much pain the angel put them through. But Cas has done everything and anything to make amends, and Dean will be damned if he's going to let Cas die here, surrounded by the cold and the dark. Cas would walk to the ends of the Earth and back to save Dean, risked his life to protect him, and Dean's going to do whatever it takes to save Cas, even it requires a small sacrifice on his part.
"Why?" comes the whispered question. Dean can see the anguish in his eyes, and a voice echoes in his mind, a memory of the day they first met, stood together in that dilapidated old barn. You don't think you deserve to be saved. Dean recognizes that look in Castiel's eyes, the conflict and the guilt, and it hurts him to the core, because after all this time, Castiel still doesn't understand.
He places his hand over Cas' on his chest, interlacing their fingers. "Because I forgive you. Because I need you. Because I love you, God damn it. So do it." Then, before Castiel can say a word, he presses their lips together in a kiss. Castiel's lips are soft against his, and it would be perfect, but he can taste blood on his tongue, mingled with the salty taste of tears. He didn't even realise he was crying. It only lasts a moment before Castiel sighs into Dean's mouth, then goes completely limp in his arms. Dean pulls back, heart hammering in his chest, to see that Cas' eyes are closed.
"Cas?" Dean still has one hand covering Cas' against his chest, the other cradling his shoulders as he frantically scans Cas' face. The expression on his face is one of complete serenity, and Dean's heart drops. "No, no," he whispers, and his fingers tighten around Castiel's. "No. come on. Cas!"
Suddenly, without warning, the scar on his shoulder begins to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns. It's excruciating, and Dean screams in agony as the heat pierces his flesh like a knife. The room fills with a bright white light and Dean closes his eyes, instantly remembering Zachariah, and the sight of black wings burned into the ground. The heat spreads to his chest, under the skin where Castiel's hand rests, and Dean is forced to let go of Cas' hand when it become too hot to hold, and he can feel his skin beginning to blister and burn.
He expects Cas' hand to fall, but it remains pressing against Dean's chest, and that's when Dean realizes what is happening. Cas is alive, there are no black wings and Cas' hand is pushing into his chest to touch his soul. Dean cries out again as Castiel's hand enters his chest, but then they are kissing again, Cas' lips pressing against his desperately. It's not a gentle kiss like the first one, but it's intense and passionate and Dean kisses back just as fiercely. He doesn't know if this is wrong or if it's right, but he knows without a doubt that Castiel wants this as much as he does. They've been walking this path for so long now, and this kiss is the culmination of it all; the 'profound bond', the meaningful looks, the fact that no matter what happens, somehow they always end up together. Their relationship is complex and difficult, but it really comes down to one simple fact; this is love. Castiel's fingertips are brushing across the surface of his soul now, and Dean knows this should be painful as hell, but he doesn't care as Cas's tongue swipes across his teeth and he moans. It's not graceful, all tongues and teeth, but it's real and that's what matters.
When the light fades, Castiel falls back, Dean's arm supporting him before he hits the ground. Dean opens his eyes to see that Castiel's wounds are healed, leaving behind three pale white scars. The angel's face is pale and drawn, but his eyes are open. Dean's whole body is shaking, partly due to the fact that Cas just stuck a hand into his soul, and partly due to the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It takes a moment for them both to get their breath back.
"Are you okay, Dean?"
Dean stares down at Cas incredulously. "After all that, you want to know if I'm okay?" Castiel doesn't answer, and Dean can see that he's exhausted, an unfamiliar sensation for the angel. "You should get some sleep."
"No," Cas mutters, but already his eyes are closing. Dean waits until his breathing has evened out, carefully watching the rise and fall of his chest, all too aware of how close he came to losing the only thing he still has left down here. His own eyes are burning, but he ignores it, determined to give Cas all the rest he needs. He can't even count the number of times Cas has watched over him while he slept, protecting him from the beasts that lurk in the shadows, and now it's time to return the favour. Cas' angel blade lies a few yards away and Dean picks it up, testing the weight of it in his palm. The blade is too short for his liking, but it's the only weapon within reach.
He's not stupid; he knows they'll have to talk about this at some point. Tomorrow, a couple of days maybe, but for now, it can wait. For the moment, Dean is content to sit here and hold Cas through the night. It's just one small sacrifice he's willing to make.