So, as you've seen if you've read my profile, I am alive, and I've been getting into new fandoms. This is my first Supernatural story, and I have a Doctor Who one also lined up and ready to write. Hopefully I'll be updating this often. There are going to be some noticable differences between this and my other stories, though, if you've read my others.
This is going to contain romance, for one. It's not meant to be the main focus of the story, but there will be a fair amount of it. This is set right at the end of the season 8 finale. I decided to write from Dean's point of view and to actually include Destiel because in season 8, Dean finally started really opening up, showing a lot more of his feelings. Particularly in the season finale, in the conversation between him and Sam, he showed how much he cares about Sam, and I think he really feels similarly about Castiel, but never really got a chance to say it with everything that was happening. So yes, There will be Destiel. If you absolutely cannot stand the thought of them together, fine, don't read this. But I am going to be making a tremendous effort to actually write the characters correctly. No sudden perfect sappy out-of-character romance. I'm trying to focus more on capturing specific characters' personalities in my writing, so please, if you feel I'm writing one of them slightly off (or completely wrong, whatever), do review, and tell me so.
As mentioned, of course, this will involve some romantic scenes, nothing explicit, but there may be references to things that some people consider explicit. There will also be a fair amount of swearing, because if you hadn't noticed, they do that a lot. If you can't stand that either, then go ahead and don't read it, but I'm not going to rate it M.
Anyway, enjoy. Sorry that the first chapter is so short, there were a few places I could have ended it but this fit the best for the end of a chapter.
When the angels started falling, it was almost enough to make Dean forget everything else that was happening.
Understanding came immediately as he watched the streaks of light coming down, hand still on his brother's shoulder and face turned toward the heavens.
"No, Cas…" he murmured, as he realized that Naomi hadn't been lying—Metatron must have succeeded in banishing the angels from Heaven. That explained why his calls weren't being answered; the thought was accompanied by a sudden thrill of fear, both for Castiel's fate and their own without the help of the angel.
He watched with an open mouth the downward progress of the closest angel to them, streaking toward Earth like a comet, leaving a blazing trail in its wake. It smashed into the water near the chapel with immense force, causing the ground to quake around them. Sam jolted at the impact and Dean's hand fell from his shoulder.
"What's happening?" Sam forced out as Dean turned his head back toward the hundreds of other angels falling around them.
The entire thing was so overwhelming that it was a miracle that Dean managed to answer at all. "Angels," he said, barely registering his own voice as he continued to stare up at the sky. "They're falling."
The momentary trance was broken, however, when Sam gave another strangled gasp of pain, his body curling in on itself. Dean's gaze jerked back to his brother, and all thought of the angels plummeting to Earth around them was forgotten as he placed his hands back on Sam's shoulders.
"Sammy?" The hands on the younger hunter's shoulders were more to ground Dean than to offer comfort to Sam—Dean wasn't even sure that Sam knew where he was anymore.
"All right, I've gotta get you up, Sam," Dean said as he reached up with one hand and pulled open the passenger door of the Impala above them. He shifted, moving his hands below Sam's arms and hauling his upper body into the car.
Whereas a few minutes ago, Sam had been gasping for air, alternately clutching as his arms, ribs, and head, he was now silent, tightly shut eyes and tense muscles showing he hadn't slipped into unconsciousness, but unresponsive to either Dean's voice or the change in positions. He barely seemed to be breathing, and it freaked Dean out more than the gasping pain he'd been in before.
Dean shifted Sam so he was lying further across the bench seat and carefully folded his brother's legs into the space in front of the passenger side. Standing back, he ran a hand quickly through his hair in frustration as he glanced back at the chapel—he knew he couldn't leave Crowley in there, but it went against every instinct he possessed to leave Sam alone, even for a minute. Finally, with a growl of protective frustration and impatience, he shut the Impala's door and raced back into the building.
Crowley craned his neck back as Dean approached. "What's happening out there?" He asked. His voice sounded weak, higher pitched and less rough than usual, and it suddenly struck Dean how close they had been to actually "curing" the King of Hell. As he unhooked the chain binding Crowley's neck to the floor, he wondered if the effects of what Sam had already done would last, whether Crowley would remain mostly human or would revert back to being a demonic son of a bitch—and in the latter case, how long it would take.
"Dean, that you?" Crowley questioned again as the older hunter circled around to the front of the chair, unwinding the chain and then grasping him by the arms and yanking him upright.
"Come on," Dean growled, steering the stumbling demon out the front door and back to the Impala. Crowley looked up at the sky as they exited the chapel, still full of falling angels, and stuttered something, but Dean paid no attention as he hovered by the front of the car. He weighed his options carefully, wondering what the chances were of Crowley flinging his chained arms over the seat and strangling Dean while he drove, and briefly considered stuffing the demon into the trunk, but decided that he wanted Crowley in his line of sight and manhandled him into the back seat.
"Sit still and shut up," he said shortly before slamming the back door. He climbed into the driver's seat and looked down at Sam, who lay exactly where Dean had left him, face drawn even tighter into lines of pain. His breath came in short, slow, stuttering pants, rasping each time it was dragged in and out. "Hang in there, little brother," Dean said quietly as he pulled Sam's head into his lap and took off for home.