Title: We Hurt The One's We Love
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: Very Dark!Dean
spoilers: blanket spoilers for everything
Summary: Castiel is deluding himself if he thinks he will save Dean Winchester
Notes: So I read 9_of_clubs drabble All Except One and what can I say I got inspired. I've never written DarkDean before, this is my very first. I hope you enjoy. [9_of_clubs has even bata this, I am in awe :D thank you sweetie!]
Disclaimer: I don't own it if I did, well it would be R rated for the whole of season 5!
We Hurt The Ones We Love.
The metal is heavy; it rubs his skin almost raw in places, as he twists around to stare out of the small window above him. He's chained to the wall, his ankles and wrists bound in metal and magic - symbols drawn on the floor and the walls. To keep him in, keep him safe and locked up all at once.
He chose this, this prison of stone and magic and flesh, and though it makes his skin crawl and his blood boil he knows that given the chance he wouldn't leave. He can't.
It's ironic in a way.
Watching as the sun goes down through the basement window, he can hear the distant echoes of screams and shouts. Some are gleeful, others terrified. And it's the terrified ones that give him comfort in an odd sort of way, because it means there are still people out their who care. Who haven't given up and in a way that fills him with a tragic kind of hope, because he knows all to well that he is lost. Will never see the light and a part of him just doesn't care.
He'll come soon, always when it's dark. Sometimes he talks to him, sometimes he doesn't bother, but every night ends the same. Ends with him broken and bleeding on the floor, whimpering into the cold concrete as he leaves him. Disgust clearly written on his face as he slams the door shut behind him.
Dean Winchester.
A man he's so in love, with that he forsook heaven because he truly believed, still believes - that if he loves him enough, forgives him his every sin, that he can still bring him back from what he has fallen to. What he has become. It's futile of course, because he doesn't listen, doesn't care. The only thing that gives him pleasure, it would seem, is the sound of his screams and whispered prayers... to a God who doesn't listen, and a man he can't stop loving. The one who can't stop hurting, not just the angel, but himself.
The sun has set now, and the echoing sound of footsteps make him tense up - his nails digging into his palms, as his stomach flip flops inside of him. Some part of him wants this, even craves it, in a sick kind of way. But he is terrified, terrified, that one day he'll just give in and he can't do that, he wont.
He will save him, if it's the last thing he does - he'll save Dean Winchester because he did it before and he'll do it again.
The sound of a lock clicking has him standing now, a slight wince to his movements. Though still an Angel, he is cut off from Heaven and from grace and can no longer heal his vessel like he used to. And Dean is not forgiving, is not tender and kind and loving. He is brutal and harsh, he is pain and blood and pleasure all mixed up into something that even Castiel doubts is human any more.
The door opens and boots start to descend down creaking wooden steps. He stands tall, ready to face him, ready for the fight that will follow, the fight for Dean's soul. And he steels himself for the image of hardened green eyes and tanned skin stained with blood and dirt.
Castiel used to ask him, in the early days, what he did during the hours when he was locked away from the world. Cut off from the heavenly host and everything else. And Dean would tell him in great detail. So Castiel doesn't ask not want to know what Hell's first Lieutenant does during the waking hours.
He's there now, standing before him and he's holding something, something sliver and long and Cas's eyes grow wide, he can't help it. Lucifer's sword, the one taken from Anna before Sam, no not Sam anymore, but Lucifer killed her. And he gulps. Swallowing down the bile rising in his throat as Dean smirks and pulls up a chair. Flips it around and sits down, his arms resting on the back of it. The sword dangling loosely in one hand, as he cocks his head to the side and licks his lower lip slowly, wetly, before biting down on it with a smile.
"Ya know.....he wants you dead, your brother"
"Lucifer, is no brother of mine" and for a moment Castiel is as he used to be, cold, heartless, terrifying in his anger and intensity. Before it fades away under Dean's intense gaze, as he stalks towards his Angel; breathing ragged as his eyes drag over the lithe form.
Castiel doesn't were clothes, Dean told him there wasn't really any point, but he does allow the angel a blanket which the other uses to cover himself up whenever he stands. It isn't much of a cover, but it suffices.
"I'm going to make you scream"
"You say that every night"
"I'm going to make you bleed"
"I know"
"Do you love me?"
"Always"
And he can't look away, God help him he can't, because this is what it is about, this right here. Love, trust, forgiveness, all the things Dean doesn't think he deserves. All the things he thinks are far far beyond him now. But they are not. And he'll make him see that, make Dean realize that he can be saved, if he'd just let Castiel save him.
"I can't love.....not anymore"
"Then I will have to love enough for both of us"
"Do you forgive me?"
"Yes" he whisperers.
Castiel says nothing now, as Dean leans in towards him and brushes their lips together. This kiss is brutal, demanding and Castiel leans into it as much as the chains will let him. Because he refuses to fight Dean, he won't let the other take advantage of him, not like that. Instead, he will give himself willing - because if he doesn't... he knows that if, no - when - he brings Dean back, the green eyed man will hate himself for it. So he gives in willingly, wantonly. Praying with every fiber of his being that what he is doing is right, that it will save Dean.
Dean pulls back from the kiss with another smirk. And Castiel has a moment to catch his breath, before he feels a sharp stab of pain to his gut and looks down. Lucifer's sword, is slicing into him, not enough to kill - but enough to hurt like hell. And he bites down on the scream working it's way up his throat, as Dean pulls back a little and smiles. Slow and cruel and cold.
And Castiel knows that tonight is going to be bad.
¬Fin¬