"Where do you think you're going?" Cas growls, his dark, looming presence seeming to take up the whole alleyway. Dean steps into place behind their target, ready for him to run. Castiel may not look the part on the surface, but somehow they know. Maybe, like Dean, they can feel the dark power emanating from him, that heady, sexy –
"I, look man, I just –" He's edging backward as he mumbles, and it's not long now. The guy turns and breaks into a run, and Dean steps up, knife held at the ready.
"Boo."
The guy nearly shits himself. He's stopped dead in his tracks, and Dean takes advantage easily, kicking the guy's legs out from under him. "Looks like we got ourselves a real fighter here, Cas." The man isn't even bothering to get back up, whimpering pathetically as he tries to edge away from Dean.
It puts him right back in Castiel's path, and the angel steps up to meet him. His right foot comes down on the man's wrist, and Dean nearly misses the crunch of bone under the screaming. He's squirming and crying and trying with all he's got to pull away, but Castiel isn't human. The only way this guy is getting away is if Cas lets him go, and that's not going to happen.
"What the hell? Man, please," Castiel's eyes seem to glow as he begs, and Dean can barely keep his hands off of his partner at this point. The angel loves it when they're pathetic little pieces of shit.
"Shut up." Dean tells him, advancing with the knife. He brandishes it before him, lithe blade glinting in the small amount of light left in the alleyway. His eyes flicker over the black-clad figure, picking out the best places to slash and stab. He can practically feel the hot blood bubbling up over his hands, the shaking of a man in his death throws; Dean's hard in his jeans, can't wait to plunge his fist into sloppy entrails…
He's down on his knees between the struggling man's legs, knife poised and ready, blood pounding though his veins when Cas lays a hand on his shoulder. "Wait. I want him." Dean nearly creams himself on the spot.
Castiel crouches down, grabs the guy by the neck. He lifts his foot just enough to free the man's hand, and then Cas yanks him up and slams him against the wall. His eyes are blazing like fire, dark energy radiating from him – Dean moves to the wall next to them and palms himself though his pants.
"This is judgment," The angel declares, voice rough as sandpaper, "Time to account for your sins."
He's affected by it too. Dean can feel the excitement when Cas raises a finger, the tip glowing white hot. "What, what are you doing?" For some reason the bastard is still squirming against Castiel's hold, and Dean grins. The more he keeps that up, the further gone the angel's going to get.
"Was it worth it, murdering all those women?" Castiel demands, drawing the lit fingertip down the man's chest. The smell of burnt hair and fabric fill the air as he screams yet again, shirt falling open where it's been singed away. Skin bubbles up, red and angry. It's only act one though – Cas wants the soul.
"No, no, no" He cries, great sobbing breaths splitting the air and it's going straight to Dean's cock.
"Play with him," Dean moans, "draw it out," It's too good to have Castiel destroy him just yet. He pops the button, wriggles the hand not holding the knife into his boxers. "Fuck."
Castiel turns to watch him for a moment, tongue slipping over lips of burnt rose. And then he's plunging his hand into the man's chest.
"Yes," Dean sighs. Screams drown out all other sound, but he knows Castiel can hear him. He's gorgeous like this; intense and dangerous as he drags live wires against the filthy soul. He's practically shaking with the need to hold back – soul right there at his fingertips – but Dean knows Cas will let him finish this. Which, "Cas, please, going to fucking cum,"
"Dean," He's taken aback every time, so shocked by how much Dean needs this. "Kill him."
The man faints as Castiel pulls his hand back, but that won't do. Not at all. Dean slips in between Castiel and their victim, raising a hand.
He's caught off guard when Castiel's free arm winds its way around him, hand insistent against his cock as the angel pulls Dean against the bulge in his own pants. It's too much – Dean gasps, lets his head fall back against Castiel's shoulder. He'll just kill the fucker. No more drawing this out.
He lets the blade slip down the man's chest, tracing the lines of muscle – muscle used to kill and rape young women – and gets a thrill from the righteous anger knowing he'll be the one to end this coward. A couple quick, shallow stabs, the man gasps his way back into consciousness, and Dean's located all of the ribs in his way. "Say goodbye, bitch."
Dean plunges the knife directly into the heart, and Castiel twists his wrist along with Dean's grip on the knife. He comes with a shout as the blood begins to dribble out from around the hilt of his knife, wetting the first fingers of his fist. He lets himself lean back into the hard line of his angel's body, riding the aftershocks as his fingers probe around the edges of his knife, urging the cavity wider.
Castiel's fingers slip around his, and Dean can feel the sudden heat that accompanies a soul being ripped from a live victim. The angel devours it hungrily. Total destruction.
Dean opens his eyes just in time to see the body fall from Castiel's grip and fall in a crumpled heap. The avenging angel is already thrusting against his ass, urging Dean forward against the wall to kick the body aside, too many hands ripping at his jeans, tugging his legs apart.
And Dean? He's more than happy to comply, pushing his ass out like heaven's whore to receive his unholy communion.