Demolition Lovers
I would drive to the edge with you,
A liquor store or two,
Keeps the gas tank full.
And I feel like there's nothing left to do,
But prove myself to you
And we'll keep it running.
~Demolition Lovers, My Chemical Romance
Angels, lift me,
Are you, with me,
I'm holdin' on to you,
Like I'm holdin' on to white balloons,
Carry me away,
I hope that you don't break.
~White Balloons, Sick Puppies
Dean gasped for air. He had died and he had been to hell. Or he thought he did. It didn't feel like hell. It felt like home. He had liked the screams of the damned. The very sound filled him up with the same pleasure and ecstasy that he thought only a night out with Castiel could bring. The only really bad thing was the smell. Dean became nervous. The smell should have been the first on a very long list of everything he hated about hell. He closed his eyes. The earthly air felt odd on his face. Out of place, like it was never meant to touch him. Dean opened his eyes and blinked against the sudden brightness.
"Dean?" Dean turned to the speaker. Sam's lanky frame dripped with uncertainty. Dean had a sudden, overpowering urge to snarl at him so he would recoil. Sam's fear was absolutely delicious…wait, was that right?
"This is a good look for you, Dean-o," commented Crowley. Dean turned to him sharply.
"What look? What did you do?" Crowley chuckled.
"I believe this one's on you, Moose." Dean swung his head to look at Sam. Sam shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.
"Uh, we brought you back Dean." Sam started nervously. Dean rolled his eyes.
"Thanks, Captain Obvious…"
"And uh, because you took the Mark of Cain, you came back as uh…" Sam looked away.
"A what, Sammy?"
"A demon." said a very different and gravelly voice. Dean whipped to face it.
Castiel stood in his customary trench coat, blue eyes bluer than ever, but so sad and tired. Dean almost couldn't take it. Dean saw the fallen body of Metatron beside the, wait, scratch that, his angel. Cas was his and always would be, demon or not. Dean had another sudden and ridiculous urge to go to the fallen archangel and drink his blood. Chew his bones and roll in his organs. Dean shuddered.
No, you can't think like that, Dean silently admonished himself.
"Cas," murmured Dean quietly. Not caring for who or what he was, he ran to the angel. Castiel caught him in a warm embrace. Dean lowered his head and nuzzled his nose into Castiel's armpit. It smelled strongly of Castiel there. Of sweat and Dean's deodorant and masculinity and something that could only be described as raw, pure energy. A part of Dean wanted to recoil from the scent, but a larger part drank it in and allowed it to settle his restless heart. Castiel took his chin and carefully, guided Dean's lips to his. Castiel kissed him deeply, without lust. After a few moments, he pulled away and kissed Dean's forehead. Dean kissed Castiel's cheek. He tasted the salt of his tears. After a moment Dean cried too.
"Oh, Dean. My righteous man, my love, what has happened to you?" Castiel spoke softly.
"I'm scared, Cas. What if I'm a bad guy now? You should have let me rot…"
"No. I will fix you Dean. Metatron was right in only one respect. I have not fixed heaven because I am utterly devoted and focused on you. That will never change, my love. I will fix you, and then we can worry about heaven. I believe in you, Dean, you will not become evil and wretched. I know you won't because you're my righteous man, amante." Dean was utterly shocked. Never had anyone loved or believed in him so unconditionally. Nor had he ever used pet terms before. Dean didn't know what an amante was but he was pretty sure it was sweet.
"You know," said Crowley conversationally "An angel and a demon fell in love once. It did not end well. Then again, I have never seen a demon cry."
"All I took from thus is that we will get through this." said Castiel firmly. He manifested his wings and wrapped them around Dean. The feathers were dark, but almost rainbow-like, similar to an oil spill. They were unimaginably warm and soft and comforting. Once again, Dean found his demon side repulsed, but that part that remained him, Castiel's righteous man, enjoyed it.
"Cas?"
"Hm?"
"I love you."
"I love you too, Dean. Whether you be a demon or Lucifer himself, you will never be able to lose my love. Not the angels up so high in heaven/Nor the demons down below the sea/Can ever dissever my soul from the soul/Of my beautiful righteous man, Dean. I love you to heaven and back, amante. We shall get through this together." And not for a second did Dean doubt they would.
Hello, wonderful readers! Inky here! So, not Erich Kripke, so I cannot claim any credit for the characters, only the plot. Season nine spoilers obviously. A little bit of angst and a butt-ton of fluff. The poetry Cas was quoting was my adaptation of Annabel Lee by Edgar Allen Poe, which I by no means own, just the adapted version. Amante is Italian for 'lover'. I hope y'all enjoyed. And an update of Could Love Ever Save A Life is in the works along with a Mormor fic you guys will love are coming soon! Please review! *Leaves Benedict Cumberbatch (clothes optional)*