Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing and characters: Implied Dean/Sam (if you squint...), Castiel
Rating: PG?
Warnings: Spoilers to season 4.
Summary: "For Dean it was almost like a déjà vu."
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural (sadly) otherwise this show would go in oh so many different ways...
Author's notes: My first fic from the fandom. Started watching the show one Thursday. Finished all seasons in less than a week.
Story suits more into the category of AU General but I believe fans of Wincest will find something in there for themselves if they squint hard enough ;) Also, Castiel. Because you can not love that bastard.
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For Dean it was almost like a déjà vu.
He could vaguely register the chaos of the battlefield around him. Every day, he tried tell him and before he even had time to actually proceed that thought he was already moving, running like a mad man and dropping to his knees in almost mid-slide, catching the powerless body before it fell ungracefully on the blood stained ground.
Fucking déjà vu.
"No, no, nonononono..."
The too familiar eyes looked at him with a mixture of pain and confusion asking him silent questions he could not answer.
He's already been there, gone through that once and there was no possible way for him to live through the same thing happening all over again. He held the shivering body tight to him, feeling the warm blood seeping through the denim of his jeans, and then his brother grasped the front of his shirt with weak fingers and Dean's mind went blank. There was no sound around them only the pounding of his own blood in his ears, synchronizing with blood gushing out of Sam's chest. There were no more sounds of the battle between angels and demons; no more shouts and screams of the fallen. The world went quiet and still, almost like a soft white noise filling the space around them. Dean knew the battle was ending. That the good guys were winning and that another seal was no more available to Lilith's plan. He knew all of that, but somehow couldn't comprehend why they were actually there, in the middle of this divine carnage. He knew they had to have their reasons; they always did, but as Sam tried to say something to him, only blood left his mouth and Dean didn't really care if the Apocalypse would come now or never.
The sounds of battle were fading, almost in proportion to Sam's body growing weaker. When he didn't have any more strength to hold his arms up they drop next to him like two dead weights. Dean was aware that he was muttering something, but he didn't really know what he was saying, not until Sam's eyes glazed, his breath stilled, and only when a shadow loomed over them did Dean realize he was sobbing a prayer into Sam's bloodied hair.
...............
For Castiel it's almost like a blasphemy.
He was tired, broken, and his Grace was the only thing that kept him standing. His bones ached, his flesh protested with searing white pain while he was still inside his human host, not able to fight in his true form with so many humans around. His wings burned with the need to use them and he was close to giving in before his gaze fell on the two brothers.
Dean was holding his brother's body close rocking back and forth in what would be a comforting gesture in any other circumstances. Only after few seconds did Castiel realize that the prayer he had been hearing for a while now came from the despaired man kneeling in the blood-stained dirt.
Castiel looked at them, really looked and the only thing he could see was almost blasphemy; a perfect image of pieta carved into his mind.
He knew it was not his responsibility. Knew that the younger Winchester's future was clouded and unreadable even to his Father, and knew that the boy dying there on this battlefield would be a small cost compared to hell on earth he could raise later.
He knew all of this and still flinched in what he understood was sympathy when Dean raised his hand and looked at the angel standing over him and his dead brother. There were so many emotions in those green eyes that Castiel didn't even try to figure them all out.
"Please."
The broken whisper was quiet enough to drown out the sounds of a dying battle, but Castiel still caught it. He didn't say anything for a long while, looking into Dean's pained stare until the human at his feet couldn't hold his gaze anymore because despite his beaten state Castiel's form still blazed with glory, with sacred fire - a glimpse of his true self from behind his host's eyes. Dean turned his head away, one hand leaving Sam's immobile body and grasping at Castiel's torn coat sleeve.
"Please Castiel, help him. I beg of you."
Dean Winchester did not beg.
"Are you willing to pay the price?"
Dean flinched and Castiel knew that if he was still looking at the young man's face he would see there a look of panic, just a second of a flashback from the hell's pit enough to make his grip on angel's coat tighten, but he didn't let go.
"Yes. Whatever it takes."
"If I save him now," Castiel knew that despite Dean not looking at him he listened closely to every word. "And if Azazel's blood takes over him, every death he will deal, every wound he will inflict, and every soul he will destroy will be your responsibility. Everything will fall on your shoulders and the blood of the innocent will be on your hands. Are you willing to take this burden upon yourself?"
"Yes." Dean gasps out, almost surprised at how easy it left his mouth.
The bloodstained hand on his wrist shivered and Castel had made up his mind.
Castiel knelt next to the fallen man, his own torn body protesting at the movement.
There was no sign of the world changing around them when he pressed his hand to the gaping wound at Sam's chest. No divine light or angelic choir. The only sign of something happening that Dean could notice were streaks of gray hair appearing at Castiel's temples. Then he forgot about anything else, because Sam, his Sammy, was gasping and fighting for air like he was born again.
When Dean raised his gaze after a few seconds Castiel was long gone.