Dean glowered in sadistic satisfaction, pursing his lips in anger as he cupped his palm to the demon's face. Azazel screeched in shock. "Leave Castiel now, you son of a bitch," Dean spat, his eyes beginning to simmer a scorching white. "I've got plenty more where that came from."
Dean struggled to keep a straight face, to keep himself distant, as Castiel's body cringed against the chair, those sickening yellow eyes pulsing. For a brief moment, Dean saw blue, as Castiel's soul, was left exposed, ravaged and raw, dead but not quite. It was quickly engulfed by the desperate demon, clinging onto the broken shard of Castiel that he could. Where there had been broken beauty, as damaged as it was, Dean could only see something more malicious and abominable. The disfigured face of the ugly demon, smiled back at him, manipulating Castiel's features like a second skin. Dean's skin crawled. "You know he's dead, Dean." The demon rasped, curling up Castiel's lips into a plastic smile, laden with evil intent. "He's meat for the angels once I'm finished with him."
Dean slashed his hand, until it was gushing blood. It dribbled down his shirt plinking onto the floor. Azazel clenched his bound wrists, writhing in the chair, as Dean planted his hand onto his skull, pressing his fingers down, until Azaezal choked on the hot, burning blood, as it swam into his nostrils. Blisters erupted on his face, marring his features into a pathetic squeal of pain. He breathed hard and heavy.
"I hope you have enough time to bleed yourself dry, to heal the mess I've made with him. You'll be mopping up his blood all over this floor; after everything I've done to him. I'm the only thing keeping him alive." Azaezal continued, persisting in babbling. The words dulled, beginning to loose their sharp edge, the words became harder for Azazel to formulate as his body racked with coughs; spewing out the angel's blood.
Castiel's soul shimmered brightly, Azazel blinked in frustation, barring the hunter's soul down into the blackest pit of his soul. Dean grinned down at the demon, his emerald eyes burning in satisfaction. "My blood will heal him, what will it do to you?" He barked, ripping off his shirt. Azaezal's eyes bugged out of his sockets.
Castiel's soul spiked. Dean could feel the worry, the sick fear, as Castiel tried to snap back into his slippery body. The yellow withered away, leaving the watery blue of the river, so ancient in those young eyes.
"Dean."
Dean felt rather than heard those words, a soft whisper, racked with so much pain, so much desperation, with all that Castiel had as his soul leached away from the surface. It was a call that sounded in him, the call cut him even deeper than once upon a time in hell, as he gripped him tight, redeeming him from the dark.
"Damn you Cas, don't stop fighting."
Dean split his wrists, pressing the cloth to the wound allowing it to soak up the blood. Azaezal watched him, his marred features contorting, trying to shimmy his chair away. Dean pinned it to the ground, his hard green eyes unforgiving, his voice low, and laced with the promise of no mercy. "Go to hell."
Azaezal spluttered, as the cloth was pressed to his face with no hesitation, he held it over his mouth, his knuckles going white. He shut off Castiel's screams, focusing on that ugly ass demon's face, scrunched up in pain. The cries shut off; the demon's eyes rolling into the back of his head. His mouth slacked open, the yellow smoke bursting out of him like a sick pus. Dean looked down, raising a hand to Castiel's chest as it slumped forward.
His angelic chest broke as he looked at the wrecked canvas of Castiel's soul, dried blood seeping through the swollen cracks in Castiel's face. New blood seeped through his shirt. Castiel reached out a tentative hand, his voice breaking in horror, in relief.
"Dean." He whispered, his eyes going heavy.
Dean looked down, closing his eyes as he reached his shaking hand to hold Castiel's cheek, his hands holding him tenderly. He couldn't look at Castiel's face. That was the look of hell. "You're safe Cas, I promise." Dean said, his voice cracking. His spine tingled, his wings ruffling in the darkened cell. He pauses, as he knelt on the ground beside Castiel, as he unbound him. His self control weakens, and he looks up to stare at Castiel's face, savouring his soul, his robustness, his fight. The righteous man, was beautiful and he was yet to realise it.
"I'm sorry, Cas."
Castiel grinned wearily, placing a hand onto Dean's shoulder. Dean shivered, drawing in his wings, sensitive to the hunter's touch; his insides twisting with a feeling so new, so raw. It was such profound moment, he looked up at Castiel, frowning at him in contemplation, as he felt something beyond words for him. He traced a tug in his heart, a string tying him to this mortal hunter; more than feeling he owed him, more than failure, a love for this hunter, the righteous man. He wondered if Castiel could feel that, that fragile string, that profound bond that tied them together.
"You're an idiot, Dean. Get me some freaking beer and we'll call it even."
"I'll add a cheeseburger from your favourite joint to seal the deal."