Title:Seraphs and Phoenix Wings (25/?)
Author: daksgirl
Rating: R
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Genre: Family/ Drama
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Swearing, blasphemy, VIOLENCE, character deaths (OCs), DEATH DEATH EVERYWHERE.
Word Count: 6,326
Summary: This is it. The battle for the world. And the Winchesters are still cracking jokes, but not for long.
A/N: Ok so this was super hard to write D: As such I apologize for the mehness! This is war so there's lots of blood and smacking involved be warned. I also don't want to spoil anything but I will say this: have faith in me, I love happy endings! It'll probably be a few more chapters (liiiittle longer than I thought whups). Hope you enjoy! In other news I signed up for the D/C Big Bang challenge on LJ. WHAT HAVE I DONE? Anyone else doing it/done it before? Coz I have no idea how it works haha.
…
Dean had been expecting Satan to give them a bad guy monologue. Maybe he'd wait just beyond the Vail, sneering and jeering at them about how weak and pathetic they were. Maybe even try to weasel his way into Cas's good graces with a peace offering or something.
But it seemed Lucifer had dropped the coy act. It was winner takes all now, and Lucifer wanted it all. Period. The space beyond the Veil's walls wasn't that large, only a few miles across, and they charged headlong into it, voices bellowing and feet pounding. There was no space for advanced war tactics, and both sides knew it; pinning it all on a who-can-whack-who the quickest and hardest.
The moment they crossed the barrier, the angels shed their vessels; tucking them away somewhere magical that Dean really didn't want to think about. Cas had briefly explained that the Veil allowed them to fight in their true forms, but the magic there dampened their forms; hence why Dean could look at them and still own lovely eyeballs. It stung to look at them too long though, damn but they were bright. The humans were last to enter the Veil (not his choice, but Cas had forced him), and had gotten to witness the initial clash of light on dark, yin against yang and it was…well it was indescribable. Something the human mind hadn't been designed to handle all at once, and Dean took refuge in reflex and instinct. It was just another hunt, he could do this as long as he just thought of it as a hunt.
Raphael was a blinding being of light at the head of them all, a valkyrie of holy rage, inspiring them forward. Dean could see her pristine white wings stretched wide, two glowing eyes set in a humanoid face, but then she was gone; disappearing into the fray.
And Cas well…Dean tried to engrain the image of the angel in his brain forever. Whereas Raphael took to the sky to rally the angels, Cas stayed marching on the ground ahead of the Gods. Dean had always thought that all the angels would have similar white wings; all identical little clones.
They weren't.
Each angel's wings were colorful, beautiful in their variety. But the most beautiful of all, were Cas's. Of course they were, he didn't know why he thought it would be any different. The angel's wings a deep rich black that just begged for Dean to touch them; each feather shimmering with a blue hue, like a raven. The tips of his long flight feathers were charred and singed, the delicate barbs melted and twisted, and with a guilty jolt, Dean realized it was probably from his decent into hell. For him. Cas's eyes glowed with an iridescent blue hue as he turned to rally the troops, "a reflection of the grace within", Balthazar had whispered quietly. Where Raphael was their light of battle, Cas was their beacon of hope as he led them into the Veil itself, their badass General who looked hotter than the sun.
God he had it bad.
Gabriel was pretty awesome too. He sported large speckled brown and white wings, like a barn owl. He marched close to Cas, and the archangel's wings brushing the younger angel's frequently. His usual amber eyes had turned to molten gold, beautiful and terrible to behold, and Dean had shoved his brother none-too gently forward several times as Sam paused to gawk along the way.
As soon as the first wave of monsters hit, Bobby, Sam and Dean formed a triangle, backs pressed together. Between them, they managed to create a windmill effect, cutting down the monsters that broke through the angels and Gods at the front. It had been working pretty well for them actually.
"Lovely day for a battle don't you think?" Balthazar asked cheerfully as he moved by; an orc-like creature in a headlock. His auburn wings were tucked tightly against his back, armor already looking scuffed.
Dean was about to reply when a loud roar ripped across the sky. The hunter watched in horrified awe as-shit they really were dragons- swooped down from the sky, screaming flames into the ranks of good guys below.
"Shit! We'll be barbequed!" Dean shouted over the roars, panicked. Balthazar smiled at him, twisting his arms hard and killing the creature in his grasp.
"Don't get your panties in a twist. We have our own flying tanks."
Sure enough, shapes were pushing off from the ground further up ahead, huge wings beating the air as the creatures screamed up at the dragons in reply. Dean squinted, trying to pick out what the hell they were, and Sam glanced up, following Dean's gaze.
"Griffons!" he shouted in explanation, a demon screeching into explosive shards of black shadow as he plunged his borrowed blade into its chest.
The griffons, only a quarter the size of the reptilian behemoths, attacked the dragons with no fear, raking the scaly hides before them with piercing talons and snapping with their razor sharp beaks. Their feline back legs kicked viciously as they latched on, and the dragons tilted drunkenly in the sky as they attempted to get the creatures off. Other griffons attacked the wings, beaks ripping and tearing at the dragons' leathery wings, forcing them away from the battle towards calmer airs.
Dean breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. Back on the ground things weren't any less weird or less dangerous. A vampire floated by, and Dean had to do a double take. A swarm of tiny…what could only be faeries had latched onto the creature, pulling on his hair and face. Two had hoisted him up by the nose, and the vampire flailed unhappily as the glowing little people pulled him along, giggling in high pitched voices.
This was probably the oddest and most terrifying event of his life. Only he would be fighting for his life and the world, yet see faeries.
Dean shook himself, concentrating on cutting down whatever came at him; slicing and stabbing, keeping his back tight to Sam's. Both arms ached, muscles unused to holding a blade, and he gritted his teeth as a wedingo came barreling at him. It screeched hoarsely as he thrust his blade up; spearing it through the jugular. A hot splash of blood gushed over his fist and he grimaced, yanking his blade free with a squelch. The thing fell to the ground with a satisfying splat.
Dean glanced appreciatively at the angel blade, whilstling lowly. "Dude these things are awesome. They kill everything! I'm totally keeping a hold of this if we survi-"
An arachne had taken the dead wendigo's place, scurrying low and close to the ground, pincers snapping. With a yelp, Dean planted his boot in the middle of its disgusting face. It whined, and he did it again; scowling as his foot sank deeper into it's now twitching body.
Sam's hoarse shout forced him around. Sam's face was spattered with blood, smudged along his forehead and sliding slickly down his cheek. For a moment Dean panicked, irrationally reminded of a time when Sam used to gorge himself on the same demonic fluids.
Then he remembered where they were. Oh right. Fighting, duh.
A weird snot creature was trying to grab his little brother, and Sam was backing away, the angel blade only sinking ineffectively into the pus-like substance that made up its skin.
"Little help here Dean?" Sam's voice was high and desperate, and Dean's instincts kicked in at the tremor of fear in his brother's voice. Kicking the dead arachne away from him, he advanced towards the snot-machine.
"Hey Slimer!" he challenged, and the creature turned slowly towards him, dripping sluggishly. "Yeah I'm talking to you fugly!"
The thing groaned at him, frigging groaned like he was some sort of dessert on legs, shifting its slimy course from Sam towards him. He backed away from it, suddenly very aware that he hadn't really thought beyond getting its attention.
"Uh…Sammy? Little help?"
Sam gave him a bitch face worthy of song.
A pistol blast ricocheted through the air, and the slime monster paused, looking down to study the sudden hole in its chest curiously. The slime around the hole was hardening, stiffening in jagged cracks and the creature groaned again. Before Dean's eyes, it turned into a stiff snot statue, the weight of it then collapsing in on itself with dusty squelch.
"Oh that's not right," Sam muttered, nose wrinkling. Bobby grinned wildly, waving his pistol triumphantly in the air as he jogged over.
"Silver bullets. Kills pretty much anything, includin' blobs. Apparently."
The rest of his gloating was cut off as a hobgoblin lunged at him, forcing the hunter back into the fighting. Dean grinned at his brother, wiping second hand slime from his face.
"Glad to see someone is enjoying themselves."
…..
War was in his element.
This is what it was all about! This was a glorious symphony of death, a titanic clash of the biggest forces in the universe, and he was right in the middle of it.
Good versus evil.
Light versus dark.
Godzilla versus that little nerdy dude that was in the Producers.
He wanted nothing more than to be able to just sit on the sidelines and take in every slice, every bite and drop of blood spilled, but he had a task.
The horsemen couldn't fight. Never been able to actually. It went against some old dusty rules that no-one but Death actually cared about, and only Death really enforced. But what Death enforced, you obeyed. Horsemen that could just do what they wanted? Hello awesome fun time. Unfortunately Death didn't see it that way, instead he droned on about responsibilities and other boring words. The horsemen were ideas at best, they influenced those around them, planted the seeds of suggestions. Or disease in Pestilence's case.
Horsemen couldn't kill people directly, Death excluded because…well that's what he did. Pity.
The horseman ducked as a demon flew low, trailing smoke in its wake and an angel in hot pursuit. The angel caught up, grappling with the dark vapor, the two twisting around each other in a parody of a dance.
Focus. He had a mission, he had to stay on target but…aw hell it was all so exciting. No sign of Lucifer yet, though Eve was in the middle of things as per usual. Yeesh but that was one terrifying mama. Wouldn't want to meet her down a dark alley.
Eve's true form was as monstrous as her many offspring. Harpy like, her skin was sallow and wrinkled, her appearance somewhat like a demonic old hag. Her eyes bled red, her mouth a too-large black hole with jagged shark teeth. She seemed to put them to good use; sinking them into every creature she could get her clawed hands on. She tore a swath through the Gods that challenged her; War was pretty sure he saw Mercury go down in a spray of blood, whilst Bacchus beat at her head ineffectually with an empty wine bottle.
But his mission wasn't Eve, or saving hopeless Gods.
His mission was the awful creature at her side. The creature currently latched onto an Asian God, the portly fellow screaming as the thing ripped and tore through the God's flesh easily. Oh gross, it was eating him.
War squared his shoulders, trying to summon what little power he possessed in this place, ignoring the chaos around him. He and his brothers might not be able to play with the other kids, but by God they could play with their own.
Horsemen couldn't kill people directly. But they could kill supernatural shit that others couldn't. It had never really seemed useful until now.
"Heeere, puppy puppy," he muttered. "Daddy would like to have a word."
…
Sam's arms were aching. Between him, Bobby and Dean, the three had managed to make a low wall of dead monsters to take cover behind. They were still on the edge of the fighting, close to the Veil wall where there were at least lulls between the waves of monsters that came at them. Chaos reigned further within the battlefield, where the stronger fighters and stronger monsters clashed. Fighters like Gabriel and Cas, and Sam hoped they were ok. It was safer along the edges so it's there the humans stayed; as safe as a celestial fight for the Earth could be that is.
They took turns defending their position, taking a quick rest when there was a lull and the monsters withdrew long enough to gather their courage again. Both sides had suffered heavy losses in the first onslaught, and the dead lay where the fell. Seemed logical to use that to their advantage.
The only problem was their makeshift wall stank, and Sam pinched his nose for the millionth time, grimacing. Daring a quick glance over a dead shapeshifter, he felt a pang of sorrow as he noticed the slain body of a forest God a little further away. Thin and elf-like, her green skin glowed faintly still, her brown eyes staring blankly into the night sky. Her chest was a gaping cavity, and from her spilled a substance that looked like quicksilver; shimmering as it trickled to the dirt.
Dean dropped down heavily beside him, shaking his head as he tried to catch his breath. "Can't see Cas or Gabriel. They're probably further in, kicking ass." He shot a quick look over the wall, just as Sam had done only moments ago. "Looks like they're gonna swarm us again in a minute. You ready?"
Sam groaned unhappily, testing his aching arm. "Do I have a choice?"
His brother smiled cheerily at him, the effect ruined by the sheer amount of blood and gore Dean seemed encrusted in. "No. But I figured I'd ask anyways."
A flash of light briefly illuminated the two, and Crowley appeared, flames dying in his palms. Like the angels, the demon had chosen to fight from within his vessel, but even in his vessel his demonic face shone through. His eyes blazed red and snake-like, the demon tripping over his s's as his tongue forked and grew longer. His whole body seemed to emit an opaque black smoke, but it was the very real smoke that caught Sam's attention; an open flame smoldering along the demon's arm.
"Don't thesse basstardssss ever give up?" he growled, smacking the flame into submission sullenly. The demon was disheveled, just as bloody as the rest of them, but also slightly singed in places. "I nearly burnt off my eyebrowsss trying to barbeque a sss…sss-GODDAMN SSSS." The demon did a little jig of rage at his hissing. "Ssss..ssss…a goddamn ugly git alright?"
"Would have been an improvement," Bobby muttered, loading the pistol with the last of his ammo. Dean still had his safely tucked against his chest, unwilling to use it just yet. Who knew what Lucifer was waiting to release.
"Hey Crowley!" Dean ribbed cheerfully, winking at Sam. "Say: silly sally went to the seashore to sullenly collect seashells."
Crowley gestured rudely at him. "How about you bite me?"
"Ssssssure," Sam bit out cheekily, Dean roaring with laughter.
"Children, save the witty one liners for the battle field," Balthazar scolded them, dragging the stiff body of a werewolf to add to their makeshift wall. "Or just save your energy period. They're coming again."
Dean struggled up, wincing as he felt his knees crack. "Balthazar have you seen Cas? I lost track of him."
The angel shrugged, glancing out towards the ongoing fight. His blonde hair was wild and messy; something black and gooey clinging to one side of his head. "My money's on in there somewhere. Kid has a lot of anger issues."
Dean breathed out a growl. "Dammit I should be in there-"
"And die immediately?" Crowley interrupted with a snort. "Take my word, you're doing more good here on the edge."
Sam could feel the ground rumbling beneath him, and he rolled his eyes, getting to his feet. "Here we go!"
But the playful ribbing Crowley and Balthazar had been contributing had died off, the two supernatural creatures staring behind Sam beyond their corpse wall. Balthazar's eyes were huge as his mouth opened to shout, Crowley already starting forward.
It was Dean who saved him, grabbing Sam by the arm hard and dragging him away from the wall. Just as they both stumbled to the side, their carefully constructed monster wall exploded as something barreled into it. Something very big, and very heavy.
"TROLL!" Balthazar screamed at them, rushing forward to distract the huge thing. Bracing his hands low to the ground, he spread his auburn wings, fluttering them towards the troll. A simple creature, it saw the colors and immediately moved towards him, ignoring the scrambling humans. It was huge, thick limbed and solid; one blow and it would kill a human easily.
With a wince, Crowley shook his hands, fire beginning to glow weakly from his palms. He turned to see the Winchesters still standing, gawking at the troll as it lumbered away from them.
"Run you idiotsss!" the demon yelled at them, red eyes wide and fearful as he hurried after Balthazar. "RUN!"
Another troll was beginning its headlong charge towards them, and Sam turned, blindly following Dean as they scrabbled away; straight into the fight. The main body of the battle was just a crush of bodies; a mass of yelling and screaming as monsters and good guys alike died for their cause. Sam caught a glimpse of Odin in the distance, hurling his spear into the stomach of a ghoul.
A goblin slammed into him from the right, and Sam stumbled, slashing at the creature and losing sight of his brother in front of him momentarily. "DEAN!"
Dean appeared only to be ripped away again as a demon screamed by, and Sam lost him in the mass of bodies. The hunter tried to dive through them but was buffeted aside, tumbling backwards to land on his back on the gore slick ground. His lungs were a burning weight in his chest, his legs weak and straining as he tried to get back up.
A familiar roar sounded above his head, and Sam froze, slowly looking up into the thuggish face of a cave troll. The thing stank of rotten meat and mildew; just one meaty fist was bigger than Sam's currently prone body. Sam watched it with wide eyes as it loomed over him, tiny pig eyes glittering in triumph at an easy kill.
Sam Winchester was going to be killed by a troll of all things. Great. He braced himself for the blow; eyes squeezed shut and lying in a congealed pool of monster blood. Sorry Dean. I tried.
He waited for a blow that never came.
Instead, the troll bellowed in agony, flailing its arms around stupidly as it shook the earth with its panicked dancing. Sam dared a peek from one eye, and gasped in surprise, rolling over onto his knees as he stared up.
"Fenrir!"
The giant wolf had slammed into the troll, jaws snapping shut around its thick neck, digging deep into the engorged flesh. He had landed a killing bite, and the troll knew it, even as it struggled feebly to tear the wolf away from its throat, thick fingers tugging at the wolf's sides. There was a spray of purple arterial blood as Fenrir jerked his head back and the troll reeled, but stubbornly refused to go down.
Lunging again, Fenrir snapped at its face, and the troll bellowed, grabbing the wolf in both hands and finally managing to dislodge him. Despite Fenrir's size, the troll was bigger, and it managed to hold him aloft, dangling the wolf above his head like some triumphant caveman. One beefy hand was wrapped around Fenrir's shoulders, the other grabbing both back legs at the thigh. Like a hunter grabs a struggling rabbit, the troll had caught him, and bayed happily. The wolf snarled, writhing in its grip but the troll took no notice, looking down at Sam.
Sam tried to get up, move, stumble, anything but his legs stubbornly refused to cooperate, and he stayed on his knees, blinking dumbly up at the creature. The troll grinned down at him, teeth rotten and brown, blood gushing in crimson torrents down its grimy chest and pot belly.
"Hoo-man see?" it asked, voice deep and guttural, barely understandable."Hoo-man watch."
Fenrir snapped his jaws again, voice laced with hatred as he struggled in its grasp. "Do not speak to him, filth!" The wolf yelped as the troll pulled him tight, stretching the God's body over its head like one stretches a wet towel. Sam's stomach plummeted as the troll continued to watch him, slowly twisting its hands in a wringing motion.
Fenrir continued to growl and snap, though his eyes were resigned and cool. The wolf knew what was to come. "Samuel look away. You need not bear witness to this. Find your brother."
The giant troll grinned wider, twisting the wolf further, and Fenrir's words broke off in a grunt.
"Hoo-man see," it repeated. "Hoo-man watch."
The sharp snap that followed as the troll twisted his hands suddenly, was a sound that would haunt Sam the rest of his life.
The troll guffawed loudly, throwing Fenrir to the side where the wolf landed in the dirt with a meaty thud. He didn't move.
Sam's legs finally responded, and Sam found himself hurtling forward with an enraged scream, blade drawn. But the troll had had the last laugh, and finally succumbed to his wounds, slumping to the ground. Sam lashed out at its thick hide ineffectively, the blade barely piercing its almost rock-like skin. The blade slipped from Sam's fingers as he balled his hands into fists, relentlessly pounding them against the dead flesh in front of him. He knew it was useless, that the thing was dead and he was wasting valuable energy, but his rage didn't allow for anything else.
He hit it again and again, knuckles bleeding and pain radiating up his arms. He hit it until he couldn't see, blinded by blood and tears and pain.
A hand grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him away.
"Sam! SAM!"
Sam peered blearily into his brother's worried face. Dean looked terrified, hands skimming lightly over Sam's face to check for injuries. His voice was a constant murmur, but even his big brother's familiar tone couldn't quell the echoing snapping sound in Sam's ears.
"Sam it's dead. It's dead."
The words didn't mean anything to him. It didn't change the reality that lay lifelessly before him.
The fallen form on the ground beside the stinking troll forced another shuddering breath from him. Sam pulled away from Dean to numbly sink down beside the wolf, reaching out with shaking fingers to touch his head. Fenrir was still breathing, laborious shallow pants, front paws twitching. His back legs lay still, his body arched at an impossible angle.
The troll had snapped his spine.
Fenrir tried to lick the fingers that stroked his face, and Sam shook his head, blood-wet hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks as he struggled to speak. "I'm so…so sorry Fenrir. It's…it's all my...my fault."
Fenrir looked up at him, golden eyes pained and voice strained. "There is…nothing more honorable…than dying…for family."
Sam found he was crying so hard he couldn't breathe, chest heaving as he tried to suck in breaths, fisting his hands into Fenrir's slick fur. Dean knelt down beside him, shaking his head numbly.
"You can't die," his brother managed, swallowing. "You're a God! You just…just need to heal. I'll…I'll get Gabriel…"
Fenrir smiled weakly, his white teeth flecked with red. A slow trickle of blood wound its way down the side of the wolf's nose. The troll had crushed him, wrung the very life from him with one twist. "Everything dies Dean. Even…even Gods."
The wolf shuddered, eyes beginning to become unfocused. The sounds of battle around them intensified, and Sam saw Dean look around worriedly. The fighting wouldn't avoid them forever.
"Go," Fenrir rasped, glancing up at Sam pleadingly. "Run free and fight…fiercely."
He tried to raise his head, but was too weak, and Sam could only shake his head helplessly, tightening his fingers in Fenrir's dense, warm fur.
"Go," the wolf repeated, his usual gravelly voice, faint. "Know…know that it was an honor…to call you both…my brothers."
Dean's hand found Sam's shoulder, fingers digging tightly into his armor as they both gazed down at the Nordic God. Slowly, Dean reached down to touch the wolf, his hand reverent and respectful as Sam sobbed beside him.
"The honor was ours, Fenrir."
Sam watched as the fire in those golden eyes spluttered and finally died; the wolf's great heaving chest falling still as the battle continued around them.
The forest had called Fenrir home.
Dean was pulling at him, voice thick with emotion but firm as he ordered Sam to follow him. Dean knew it wasn't over yet. They couldn't afford to give up now, and there was no time for mourning. Sam stumbled after his brother mutely, heart numb and eyes blank.
He didn't look back. He couldn't.
…..
Castiel spun on his heel, wings arched and perfectly balanced as he whirled and sliced and stabbed. Demons and monsters fell before him, and the angel could almost fool himself into thinking it was a fight they could win. He had to. For the others. For the world.
For Dean.
A vampire lunged at him, claws scrabbling against the slick metal of his armor, and he punched it away emotionlessly, twisting to the left to avoid the smoky trail of a demon as it screeched past. Two witches were beginning a chant against him, the two joining hands and pointing towards him. With a grunt, Castiel pushed down hard with his wings, the force of the air blowing the two crones off their feet and into the path of a rugaru. Furious its hunt had been interrupted, the rugaru fell upon the screaming witches mercilessly, unknowingly helping Castiel greatly.
The angel turned away, closing his eyes briefly to sense that Gabriel was nearby, engaged in his own battles. Raphael practically lit up the entire battlefield with her wrath above, and Dean…
Dean was still there. Castiel could feel the human, a warm spark along the edges of his consciousness, and the angel breathed sigh of relief, opening his eyes again. It was safer for Dean to stay as far away from Castiel as possible on the battlefield, just in case Lucifer decided to-
A dark presence suddenly choked his senses and made his movements falter. A vampire rose up in front of him, grinning triumphantly as it shoved him hard. Off-balance, Castiel reeled, stumbling backwards. Monsters moved out of his way, backing away from the angel with excited whispers. Castiel found himself surrounded by them, a wide empty circle around him. The dark presence grew stronger, and Castiel slowly turned around, already knowing what he would find.
The creature before him was not an angel.
Lucifer was barely recognizable. Any trace of his previous glory and grace had been consumed by the hatred he carried inside him, scouring away the traces of light that had once resided within. Where he had one possessed wings of unparalleled beauty, they were now but ashes. Two skeletal limbs rose behind him, waxy and decayed flesh stretched tight between the delicate carpal bones. The flesh was blackened; sickly sweet in smell and Lucifer stretched his wings wide, grinning.
"Like what you see Castiel?"
The devil's true face was the most terrifying. It was more reptile than humanoid now, flat slits for a nose and a forked tongue hissed from between razor-like teeth. Only lightless vacuums existed in his eyes; blackened pits that swirled with dark shadows. His body was a canvass of abuse and decay; his fingers and toes were wizened talons, hooked and serrated attached to wasted limbs.
Castiel could only watch in muted horror as the abomination approached him, the battlefield bleeding away until there was only this; him and the devil. Him and evil.
"What's the matter honey?" The shadows in that awful face danced. "Don't you think I'm pretty?"
Castiel dimly realized he was backing away, trying to distance himself, but his path was blocked; the monsters around them had formed an impermeable circle. Drawing on everything that made him fight for good, which made him an angel, Castiel took a deep breath, gathering his strength. He spread his wings aggressively, fingers gripping his blade tightly as moved his feet into a better fighting position.
"Lucifer. You have fallen into a place so dark and foul you can never be saved," he growled, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he currently felt.
Lucifer laughed at that, the circle of monsters around the two rippling as they mirrored their leader. "So dramatic. So brave. I like that about you, Castiel."
The devil paused, forked tongue flickering between his blackened lips. "Can't say I approve of your attire though little one."
Castiel didn't relax his stance, holding his blade higher. "And I do not care what you think, abomination."
Lucifer moved so quickly that Castiel didn't even see it coming; the devil slamming into him with the power of a freight train. Castiel went flying; wings cushioning his fall as he hit the dirt on his back, air forced from his lungs. Lucifer looked coldly down at him, black flames beginning to spark within the shadows.
"Respect your elders, Castiel. You fight within your vessel. It makes you weak. And that…ridiculous armor. Whatever were you thinking?"
His tone was light, but Castiel could see the fury in the way the shadows writhed in his face, the yawning chasms of corruption that bled through his skin in angry torrents. With a flap of his wings, Castiel was back on his feet and staring into the soul of hell itself. He felt that he should be afraid; quaking as he stared into the darkness, but his grace was quiet. Absolute.
"I wear Michael's armor," he murmured. "Because like him, I will cast you down, Lucifer. You will never use my grace to form your new heaven. You will never harm another creature as long as I live. I do not care how long it takes me, but I will destroy you."
This time he knew the blow was coming, did not attempt to dodge it. Lucifer was far more powerful and fast than he, and Castiel rolled his neck with the punch, absorbing some of the force. The second was more painful, Lucifer slashing across his face with serrated talons, and Castiel dropped his blade in shock.
He could feel them in his skin, slicing him open, digging their decayed and corrupted shadows into his very being. It was a white hot pain that burned as cold as ice, and Castiel tried to pull away, wings straining. Lucifer latched onto him, tugging him forward and digging those stained claws into the base of his wings. Castiel screamed at the pain, thrashing futilely as his wings jerked in agony. Things were latching onto him, tendrils of rancorous putrescence that burrowed into his skin, seeking out his brightness, his life, his grace.
Images filled his vision, awful things, things of hell, and things of Lucifer. Forbidden knowledge that the devil had sought out from the confines of his cold prison. Lucifer had gazed into the abyss, and it had not returned his gaze; it became him instead.
"You're a toddler playing in your mother's clothes," the devil hissed, too close, too dark. "Careful you don't fall over in such oversized shoes."
"LUCIFER!"
It was the voice of a wrathful archangel, and Lucifer chuckled, stepping away from Castiel. The angel slumped to the ground in a boneless heap.
"I wonder who that could be?" Lucifer mused, tapping one bloody claw to his face. He glanced down at Castiel, who gasped and retched on the dirt, body shaking. "Oh right. Gabriel. Your over-protective father figure right?"
Even in his vessel, Gabriel was an amazing sight. The archangel was a storm of holy fire; his wrath bleeding from his eyes in golden waves as he attempted to breach the circle around the two, wings beating the air furiously. Lucifer waved over at him, decayed wings twitching.
"Sorry Gabriel! This is an invite only party. But I'm sure my associate can entertain you for a while." The devil glanced away over the crowd, and Castiel shakily managed to get into a crouch, reaching for the blade he had dropped.
There was a dark cackle, and Eve pushed through her children, latching onto Gabriel's legs and tugging him back to earth, the Mother impossibly strong in her true form. Gabriel turned on her, shouting Enochian in his anger and the Mother only laughed harder, taking his blows like she felt nothing.
Noticing Castiel reaching for his blade, Lucifer shook his head with a tsk, kicking it away nonchalantly. The backhand to Castiel's face was powerful enough that had he been mortal, he would have died instantly. Instead he saw stars, head snapping back hard. Blood roared in his ears as Castiel blinked, trying to clear his vision, and he could dimly hear Gabriel's screams of outrage.
Lucifer loomed above him, slamming one taloned foot down into his breastplate forcing the seraph to the ground, pinning him in place.
"Tell me, son. What's it like? Fucking a human I mean." The shadows boiled. "Are they as squishy and weak on the inside as they are on the out?"
Castiel struggled, kicking his legs out defiantly. A strong pain resonated in his chest, and he gritted his teeth, glaring up at the creature that had once been his brother. "You will not harm the Winchesters."
"Of course not!" Lucifer sing-songed, pressing down harder and forcing the air from Castiel's lungs in a pained gasp. "I'm going to butcher them. Slaughter them like the pigs they are, to demonstrate the price of disobedience to you. Especially your little boyfriend."
The edges of his vision were beginning to darken, and Castiel thrashed, hands scrabbling against the foot holding him. The skin beneath his fingers felt rotten, throbbing with foulness and it tugged at him in return, yearning to pull him into its putrid embrace. It would consume him, burrow into his grace and destroy him until he was an echo of the dark creature bearing down on him.
"But before I do that, I think you need a lesson in manners my little fledgling," Lucifer continued, and Castiel could feel himself beginning to slip away, falling into a darkness that had no end. "Have to respect your elder's don't you kn-"
The weight on his chest disappeared, as did the blackness, and Castiel rolled to his side, gasping in deep breaths appreciatively. With shaking hands, he lunged for his discarded blade, expecting the devil to return; forcing himself onto his protesting knees. His chest was burning, a hot pain deep inside, and he clutched futilely at his chest plate, struggling to breathe. Lucifer had landed in an undignified heap several yards away, and he pulled himself into a coiled crouch, wings spread and hissing furiously.
There was an angel standing between Lucifer and Castiel.
The devil slowly drew to his full height, voice low and angry. "You dare? Who do you think you are, you filthy an-"
"You touch my seraph again, and I will kill you Lucifer."
Lucifer froze as the stranger's voice cracked across the suddenly silent clearing. The monsters all stared in barely concealed awe at the angel that dared challenge the devil in such a way. Who had the power to match him, could catch him unawares.
Castiel knew of only one angel who could.
….