Supernatural fic - "Saving Grace" (Part Five)
See the masterpost for disclaimer, summary, and previous parts.
Only a few weeks left until the LA convention in February… starting to feel the anticipation/panic! That is all… on to the story!
***************
It took Dean only a few hours to make his decision.
Since Castiel had been too weak to flap or teleport or whatever back into battle, Dean had an angel in tow for the day. Or at least for part of it. Dean hoped to keep Castiel earth-bound as long as humanly possible, because the angel did not look fit to fight anything stronger than a toddler. Dean took Castiel to breakfast, to a park, for a drive… basically, the most restful, stress-free things he could think of to give Cas time to recharge his batteries. Dean knew damn well that the best weapon any of them had was Cas at full strength.
Which was why he made his decision so quickly.
They were leaning side by side against the hood of the Impala, Dean with a beer in hand. Dean had pulled off on to the shoulder on a back road outside town to have a quiet drink with the angel (even if Cas had declined the beer Dean tried to give him). Dean had gotten a couple of text messages from Sam, each one more pissy than the last, but Dean ignored them. Let Sam know what it was like to have a rogue brother for a while. Not that Sam would feel about it one way or another.
Dean stole a glance at Cas beside him. The angel looked much better than he had last night. He still didn’t look like himself, and it wasn’t just the strangeness of seeing him in dirty, stained clothes. He still looked too thin, too pale, too troubled, but he looked almost strong enough to up and fly. Dean could almost swear he saw Castiel flexing his shoulders a couple of times, as if trying out the fitness of his wings.
He figured he wouldn’t have the angel around much longer.
“So…” Dean began casually, drawing Castiel’s attention away from gazing up at the sky. “How would you go about giving me a piece of your grace?”
Castiel’s eyebrow rose. “Hypothetically?”
Dean just took a drink and waited.
Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see any reason to discuss the logistics… I will not ask you to do that.” He started to turn his gaze upward again, pleased by the sight of the sky… or maybe he was giving getting there a college try.
“And I told you already that you aren’t asking… I’m offering to hold on to it for you.”
Castiel’s eyes came down so fast and hard on Dean that Dean almost swallowed nervously. Castiel had one hell of a piercing mother of a look when he had a mind to use it.
The intensity of Castiel’s gaze lifted and he looked perplexed. “I still find it difficult to grasp the concept of humor…”
“Damnit, Cas, I’m not screwing around with you. You need a place to stash your grace, I’m giving you one.”
Castiel pushed away from the car and moved a few steps away. Dean watched the tense lines of Castiel’s shoulders and back as he stopped and turned slowly to face Dean. He looked almost beleaguered. “You don’t want this, Dean. I know better than anyone how fiercely you fought having Michael inhabit you… though it might differ in amount, this is the same concept. An angel, or part of one, in you.”
Dean set his beer down on the hood a little harder than he meant to, getting Castiel’s attention with the sharp clang of glass on metal. Dean shoved off the car and strode toward Castiel, stopping within that precious personal space that Cas didn’t get. “That was different… Michael was a douche and a stranger and he would have hollowed me out like a watermelon. You said an angel lives as long as a piece of his grace does, right? Well, I’m pretty damn worried that you’re going to get yourself killed up there in this angel war. If I can give you an insurance policy, a way to not die, hell yeah I’m going to do it.”
Cas looked dubious.
Thinking of something that might convince Cas of his sincerity, Dean rolled up the left sleeve of his shirt, bearing the handprint scar Castiel had left on Dean when he pulled him out of Hell. Castiel’s eyes dropped to it immediately and held there.
“Can you honestly look at this, at what you did, and think I don’t want to do this for you?”
Castiel’s right hand flexed, as if remembering putting that mark there or resisting the temptation to fit his digits over the scar tissue. He looked up somberly into Dean’s eyes. “You don’t owe me anything, Dean.”
He let go of his sleeve and squared his shoulders as he faced Castiel. “Okay, first off, I literally owe you damn near everything, but second… I want to help you. You’re my friend, Cas. I don’t want you to die for the selfish reason that I don’t want to lose you.”
That seemed to finally penetrate Castiel’s resistance. He met Dean’s eyes, searching.
“If you are absolutely certain…” Castiel hedged.
“Absolutely.”
“Grace has never been harbored within a human… while I’m confident your body could tolerate the part of mine I would leave in you, I couldn’t tell you what effects it might have on you.”
“So we fly by the seat of our pants, business as usual.” Dean put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “You’ve saved my life so many times that I’ve lost count… let me return the favor.”
Life flashed in Castiel’s eyes… like he was waking up from a long, tiring dream. Dean knew in that moment he’d won.
“So… how is this going to work?” Dean asked.
“I would need a moment to carve away a piece of my grace,” Cas began thoughtfully. “Then I would have to kiss you.”
“Okay… wait, what?”
Castiel’s expression turned bemused. “The easiest way to pass my grace to you would be through the mouth… the other option would be for me to shove it up your chest.”
A vivid mental image of Castiel’s arm buried practically elbow-deep in Sam’s chest came to mind. “Uh… I’m hoping to go through my whole life not getting the angel cavity search treatment.” Dean shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Kiss you, huh? That doesn’t sound too bad. I mean, Anna’s grace went back in her through her mouth, so… yeah, I’ll go with that.”
With a grave nod, Castiel began to breathe differently, like meditation or bracing himself for an ordeal. Dean felt stupid standing there watching. Castiel spared a second to say, “It will take me a moment to tear out a piece of my grace… you have that long to change your mind.”
“Not going to happen,” Dean promised, even though he didn’t like how painful for Castiel this was starting to sound. Tear out??
Cas stood in the middle of the deserted road, eyes closed and breathing long and deep. Dean, not sure what he should do, started to move away when Castiel’s hand blindly snaked out and grabbed him by the wrist. Dean froze and stood watching.
After what seemed ages, Cas slowly lifted his head. He kept his eyes closed, but his lips barely parted. Dean could see light inside, glowing from the depths of Castiel’s throat.
Castiel’s fingers tightened on Dean’s wrist in silent communication.
“Here goes,” he muttered to himself. Then he stepped forward and captured Castiel’s mouth with his own.
Castiel’s other hand came to curl around the back of Dean’s neck, and his mouth opened against Dean’s. Warmth touched Dean’s lips, a tingling happy warmth, and Dean opened his mouth to receive it.
A bolt of heat rolled down his throat and exploded in his chest. Dean gasped and staggered back. He felt it swelling inside him, too much and too strong. He felt like he was about to burst open. Dean wanted to ask just how much of his grace Cas just stuffed down him.
But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a laugh. A joyful, surprised laugh. Dean went down on one knee on the asphalt, his head swimming with the light in his chest. Second by second, Dean began to pick apart the sledgehammer of strong feelings that had lodged behind his sternum. It was awe. Happiness. Peace. It was every summer day of his childhood. Every ice cream cone he’d ever tasted. Every woman he’d ever touched. It was puppies and the Impala and every proud smile his father sent his way. It was little Sammy curled up in his lap. It was existence with no boundaries, no limits, no end. It was Castiel and it was Dean, every shred of happiness either of them had ever known, woven tight around itself, knitted into a ball of alacrity and Heaven’s light.
“Dean?”
Dean didn’t remember falling flat on the ground, but he found himself looking up into Castiel’s worried face.
Dean beamed unwittingly. “Damn, dude, is this what it’s like to be you?”
Castiel’s frown melted into a tired but kind smile. “You only have a fragment of my grace in you,” Castiel explained gently, “and I don’t know how it might be interacting with your soul.”
“God damn, they’re having a fucking orgy in there!”
“I see.” Castiel blinked. “I’m not sure I’ll want my grace back after it’s been living in you.”
Dean laughed. “Cas, man… if you could feel this, you would want in on it.”
With Castiel’s help, Dean climbed to his feet. He still felt giddy, heady with everything bursting in his chest, but it was calming down already. While the sheer ecstasy of Dean’s soul touching Castiel’s grace was fading away, there remained a feeling inside him that Dean hadn’t thought he’d ever feel. He felt whole. Ever since Hell there’d been a gaping hole inside him… he’d stopped even feeling it, it was there so long. But now it was filled, brimful with Castiel’s grace.
“Are you crying?” Castiel asked in concern. “Is it hurting you?”
Dean wiped in embarrassment at his eyes. “No… you’re not hurting me. I just forgot what it felt like to not hurt anymore, s’all.”
The answer seemed to puzzle Castiel, but the sentiment seemed grateful, so Castiel offered a half-smile.
“So you’ll be okay now, right?” Dean asked, hating how he sounded like a little kid when he asked.
“I will continue to fight, but now… now I can do that without… one hand tied behind my back. Was that the correct phrase?”
Dean chuckled. “Yeah, it was.”
Cas tilted his head back to look up at the sky. He frowned. “I have to go.”
“Kick ‘em in the ass, Cas.”
Castiel smirked. “I will. Thank you, Dean.”
And with that, Dean was standing alone on a back road with a chunk of angel grace in his chest.
Part Six
Only a few weeks left until the LA convention in February… starting to feel the anticipation/panic! That is all… on to the story!
***************
It took Dean only a few hours to make his decision.
Since Castiel had been too weak to flap or teleport or whatever back into battle, Dean had an angel in tow for the day. Or at least for part of it. Dean hoped to keep Castiel earth-bound as long as humanly possible, because the angel did not look fit to fight anything stronger than a toddler. Dean took Castiel to breakfast, to a park, for a drive… basically, the most restful, stress-free things he could think of to give Cas time to recharge his batteries. Dean knew damn well that the best weapon any of them had was Cas at full strength.
Which was why he made his decision so quickly.
They were leaning side by side against the hood of the Impala, Dean with a beer in hand. Dean had pulled off on to the shoulder on a back road outside town to have a quiet drink with the angel (even if Cas had declined the beer Dean tried to give him). Dean had gotten a couple of text messages from Sam, each one more pissy than the last, but Dean ignored them. Let Sam know what it was like to have a rogue brother for a while. Not that Sam would feel about it one way or another.
Dean stole a glance at Cas beside him. The angel looked much better than he had last night. He still didn’t look like himself, and it wasn’t just the strangeness of seeing him in dirty, stained clothes. He still looked too thin, too pale, too troubled, but he looked almost strong enough to up and fly. Dean could almost swear he saw Castiel flexing his shoulders a couple of times, as if trying out the fitness of his wings.
He figured he wouldn’t have the angel around much longer.
“So…” Dean began casually, drawing Castiel’s attention away from gazing up at the sky. “How would you go about giving me a piece of your grace?”
Castiel’s eyebrow rose. “Hypothetically?”
Dean just took a drink and waited.
Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see any reason to discuss the logistics… I will not ask you to do that.” He started to turn his gaze upward again, pleased by the sight of the sky… or maybe he was giving getting there a college try.
“And I told you already that you aren’t asking… I’m offering to hold on to it for you.”
Castiel’s eyes came down so fast and hard on Dean that Dean almost swallowed nervously. Castiel had one hell of a piercing mother of a look when he had a mind to use it.
The intensity of Castiel’s gaze lifted and he looked perplexed. “I still find it difficult to grasp the concept of humor…”
“Damnit, Cas, I’m not screwing around with you. You need a place to stash your grace, I’m giving you one.”
Castiel pushed away from the car and moved a few steps away. Dean watched the tense lines of Castiel’s shoulders and back as he stopped and turned slowly to face Dean. He looked almost beleaguered. “You don’t want this, Dean. I know better than anyone how fiercely you fought having Michael inhabit you… though it might differ in amount, this is the same concept. An angel, or part of one, in you.”
Dean set his beer down on the hood a little harder than he meant to, getting Castiel’s attention with the sharp clang of glass on metal. Dean shoved off the car and strode toward Castiel, stopping within that precious personal space that Cas didn’t get. “That was different… Michael was a douche and a stranger and he would have hollowed me out like a watermelon. You said an angel lives as long as a piece of his grace does, right? Well, I’m pretty damn worried that you’re going to get yourself killed up there in this angel war. If I can give you an insurance policy, a way to not die, hell yeah I’m going to do it.”
Cas looked dubious.
Thinking of something that might convince Cas of his sincerity, Dean rolled up the left sleeve of his shirt, bearing the handprint scar Castiel had left on Dean when he pulled him out of Hell. Castiel’s eyes dropped to it immediately and held there.
“Can you honestly look at this, at what you did, and think I don’t want to do this for you?”
Castiel’s right hand flexed, as if remembering putting that mark there or resisting the temptation to fit his digits over the scar tissue. He looked up somberly into Dean’s eyes. “You don’t owe me anything, Dean.”
He let go of his sleeve and squared his shoulders as he faced Castiel. “Okay, first off, I literally owe you damn near everything, but second… I want to help you. You’re my friend, Cas. I don’t want you to die for the selfish reason that I don’t want to lose you.”
That seemed to finally penetrate Castiel’s resistance. He met Dean’s eyes, searching.
“If you are absolutely certain…” Castiel hedged.
“Absolutely.”
“Grace has never been harbored within a human… while I’m confident your body could tolerate the part of mine I would leave in you, I couldn’t tell you what effects it might have on you.”
“So we fly by the seat of our pants, business as usual.” Dean put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “You’ve saved my life so many times that I’ve lost count… let me return the favor.”
Life flashed in Castiel’s eyes… like he was waking up from a long, tiring dream. Dean knew in that moment he’d won.
“So… how is this going to work?” Dean asked.
“I would need a moment to carve away a piece of my grace,” Cas began thoughtfully. “Then I would have to kiss you.”
“Okay… wait, what?”
Castiel’s expression turned bemused. “The easiest way to pass my grace to you would be through the mouth… the other option would be for me to shove it up your chest.”
A vivid mental image of Castiel’s arm buried practically elbow-deep in Sam’s chest came to mind. “Uh… I’m hoping to go through my whole life not getting the angel cavity search treatment.” Dean shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Kiss you, huh? That doesn’t sound too bad. I mean, Anna’s grace went back in her through her mouth, so… yeah, I’ll go with that.”
With a grave nod, Castiel began to breathe differently, like meditation or bracing himself for an ordeal. Dean felt stupid standing there watching. Castiel spared a second to say, “It will take me a moment to tear out a piece of my grace… you have that long to change your mind.”
“Not going to happen,” Dean promised, even though he didn’t like how painful for Castiel this was starting to sound. Tear out??
Cas stood in the middle of the deserted road, eyes closed and breathing long and deep. Dean, not sure what he should do, started to move away when Castiel’s hand blindly snaked out and grabbed him by the wrist. Dean froze and stood watching.
After what seemed ages, Cas slowly lifted his head. He kept his eyes closed, but his lips barely parted. Dean could see light inside, glowing from the depths of Castiel’s throat.
Castiel’s fingers tightened on Dean’s wrist in silent communication.
“Here goes,” he muttered to himself. Then he stepped forward and captured Castiel’s mouth with his own.
Castiel’s other hand came to curl around the back of Dean’s neck, and his mouth opened against Dean’s. Warmth touched Dean’s lips, a tingling happy warmth, and Dean opened his mouth to receive it.
A bolt of heat rolled down his throat and exploded in his chest. Dean gasped and staggered back. He felt it swelling inside him, too much and too strong. He felt like he was about to burst open. Dean wanted to ask just how much of his grace Cas just stuffed down him.
But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a laugh. A joyful, surprised laugh. Dean went down on one knee on the asphalt, his head swimming with the light in his chest. Second by second, Dean began to pick apart the sledgehammer of strong feelings that had lodged behind his sternum. It was awe. Happiness. Peace. It was every summer day of his childhood. Every ice cream cone he’d ever tasted. Every woman he’d ever touched. It was puppies and the Impala and every proud smile his father sent his way. It was little Sammy curled up in his lap. It was existence with no boundaries, no limits, no end. It was Castiel and it was Dean, every shred of happiness either of them had ever known, woven tight around itself, knitted into a ball of alacrity and Heaven’s light.
“Dean?”
Dean didn’t remember falling flat on the ground, but he found himself looking up into Castiel’s worried face.
Dean beamed unwittingly. “Damn, dude, is this what it’s like to be you?”
Castiel’s frown melted into a tired but kind smile. “You only have a fragment of my grace in you,” Castiel explained gently, “and I don’t know how it might be interacting with your soul.”
“God damn, they’re having a fucking orgy in there!”
“I see.” Castiel blinked. “I’m not sure I’ll want my grace back after it’s been living in you.”
Dean laughed. “Cas, man… if you could feel this, you would want in on it.”
With Castiel’s help, Dean climbed to his feet. He still felt giddy, heady with everything bursting in his chest, but it was calming down already. While the sheer ecstasy of Dean’s soul touching Castiel’s grace was fading away, there remained a feeling inside him that Dean hadn’t thought he’d ever feel. He felt whole. Ever since Hell there’d been a gaping hole inside him… he’d stopped even feeling it, it was there so long. But now it was filled, brimful with Castiel’s grace.
“Are you crying?” Castiel asked in concern. “Is it hurting you?”
Dean wiped in embarrassment at his eyes. “No… you’re not hurting me. I just forgot what it felt like to not hurt anymore, s’all.”
The answer seemed to puzzle Castiel, but the sentiment seemed grateful, so Castiel offered a half-smile.
“So you’ll be okay now, right?” Dean asked, hating how he sounded like a little kid when he asked.
“I will continue to fight, but now… now I can do that without… one hand tied behind my back. Was that the correct phrase?”
Dean chuckled. “Yeah, it was.”
Cas tilted his head back to look up at the sky. He frowned. “I have to go.”
“Kick ‘em in the ass, Cas.”
Castiel smirked. “I will. Thank you, Dean.”
And with that, Dean was standing alone on a back road with a chunk of angel grace in his chest.
Part Six