And It Is Written
Title: And It Is Written
Author: paracaerouvoar
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: None
Summary: "And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man spills blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break."
Light flooded into the musty old church, illuminating the pews, throwing ugly shadows over the room. Dean Winchester watched Lucifer's cage open with a growing dread. This was all his fault. Everything. He had broken the first seal. The minute he had picked up that knife, he had signed away the human race to the devil. Alistair's words rang in his ears, echoing in the silence of the church, making the situation seem even graver. Both brothers were bathed in an incandescent glow, frozen to the spot. Dean turned to leave, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to face his brother, seeing the naked terror on his face. It instilled a sense of purely instinctual rage. Sam was his baby brother, he shouldn't have to live in a godawful world like this. 'He's coming,' said Sam, his voice shaking. Dean pulled at his arm harder, seeming to snap Sam out of his trance. With a final look at the bodies littering the ground, one an enemy, and one someone Sam had trusted with his life, only to be betrayed when it had mattered most, they ran.
Ruby. If he never heard that name again, he would die a happy man. Sam stumbled, tripping over the flagstones. Dean slowed, letting his brother catch up. He tripped again, sprawling across the stone floor. 'Come on Sammy, up you get,' coaxed Dean, crouching to help his brother up. Sam turned his tear-streaked face to Dean, his hazel eyes full of guilt and fear and grief.
'It's my fault,' he whispered, his voice cracking as he made no effort to get up
'No, Sammy, it's not your fault. The bitch had us all fooled, even me.'
'But if I hadn't killed Lilith, the cage wouldn't be opening,' he persisted, looking at the floor.
'Yeah, and if I hadn't broken in hell, the first seal wouldn't have broken. It's my damn fault!' roared Dean, snapping. 'Now get the hell up and run!'
Silently, Sam climbed to his feet. 'Now let's put as many miles between us and the son of a bitch as we can,' Dean said, and they raced towards the exit, pounding on the doors as they slammed shut when they weren't even a foot away with a futile desperation. As he banged, the words spoken by Cas when Dean was in the hospital rippled in his mind. 'You are that righteous man. You must stop Lucifer. It must be you.'
He had cried, told Cas he wasn't strong enough. He still wasn't. He was nobody's savior. He was strong enough to end the world, but he couldn't kill the damn devil. 'Not strong enough,' he growled, banging his clenched fist violently against the sturdy oak door. The light intensified, and came with a high pitched ringing that nearly brought both brothers to their knees. Dean looked back at the pit, spewing light and made a decision. One that would last the rest of his life.
'Forgive me.'
Sam turned to look at his brother. 'What?' he asked, sure he had heard wrong. If anyone should be asking forgiveness, it should be him. He chose a demon over his own brother, and that in itself was unforgivable, but more than that, he had tried to kill Dean, kill his big brother, when in reality, he would die for Dean, in a second.
'Forgive me.'
'What for?'
'This.' Then Dean did something that would haunt Sam for the rest of his life. He ran. Not away from this evil place, but back towards the pit, back towards Lucifer. He stooped down where She lay and picked up the knife. The knife that both he and Dean had come to rely on too heavily. It was the knife they had leant on when nothing else worked, the knife they had faced Lilith with, the knife Sam had been sure would save Dean from hell. He then went to the edge of the pit. His short hair was flattened from the force of the wind following the light from the pit. He removed his necklace, the necklace he had worn for two and half decades, the one possession he treasured more than anything. Sam had given it to him one Christmas, the Christmas he had learnt the truth about what John did. The necklace was as much a part of himself as his anti possession tattoo, or his hair and eye colour was. He hung it on the pulpit, untouched by blood and death and demons. 'Goodbye Sammy,' he shouted over the roar of Lucifer's cage. 'I love you.'
And with that, he raised the knife, bringing it down on his arm, cutting three long, deep gashes in it, slicing through the flesh and veins. Scarlet blood poured from his hand as he gripped the knife shakily with his injured hand, replicating the wounds on his right arm. Red flowed freely into the gaping hole, the light pulsing and flickering as more and more flowed in. And still Sam watched, frozen.
There was a guttural noise as the light pulsated on and off, the hole in the floor receding as more of Dean's life trickled through his fingers.
As suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. The church was just that again. A church. All that was in it was Sam, the dead demons, and Dean. His face was pale, almost translucent as he smiled weakly as Sam, before crumpling to the floor. What little blood he had left pooled around him as Sam scrambled to his side, gathering him in his arms. 'Dean,' he sobbed. 'Don't do this. Please Dean. Don't make me say goodbye. I won't watch you die again. Please,' Tears mixed with blood as he cradled his dying brother in his arms, feeling the heartbeat slow steadily. His arms tightened around him and tears fell faster. As they both gripped onto each other, brother to brother, heaven watched as their savior breathed his last.
They buried Dean at the place where it began and ended, Sam, Bobby and even Castiel wielding spaces. Castiel had tried to bring him back, God knows he had tried, but he just couldn't. Dean was enduring something no-one should ever have to. A second term in hell. And he was under much tighter lock and key this time. With Lucifer himself. When Dean had poured his life blood into the cage, it had sealed Lucifer in hell, the Winchester's soul with it.
It hadn't stopped him trying. His once unmarred vessel was battled scarred and damaged, but still Dean languished in hell. They sent angel after angel after angel down there, fighting for their hero. But when an archangel died, even Gabriel deemed it too risky. Still Castiel tried, along with a select few others. Seventeen times he had tried, and he was damned if he was giving up now.
Castiel and Sam were standing at Dean's grave, silent, paying their respects to someone they had both respected so much in life. Sam in a button up shirt and jeans, Castiel having long ago rejected his trench coat and suit for faded and torn jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, grudgingly consigning his coat to the closet. Around his neck, as a constant reminder of why he was risking his life over and over, he wore Dean's amulet. Sam's eyes were a little sadder every time he looked at it, but it helped them both remember a brother and a hero.
Sam broke the silence first. 'Why did he go to hell? After all he did for you guys, why hell?'
Castiel had no answer.
'He gave his life to save the whole world, and you couldn't let him go to paradise?'
'I had no say,' Castiel said evenly. After several years on earth, he had gained a basic use of emotion, but he worked hard to keep up the façade of unfeeling angel. If he didn't care on the outside, he could kid himself he didn't care on the inside.
Sam looked at him bitterly, his eyes centuries older than his thirty four years. 'No say? You're a damned angel, and you couldn't take my brother to the heaven you banged on about? To God?'
Castiel looked at the ground. He heard footsteps coming up behind him, and he turned to see two of his brothers standing behind him. Blonde haired blue eyed Michael, and black haired violet eyed Asasiel stood quietly, dressed for battle. 'It's time.' Michael said quietly, his English accent dulled by the gravity of the situation. Castiel turned back to Sam, his blue eyes sparkling with hope.
'Pray for us, Samuel,' he said, before walking away with his brothers, vanishing into the mist.
Sam waited for them to come back, waiting by Dean's grave. Days passed. Weeks. He kept waiting, kept hoping. Another angel, Raniel, the Castiel to Dean's Sam kept him company, her green eyes watching him intently. It was her that gave him hope, that kept him believing.
Finally, a year and a day after Castiel had left, figures appeared in the mist, walking towards him. Four figures. Castiel, his shirt singed, blood matting in his hair. Michael, his angelic features perfect. Asasiel, limping. All three with a smile on their face that made Sam's heart jump.
The final figure was shrouded in shadows, his head bowed. He looked up at Sam, his hazel eyes meeting piercing emerald eyes. Eyes he hadn't seen nine years.
Author: paracaerouvoar
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: None
Summary: "And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man spills blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break."
Light flooded into the musty old church, illuminating the pews, throwing ugly shadows over the room. Dean Winchester watched Lucifer's cage open with a growing dread. This was all his fault. Everything. He had broken the first seal. The minute he had picked up that knife, he had signed away the human race to the devil. Alistair's words rang in his ears, echoing in the silence of the church, making the situation seem even graver. Both brothers were bathed in an incandescent glow, frozen to the spot. Dean turned to leave, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to face his brother, seeing the naked terror on his face. It instilled a sense of purely instinctual rage. Sam was his baby brother, he shouldn't have to live in a godawful world like this. 'He's coming,' said Sam, his voice shaking. Dean pulled at his arm harder, seeming to snap Sam out of his trance. With a final look at the bodies littering the ground, one an enemy, and one someone Sam had trusted with his life, only to be betrayed when it had mattered most, they ran.
Ruby. If he never heard that name again, he would die a happy man. Sam stumbled, tripping over the flagstones. Dean slowed, letting his brother catch up. He tripped again, sprawling across the stone floor. 'Come on Sammy, up you get,' coaxed Dean, crouching to help his brother up. Sam turned his tear-streaked face to Dean, his hazel eyes full of guilt and fear and grief.
'It's my fault,' he whispered, his voice cracking as he made no effort to get up
'No, Sammy, it's not your fault. The bitch had us all fooled, even me.'
'But if I hadn't killed Lilith, the cage wouldn't be opening,' he persisted, looking at the floor.
'Yeah, and if I hadn't broken in hell, the first seal wouldn't have broken. It's my damn fault!' roared Dean, snapping. 'Now get the hell up and run!'
Silently, Sam climbed to his feet. 'Now let's put as many miles between us and the son of a bitch as we can,' Dean said, and they raced towards the exit, pounding on the doors as they slammed shut when they weren't even a foot away with a futile desperation. As he banged, the words spoken by Cas when Dean was in the hospital rippled in his mind. 'You are that righteous man. You must stop Lucifer. It must be you.'
He had cried, told Cas he wasn't strong enough. He still wasn't. He was nobody's savior. He was strong enough to end the world, but he couldn't kill the damn devil. 'Not strong enough,' he growled, banging his clenched fist violently against the sturdy oak door. The light intensified, and came with a high pitched ringing that nearly brought both brothers to their knees. Dean looked back at the pit, spewing light and made a decision. One that would last the rest of his life.
'Forgive me.'
Sam turned to look at his brother. 'What?' he asked, sure he had heard wrong. If anyone should be asking forgiveness, it should be him. He chose a demon over his own brother, and that in itself was unforgivable, but more than that, he had tried to kill Dean, kill his big brother, when in reality, he would die for Dean, in a second.
'Forgive me.'
'What for?'
'This.' Then Dean did something that would haunt Sam for the rest of his life. He ran. Not away from this evil place, but back towards the pit, back towards Lucifer. He stooped down where She lay and picked up the knife. The knife that both he and Dean had come to rely on too heavily. It was the knife they had leant on when nothing else worked, the knife they had faced Lilith with, the knife Sam had been sure would save Dean from hell. He then went to the edge of the pit. His short hair was flattened from the force of the wind following the light from the pit. He removed his necklace, the necklace he had worn for two and half decades, the one possession he treasured more than anything. Sam had given it to him one Christmas, the Christmas he had learnt the truth about what John did. The necklace was as much a part of himself as his anti possession tattoo, or his hair and eye colour was. He hung it on the pulpit, untouched by blood and death and demons. 'Goodbye Sammy,' he shouted over the roar of Lucifer's cage. 'I love you.'
And with that, he raised the knife, bringing it down on his arm, cutting three long, deep gashes in it, slicing through the flesh and veins. Scarlet blood poured from his hand as he gripped the knife shakily with his injured hand, replicating the wounds on his right arm. Red flowed freely into the gaping hole, the light pulsing and flickering as more and more flowed in. And still Sam watched, frozen.
There was a guttural noise as the light pulsated on and off, the hole in the floor receding as more of Dean's life trickled through his fingers.
As suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. The church was just that again. A church. All that was in it was Sam, the dead demons, and Dean. His face was pale, almost translucent as he smiled weakly as Sam, before crumpling to the floor. What little blood he had left pooled around him as Sam scrambled to his side, gathering him in his arms. 'Dean,' he sobbed. 'Don't do this. Please Dean. Don't make me say goodbye. I won't watch you die again. Please,' Tears mixed with blood as he cradled his dying brother in his arms, feeling the heartbeat slow steadily. His arms tightened around him and tears fell faster. As they both gripped onto each other, brother to brother, heaven watched as their savior breathed his last.
They buried Dean at the place where it began and ended, Sam, Bobby and even Castiel wielding spaces. Castiel had tried to bring him back, God knows he had tried, but he just couldn't. Dean was enduring something no-one should ever have to. A second term in hell. And he was under much tighter lock and key this time. With Lucifer himself. When Dean had poured his life blood into the cage, it had sealed Lucifer in hell, the Winchester's soul with it.
It hadn't stopped him trying. His once unmarred vessel was battled scarred and damaged, but still Dean languished in hell. They sent angel after angel after angel down there, fighting for their hero. But when an archangel died, even Gabriel deemed it too risky. Still Castiel tried, along with a select few others. Seventeen times he had tried, and he was damned if he was giving up now.
Castiel and Sam were standing at Dean's grave, silent, paying their respects to someone they had both respected so much in life. Sam in a button up shirt and jeans, Castiel having long ago rejected his trench coat and suit for faded and torn jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, grudgingly consigning his coat to the closet. Around his neck, as a constant reminder of why he was risking his life over and over, he wore Dean's amulet. Sam's eyes were a little sadder every time he looked at it, but it helped them both remember a brother and a hero.
Sam broke the silence first. 'Why did he go to hell? After all he did for you guys, why hell?'
Castiel had no answer.
'He gave his life to save the whole world, and you couldn't let him go to paradise?'
'I had no say,' Castiel said evenly. After several years on earth, he had gained a basic use of emotion, but he worked hard to keep up the façade of unfeeling angel. If he didn't care on the outside, he could kid himself he didn't care on the inside.
Sam looked at him bitterly, his eyes centuries older than his thirty four years. 'No say? You're a damned angel, and you couldn't take my brother to the heaven you banged on about? To God?'
Castiel looked at the ground. He heard footsteps coming up behind him, and he turned to see two of his brothers standing behind him. Blonde haired blue eyed Michael, and black haired violet eyed Asasiel stood quietly, dressed for battle. 'It's time.' Michael said quietly, his English accent dulled by the gravity of the situation. Castiel turned back to Sam, his blue eyes sparkling with hope.
'Pray for us, Samuel,' he said, before walking away with his brothers, vanishing into the mist.
Sam waited for them to come back, waiting by Dean's grave. Days passed. Weeks. He kept waiting, kept hoping. Another angel, Raniel, the Castiel to Dean's Sam kept him company, her green eyes watching him intently. It was her that gave him hope, that kept him believing.
Finally, a year and a day after Castiel had left, figures appeared in the mist, walking towards him. Four figures. Castiel, his shirt singed, blood matting in his hair. Michael, his angelic features perfect. Asasiel, limping. All three with a smile on their face that made Sam's heart jump.
The final figure was shrouded in shadows, his head bowed. He looked up at Sam, his hazel eyes meeting piercing emerald eyes. Eyes he hadn't seen nine years.