SPN Ficlet: Up From Perdition
Up From Perdition
By: Vain
9/18/2008
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Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot. Supernatural and all the elements therein are the intellectual property / registered trademarks of Eric Kripke and the CW. This is entirely a work of fiction; no profit is being made.
Summary: Some souls will be saved whether they want it or not.
Pairings: Castiel/Dean & hints of Sam/Dean
Warnings: slash, season 4 S.P.O.I.L.E.R.S., un-beta-ed. Please forgive any errors.
Rated: G
Length: about 700 words; complete.
Notes: This ficlet is all zanzou_chan and seraphwings's fault. And Kripke, because the season premier made plot bunnies explode in my head.
Pimped at sn_slash, hurt_dean, deancastiel, & spn_castiel.
Plagiarizers will be puppy chow, but reviews rock my salt.
Enjoy!
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He whispered in his ear, low and sweet and with the voice of an angel. There, in the darkness, pierced through with metal and alight with pain, the child could hear him and turned his face towards the Eternal. He pleaded for forgiveness then--not for forgiveness from his sins (so many sins)--but for not being worthy.
And Castiel's heart ached for him.
He whispered in his ear, a promise of salvation, and Dean Winchester turned away. He had no context for salvation. No understanding. He turned back down to the Pit and his chains tightened and twisted, lightening dancing over them. He did not believe in salvation.
He has no faith, Castiel despaired in his heart.
Around them, Hell yawned and screamed.
He whispered in his ear, a lullaby and a prayer, and the tormented soul shuddered in his bondage and choked out a single plea: "Sammy..."
And Castiel bled for him in that moment because the plea should not have been for an abomination, but for God.
DeanDeanDeanDean, he whispered, his voice binding the wretched mortal as surely as those pitiless chains, and Dean screamed.
"SAM!!!!!"
And Castiel caught his lips in a kiss and replaced the false idol's name with His Glory, for an angel can only be glorious. An angel can only be pure. An angel can only be salvation--one way or another. And Dean Winchester's false god could not save him from Hell.
Only the Eternal could do that.
And only Castiel could ascend and bring His Grace to the one place were there is no mercy or salvation.
Dean fought the kiss--fought salvation--like the demon he would one day become if he stayed here.
SamSamSamSam--
Tainted and bleeding, stretched thin and tortured, the boy was beautiful for a moment and Castiel hesitated, enraptured by his flaws.
But there is no escape from His Will. Or from an angel's glory. And Heaven would not be denied.
OursOursOurs, he countered--corrected--with heat and infinite love and pity. And somewhere, deep in the untarnished core of himself, Castiel whispered 'MineMineMine. Mine now.' and laid his hands on the boy.
There was screaming--both from the mortal and from the metal--and Hell shuddered around them as Glory expanded and spread and ripped a gaping wound into the fabric of the nightmare around them. Under his hands, embraced by His Light and cradled by the Eternal, Dean's non-existent flesh puckered and shriveled. His soul writhed and pulsed and pain and hurt poured out him to stain Castiel's essence.
He held on anyway.
OursMineOurs moved through the pitiful thing that was the boy's soul as all the impurities rose to the surface and fought against His greater Glory. It fought SamSamSam, choked it, but could not defeat it. Even so, Dean eventually became still and quiet in his hands--smooth and formless like clay, but marred by so, so many imperfections.
"Leave me . . ." the boy pleaded, soul twisted in on itself with the agony of purification.
Come with me, his whispered in his ear then. DeanOursMineChild, come with me.
"Sam . . ."
Such pitiful resistance.
I cannot save this one, Castiel despaired, knowing that he had to try anyway. He has no faith. He cannot believe. He cannot love . . . Could not love anything but the false idol. The Boy King.
But he pulled the boy up from perdition anyway, Dean's tattered soul struggling the whole way. Because he was of the Light and the Glory and such things could not be denied--not even by Dean Winchester.
Hell twisted around them, trying to reclaim its captive even as it tried to vomit Castiel out, but the darkness could not touch them anymore and in his arms Dean burned and glowed like a small sun, a lesser shine lost within his own Glory. And soon the sound of SamSamSam was lost in the roar of the Light and the terror that all mortals must know when touched by the Divine.
SamSamSam was drowned out and Dean’s soul distorted and shifted, consuming Ours and Mine until all that left was endless heat and Castiel's terrible, terrible Grace.
Sleep. No dreams. No pain. No fear. OursMine now. I am here. I won't ever leave. DeanOursMineChild. Surrender.
And then came a soft sweet darkness that felt like Castiel's lips and Light on his skin. And then there was nothing.
Later, in a gas station in Illinois, Castiel would whisper again--salvation, possession, a promise--and Dean Winchester would bleed from his ears and swear he couldn't hear a thing. But when the night became still and quiet and he lay in the dizzy place between sleeping and waking--in the place between what he'd been in Hell and what he was reborn to be in Glory--he would hear a voice whisper low and sweet, ‘MineMineMine.’
And he would know fear.
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