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My computer seems to have depressed me more than I thought...
... because here's all the stuff I've finished in the last coupla days, and they're kinda angsty... Well, two are, one's just straight crack.
Little Pink Guns
Crack | G | Dean/Castiel | Sam is confused when Dean's tastes suddenly change. He's more confused when Dean has a gay crisis.
#70 on the prompt table. Embarrassment
Sam, being the person that spent the most time with Dean, noticed the little things. Like, when Dean was happy, he would blast Metalica and sing along loudly and off key until Sam laughed or joined in. When he was sad, Dean would play Boston quietly, tapping his fingers lightly, almost unconsciously, on the wheel as he drove. Sam knew Dean, know his tastes in... well, everything.
So when they met up with two pretty girls at a bar, he was very surprised at which one Dean hit on. Girl #1 was slight, with dark brown hair and blue green eyes. Girl #2 was taller, tanned and blonde. Sam nearly did a double take when Dean went for Girl #1.
"How you doin' today, gorgeous?" Dean asked, inserting himself between the two of them and directing his question at Girl #1. She giggled and told him she was doing a lot better now. Dean chuckled and asked Girl #2 the same question, but with a slightly less interested tone. Not that anyone other than Sam would be able to tell it was less interested.
Dean got Girl #2's phone number in less than five minutes, but held out until #1 gave him an email address which he accepted with a smile, then turned away and pocketed with a scowl. That was one girl who'd never hear from him again. Email and Dean did not mesh well.
___
They climbed back in the car, Sam pointedly not asking about Dean's choice in girls, because they were both pretty hot and he was sure it was kind of unhealthy to know as much about Dean as he did, although nothing about their relationship was really healthy, by any standard, but Dean did not just switch his style, and-
"What're you moping about?" Dean asked, one hand on the wheel and one eye on the road. The other eye was on Sam, but not actually on him, because that would be weird and terrifying, but definitely pointed in his direction.
"Nothing," Sam said. Which was very untrue, but he'd learned not to bother Dean with things like observations normal little brothers didn't make because they didn't spend every waking second with their siblings and probably got to say things out loud and probably didn't ramble nearly as much in their heads.
Dean sighed and turned both his eyes back to the road. Sam knew that meant that Dean didn't buy it for a second, but, being incredibly closed off himself, wasn't going to push it unless it threatened Sam's physical wellbeing. His mental wellbeing kind of already shot at that point, but whatever, he could still walk so it was all good.
___
The next time they went out, to a diner of all places, Dean made eyes at a chick with a dude haircut.
She was cute, and her hair was in a longish pixie cut, but Dean never ever went for any girls with hair under four inches long. Ever. Sam kept glancing over her head to see if their was a blonde with long, slightly curly, hair reaching past her shoulders, preferably with big boobs and a tan, but there was none to be found.
What. The. Hell.
___
The next time Dean tried to pick up a girl, this one a short brunette that had OD'd botox or something because she did not smile frown or actually move her facial muscles once during the entire twenty minutes Dean was flirting with her, it clicked.
Sam literally saw a light bulb flash behind his eyes and nearly smacked himself in the forehead because it was so. Fucking. Simple.
Dean and Sam both walked out of the bar with grins. Dean's was because he got botox's phone number, scribbled on a napkin in purple pen. Sam's was because of his minor epiphany and all the ribbing that came with it.
"What're you smiling about?" Dean asked good-naturedly.
"You like an angel," Sam said in the special tone he'd had reserved specially for making fun of Dean since the age of three. Dean raised an eyebrow.
"What, Anna? Hate to break it to you, Sammy, but that was a more of a one time thing."
"No, Cas," Sam said, ignoring Dean's reply.
"Sam..." Dean said, "Cas is a dude. I don't swing that way."
"Then why has every girl you've picked up lately looked exactly like him?"
The grin slipped off Dean's face. Well, it didn't literally slip, because his mouth was still attached, but it faded into the corners in a relaxed motion Sam supposed was called a slip, metaphorically. Dean paled, his color quickly slipping from a healthy tan to the color of unmicrowaved oatmeal and Sam wasn't exaggerating on that part, Dean seriously looked freaked out of his mind and ready to hurl.
Oh. Dean was kind of dense sometimes. Maybe he hadn't noticed.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
Sam shut up, lest Dean throw him out of the car.
_Fix
4.20 Tag | G | Gennnish, minor Dean/Castiel |Castiel was pulled to heaven for his disobedience
#72 - Broken
Castiel was pulled up to heaven for his disobedience. His disobedience was letting Dean Winchester rub off on him, and that particular influence showed itself when he received his summons and the first thought in his head was 'those dicks.'
Castiel was supposed to be a good influence on his charge, not the other way around.
So, when Castiel arrived in heaven five minutes late, a small amount of time to humans but a huge transgression for angels, his superiors were not pleased.
"Castiel," boomed an inflectionless voice from all around him, it's speaker unseen, "to the crimes of disobedience how to you plead?" That question had no right answer, Castiel was simply to submit to the voice's judgment and pray for survival.
"I give my regrets," Castiel said, dropping to his knees and bowing his head.
"As you well should," the voice boomed. "For your crimes a punishment must be enacted. Have you anything to say?"
"I do not."
That was a lie, and every soul in heaven knew it. He wanted to say that a trial with preset answers was unjust, that humans had a better hold on righteousness then the angels, but this was wrong. No matter how right it seemed, it was very wrong.
Castiel's eyes slid shut, and he prayed. Prayed for a path to follow, instructions on how to work with all of the new pieces inside him. He had already felt Wrath.
(Uriel who had thought himself better than the Almighty that had given him life and killed his brothers, his allies in a war against all they hated, killed his family like bugs humans squished underfoot and had the audacity to call himself righteous)
And Envy.
(Iofiel, who'd Fell, who'd become Anna and only Anna, the graceful graceless one and felt everything, had spent years with emotions and sex and chocolate cake and lived without this confusion, without this pain and had gotten away with her grace and all those memories that Castiel would never have)
And Lust.
(Dean Winchester, arrogant disrespectful Dean Winchester calling him by that infuriating abbreviation, Cas not Castiel, not anymore, then everyone was calling him that, but the only lips he would not smite were Dean's)
And it could only get worse.
Fix me, I am broken, he prayed.
The voice complied, breaking him anew and guiding the pieces into place.
_Should They Kill Me
Angst | R | Dean/Castiel |They had faced each other down across the battlefield, eyes finding each other within the crowds. Castiel standing with heaven's army, coat abandoned for armor, and Dean standing with hell, eyes black as coals.
#80 - Forgiveness
The first time Castiel was killed was in battle. Dean shot him through the heart. They had faced each other down across the battlefield, eyes finding each other within the crowds. Castiel standing with heaven's army, coat abandoned for armor, and Dean standing with hell, eyes black as coals.
Gabriel stepped forward, holding a great spear in one hand, flaming sword at his waist. Smirking, Lilith mirrored his actions, a whip coiled on her belt.
"In the name of the Lord, we will stop you," Gabriel announced, voice rolling over the soldiers like thunder.
"Melodramatic much?" Lilith sneered, arms crossing over her chest. "Let's just get this over with, shall we?" The demons behind her hollered, screaming and stomping their bloodlust. The angels tightened their grips on their weapons uneasily.
"We shall," Gabriel said, eyes burning.
With that heaven took it's cue to move.
Castiel was in third wave back, reaching the battle as the foremost soldiers in each line met with spears and swords and guns and hands and teeth.
Something, Castiel didn't have enough time to place it, came at him, aiming wicked claws at his eyes. Castiel sidestepped, digging his fingers into the fur of it's wrist and pulling, drawing blood and dropping the thing to it's knees. He pressed one palm to the things snout and it thrashed, coughing blood as he moved on, this time to a demon holding a curved knife and wearing the body of a teenage boy.
As he whirled around the battlefield, helping his brothers and sisters where he could, stepping over bodies where he couldn't, Castiel prayed in his head. Prayed for all of it to just stop, for the world to just slow down and stop spinning for one second so he could sit down and think and find anyone he cared for that was still alive and maybe get the blood out of his hair if only everything would just slow down-
"Castiel!" called a familiar voice, gritty with anger.
It was Dean, standing yards from him, the path between them miraculously clear as the fight clashed on around them.
"Dean," Castiel said, going to a standstill. The demon that used to be Dean grinned, a smile like a gash and so full of hatred that it could have carved out Castiel's soul. The demon stared him down, eyes turning from a living green to dead black, smiling that horrible smile.
Castiel was slammed backwards, not realizing he was shot until he felt the bullet breaking through his armor and shredding through skin and crushing through one of Jimmy Novak's ribs before lodging itself just under Castiel's heart.
He fell onto the battleground, blood flooding his mouth and hand going to his chest to lightly press over the wound. The demon that used to be Dean Winchester stood over him, blowing the smoke off the tip of the gun like a cowboy in one of those movies Castiel had watched over his shoulder.
"Bet that hurts," the demon said calmly.
Castiel said nothing, blood pooling in the back of his throat, running down his cheek. Dean squatted down, grin slipping as he reached forward and grabbed a handful of Castiel's hair, bringing the angel's face to the level of his knees.
"Bet it hurts real bad," he hissed. "Like Sam hurt when you killed him."
Castiel wanted to say it. Wanted to tell Dean that he had no choice, that Sam was going to bring about the end of days, that he had no choice, that he wished he hadn't because it hadn't stopped anything for real, only slowed it down. But he couldn't say it.
Dean pulled the knife off his belt and calmly slit Castiel's throat.
___
Castiel was reborn in heaven, his soul being repaired by his siblings and Jimmy's body asleep. Heaven was too short on soldiers to let them move on, scavenging souls from the battlefields and patching them back together with fluff and prayer, leaving Castiel feeling hollow and shaky, like a hard fall would shatter him apart again, little pieces of his soul breaking on the ground like glass.
He quietly slipped back into Jimmy's body and returned to the battle raging over earth.
___
The battle had finally lulled, not died down, but calmed momentarily as the angels and demons, all beings made for war, grew tired and called momentary truce to rest.
Castiel had never felt tired before the war started. Now he was always tired.
His hip ached from where he narrowly dodged a sword and it scored him, his forearm itched from the imprints of something's teeth, and he stung from dozens of other miscellaneous injuries, some less serious than others, some escaping his notice entirely, all healing slowly under his grace's ministrations.
"Castiel." It was said quieter that time, voice soft and tired.
"Dean," Castiel replied. That was their script, what they said, nothing else of any real importance anymore other than that they remembered each other. Castiel remembered Dean before he'd turned his back on everything, the last thread binding him to God snapping with Sam's death. And he was sure Dean remembered a time when he didn't hate Castiel. When they were nearly friends.
"It's not too late for forgiveness," Castiel said. Dean was behind him, and Castiel didn't look back.
"Fuck forgiveness," Dean growled, grabbing Castiel's shoulder and stabbing him through the stomach with a spear he'd taken from an angel's dead grasp.
Castiel had just enough time to slump back onto Dean's chest and see the tip of the spear through his torso and think that he knew which angel's cold dead hands Dean took it from before Dean pushed him to the ground and he died with a faceful of mud.
___
Heaven repaired him like a broken doll and set him back into battle. Dean stabbed him in the bicep, rendering his left arm useless, then beheaded him.
Dean cut his leg off and watched as the bled to death, killing any who tried to help Castiel.
Castiel was brought to his knees in front of another demon and Dean killed it before it could stab the angel. Then he slit Castiel's throat as he reeled.
A gang of lesser demons captured Castiel, ambushing him then dragging him struggling to lie at Dean's feet. Dean stabbed Castiel through, pinning him to the ground like a butterfly to cardboard, then killed the lesser demons for touching what was his.
___
Castiel, more tired than any being had the right to be, walked back and forth over the battlefield, searching for survivors to be rescued and repaired.
Dean was pinned under the body of a large angel, struggling to escape but unable, the angel's knife buried in his chest, opposite his heart. He was covered in blood, some his, but mostly others.
"Dean," Castiel said, stopping just in his former charge's line of sight. Dean paused, halting his movements and staring at Castiel. His eyes were green.
"Castiel." This time it was bone tired, worn down the bare essentials and cracked to pieces. Castiel walked to him, moving the angel and kneeling beside the demon that used to be Dean. Dean didn't move. "Gonna kill me?"
"Are we done with this, Dean? You can be forgiven."
Dean chuckled weakly, leaning back on the ground, legs splayed uselessly before him.
"We're not done. And you can't be forgiven." His eyes turned black, the stain spreading from his pupils like an oil spill. "You killed Sam."
"Dean..." Castiel whispered, closing his eyes.
"Gonna kill me?" Dean repeated. "Cas?" There was a glimmer of hope buried underneath the tiredness.
Castiel nodded. He opened his eyes and placed his hand reverently on Dean's cheek.
Dean, in true Winchester fashion, fisted his hand in Castiel's collar, pulling the angel into a rough kiss.
Castiel let himself be kissed, tasting blood and ashes and sweat and Dean.
Then he burnt out Dean Winchester's soul.
Dean slowly went limp, and Castiel unwound his hand from his collar, lying Dean's body down in the dirt. His eyes were already closed, face relaxed.
Castiel walked away, searching for survivors.
~fin
Little Pink Guns
Crack | G | Dean/Castiel | Sam is confused when Dean's tastes suddenly change. He's more confused when Dean has a gay crisis.
#70 on the prompt table. Embarrassment
Sam, being the person that spent the most time with Dean, noticed the little things. Like, when Dean was happy, he would blast Metalica and sing along loudly and off key until Sam laughed or joined in. When he was sad, Dean would play Boston quietly, tapping his fingers lightly, almost unconsciously, on the wheel as he drove. Sam knew Dean, know his tastes in... well, everything.
So when they met up with two pretty girls at a bar, he was very surprised at which one Dean hit on. Girl #1 was slight, with dark brown hair and blue green eyes. Girl #2 was taller, tanned and blonde. Sam nearly did a double take when Dean went for Girl #1.
"How you doin' today, gorgeous?" Dean asked, inserting himself between the two of them and directing his question at Girl #1. She giggled and told him she was doing a lot better now. Dean chuckled and asked Girl #2 the same question, but with a slightly less interested tone. Not that anyone other than Sam would be able to tell it was less interested.
Dean got Girl #2's phone number in less than five minutes, but held out until #1 gave him an email address which he accepted with a smile, then turned away and pocketed with a scowl. That was one girl who'd never hear from him again. Email and Dean did not mesh well.
___
They climbed back in the car, Sam pointedly not asking about Dean's choice in girls, because they were both pretty hot and he was sure it was kind of unhealthy to know as much about Dean as he did, although nothing about their relationship was really healthy, by any standard, but Dean did not just switch his style, and-
"What're you moping about?" Dean asked, one hand on the wheel and one eye on the road. The other eye was on Sam, but not actually on him, because that would be weird and terrifying, but definitely pointed in his direction.
"Nothing," Sam said. Which was very untrue, but he'd learned not to bother Dean with things like observations normal little brothers didn't make because they didn't spend every waking second with their siblings and probably got to say things out loud and probably didn't ramble nearly as much in their heads.
Dean sighed and turned both his eyes back to the road. Sam knew that meant that Dean didn't buy it for a second, but, being incredibly closed off himself, wasn't going to push it unless it threatened Sam's physical wellbeing. His mental wellbeing kind of already shot at that point, but whatever, he could still walk so it was all good.
___
The next time they went out, to a diner of all places, Dean made eyes at a chick with a dude haircut.
She was cute, and her hair was in a longish pixie cut, but Dean never ever went for any girls with hair under four inches long. Ever. Sam kept glancing over her head to see if their was a blonde with long, slightly curly, hair reaching past her shoulders, preferably with big boobs and a tan, but there was none to be found.
What. The. Hell.
___
The next time Dean tried to pick up a girl, this one a short brunette that had OD'd botox or something because she did not smile frown or actually move her facial muscles once during the entire twenty minutes Dean was flirting with her, it clicked.
Sam literally saw a light bulb flash behind his eyes and nearly smacked himself in the forehead because it was so. Fucking. Simple.
Dean and Sam both walked out of the bar with grins. Dean's was because he got botox's phone number, scribbled on a napkin in purple pen. Sam's was because of his minor epiphany and all the ribbing that came with it.
"What're you smiling about?" Dean asked good-naturedly.
"You like an angel," Sam said in the special tone he'd had reserved specially for making fun of Dean since the age of three. Dean raised an eyebrow.
"What, Anna? Hate to break it to you, Sammy, but that was a more of a one time thing."
"No, Cas," Sam said, ignoring Dean's reply.
"Sam..." Dean said, "Cas is a dude. I don't swing that way."
"Then why has every girl you've picked up lately looked exactly like him?"
The grin slipped off Dean's face. Well, it didn't literally slip, because his mouth was still attached, but it faded into the corners in a relaxed motion Sam supposed was called a slip, metaphorically. Dean paled, his color quickly slipping from a healthy tan to the color of unmicrowaved oatmeal and Sam wasn't exaggerating on that part, Dean seriously looked freaked out of his mind and ready to hurl.
Oh. Dean was kind of dense sometimes. Maybe he hadn't noticed.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
Sam shut up, lest Dean throw him out of the car.
_Fix
4.20 Tag | G | Gennnish, minor Dean/Castiel |Castiel was pulled to heaven for his disobedience
#72 - Broken
Castiel was pulled up to heaven for his disobedience. His disobedience was letting Dean Winchester rub off on him, and that particular influence showed itself when he received his summons and the first thought in his head was 'those dicks.'
Castiel was supposed to be a good influence on his charge, not the other way around.
So, when Castiel arrived in heaven five minutes late, a small amount of time to humans but a huge transgression for angels, his superiors were not pleased.
"Castiel," boomed an inflectionless voice from all around him, it's speaker unseen, "to the crimes of disobedience how to you plead?" That question had no right answer, Castiel was simply to submit to the voice's judgment and pray for survival.
"I give my regrets," Castiel said, dropping to his knees and bowing his head.
"As you well should," the voice boomed. "For your crimes a punishment must be enacted. Have you anything to say?"
"I do not."
That was a lie, and every soul in heaven knew it. He wanted to say that a trial with preset answers was unjust, that humans had a better hold on righteousness then the angels, but this was wrong. No matter how right it seemed, it was very wrong.
Castiel's eyes slid shut, and he prayed. Prayed for a path to follow, instructions on how to work with all of the new pieces inside him. He had already felt Wrath.
(Uriel who had thought himself better than the Almighty that had given him life and killed his brothers, his allies in a war against all they hated, killed his family like bugs humans squished underfoot and had the audacity to call himself righteous)
And Envy.
(Iofiel, who'd Fell, who'd become Anna and only Anna, the graceful graceless one and felt everything, had spent years with emotions and sex and chocolate cake and lived without this confusion, without this pain and had gotten away with her grace and all those memories that Castiel would never have)
And Lust.
(Dean Winchester, arrogant disrespectful Dean Winchester calling him by that infuriating abbreviation, Cas not Castiel, not anymore, then everyone was calling him that, but the only lips he would not smite were Dean's)
And it could only get worse.
Fix me, I am broken, he prayed.
The voice complied, breaking him anew and guiding the pieces into place.
_Should They Kill Me
Angst | R | Dean/Castiel |They had faced each other down across the battlefield, eyes finding each other within the crowds. Castiel standing with heaven's army, coat abandoned for armor, and Dean standing with hell, eyes black as coals.
#80 - Forgiveness
The first time Castiel was killed was in battle. Dean shot him through the heart. They had faced each other down across the battlefield, eyes finding each other within the crowds. Castiel standing with heaven's army, coat abandoned for armor, and Dean standing with hell, eyes black as coals.
Gabriel stepped forward, holding a great spear in one hand, flaming sword at his waist. Smirking, Lilith mirrored his actions, a whip coiled on her belt.
"In the name of the Lord, we will stop you," Gabriel announced, voice rolling over the soldiers like thunder.
"Melodramatic much?" Lilith sneered, arms crossing over her chest. "Let's just get this over with, shall we?" The demons behind her hollered, screaming and stomping their bloodlust. The angels tightened their grips on their weapons uneasily.
"We shall," Gabriel said, eyes burning.
With that heaven took it's cue to move.
Castiel was in third wave back, reaching the battle as the foremost soldiers in each line met with spears and swords and guns and hands and teeth.
Something, Castiel didn't have enough time to place it, came at him, aiming wicked claws at his eyes. Castiel sidestepped, digging his fingers into the fur of it's wrist and pulling, drawing blood and dropping the thing to it's knees. He pressed one palm to the things snout and it thrashed, coughing blood as he moved on, this time to a demon holding a curved knife and wearing the body of a teenage boy.
As he whirled around the battlefield, helping his brothers and sisters where he could, stepping over bodies where he couldn't, Castiel prayed in his head. Prayed for all of it to just stop, for the world to just slow down and stop spinning for one second so he could sit down and think and find anyone he cared for that was still alive and maybe get the blood out of his hair if only everything would just slow down-
"Castiel!" called a familiar voice, gritty with anger.
It was Dean, standing yards from him, the path between them miraculously clear as the fight clashed on around them.
"Dean," Castiel said, going to a standstill. The demon that used to be Dean grinned, a smile like a gash and so full of hatred that it could have carved out Castiel's soul. The demon stared him down, eyes turning from a living green to dead black, smiling that horrible smile.
Castiel was slammed backwards, not realizing he was shot until he felt the bullet breaking through his armor and shredding through skin and crushing through one of Jimmy Novak's ribs before lodging itself just under Castiel's heart.
He fell onto the battleground, blood flooding his mouth and hand going to his chest to lightly press over the wound. The demon that used to be Dean Winchester stood over him, blowing the smoke off the tip of the gun like a cowboy in one of those movies Castiel had watched over his shoulder.
"Bet that hurts," the demon said calmly.
Castiel said nothing, blood pooling in the back of his throat, running down his cheek. Dean squatted down, grin slipping as he reached forward and grabbed a handful of Castiel's hair, bringing the angel's face to the level of his knees.
"Bet it hurts real bad," he hissed. "Like Sam hurt when you killed him."
Castiel wanted to say it. Wanted to tell Dean that he had no choice, that Sam was going to bring about the end of days, that he had no choice, that he wished he hadn't because it hadn't stopped anything for real, only slowed it down. But he couldn't say it.
Dean pulled the knife off his belt and calmly slit Castiel's throat.
___
Castiel was reborn in heaven, his soul being repaired by his siblings and Jimmy's body asleep. Heaven was too short on soldiers to let them move on, scavenging souls from the battlefields and patching them back together with fluff and prayer, leaving Castiel feeling hollow and shaky, like a hard fall would shatter him apart again, little pieces of his soul breaking on the ground like glass.
He quietly slipped back into Jimmy's body and returned to the battle raging over earth.
___
The battle had finally lulled, not died down, but calmed momentarily as the angels and demons, all beings made for war, grew tired and called momentary truce to rest.
Castiel had never felt tired before the war started. Now he was always tired.
His hip ached from where he narrowly dodged a sword and it scored him, his forearm itched from the imprints of something's teeth, and he stung from dozens of other miscellaneous injuries, some less serious than others, some escaping his notice entirely, all healing slowly under his grace's ministrations.
"Castiel." It was said quieter that time, voice soft and tired.
"Dean," Castiel replied. That was their script, what they said, nothing else of any real importance anymore other than that they remembered each other. Castiel remembered Dean before he'd turned his back on everything, the last thread binding him to God snapping with Sam's death. And he was sure Dean remembered a time when he didn't hate Castiel. When they were nearly friends.
"It's not too late for forgiveness," Castiel said. Dean was behind him, and Castiel didn't look back.
"Fuck forgiveness," Dean growled, grabbing Castiel's shoulder and stabbing him through the stomach with a spear he'd taken from an angel's dead grasp.
Castiel had just enough time to slump back onto Dean's chest and see the tip of the spear through his torso and think that he knew which angel's cold dead hands Dean took it from before Dean pushed him to the ground and he died with a faceful of mud.
___
Heaven repaired him like a broken doll and set him back into battle. Dean stabbed him in the bicep, rendering his left arm useless, then beheaded him.
Dean cut his leg off and watched as the bled to death, killing any who tried to help Castiel.
Castiel was brought to his knees in front of another demon and Dean killed it before it could stab the angel. Then he slit Castiel's throat as he reeled.
A gang of lesser demons captured Castiel, ambushing him then dragging him struggling to lie at Dean's feet. Dean stabbed Castiel through, pinning him to the ground like a butterfly to cardboard, then killed the lesser demons for touching what was his.
___
Castiel, more tired than any being had the right to be, walked back and forth over the battlefield, searching for survivors to be rescued and repaired.
Dean was pinned under the body of a large angel, struggling to escape but unable, the angel's knife buried in his chest, opposite his heart. He was covered in blood, some his, but mostly others.
"Dean," Castiel said, stopping just in his former charge's line of sight. Dean paused, halting his movements and staring at Castiel. His eyes were green.
"Castiel." This time it was bone tired, worn down the bare essentials and cracked to pieces. Castiel walked to him, moving the angel and kneeling beside the demon that used to be Dean. Dean didn't move. "Gonna kill me?"
"Are we done with this, Dean? You can be forgiven."
Dean chuckled weakly, leaning back on the ground, legs splayed uselessly before him.
"We're not done. And you can't be forgiven." His eyes turned black, the stain spreading from his pupils like an oil spill. "You killed Sam."
"Dean..." Castiel whispered, closing his eyes.
"Gonna kill me?" Dean repeated. "Cas?" There was a glimmer of hope buried underneath the tiredness.
Castiel nodded. He opened his eyes and placed his hand reverently on Dean's cheek.
Dean, in true Winchester fashion, fisted his hand in Castiel's collar, pulling the angel into a rough kiss.
Castiel let himself be kissed, tasting blood and ashes and sweat and Dean.
Then he burnt out Dean Winchester's soul.
Dean slowly went limp, and Castiel unwound his hand from his collar, lying Dean's body down in the dirt. His eyes were already closed, face relaxed.
Castiel walked away, searching for survivors.
~fin