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[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

the rhyme of salvation

Destiel fix-it, rated T, 2k chapter three (the end!)

“Dean?”

The archangel’s heart leapt at the sound of his name in the real Cas’s voice, groggy and dazed and beautiful - but it was quickly followed by his stomach caving in and his nose exploding with pain under the Shadow’s fist and knee, respectively.

“Dean!”

“Don’t. Move. Castiel,” the Shadow snarled, holding Dean up on his knees with one hand fisted in his hair. “Or I’ll tear his wings off one at a time.”

“His - wings?” Rage, confusion, and disbelief wrestled across Cas’s face. He leaned off the edge of the throne, brimming with tension and white-knuckling the chair arms.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean grinned under his bleeding nose. Seeing Cas awake and alive (sort of) sent euphoria bubbling up from his chest to his brain, outweighing the pain until his fractured nose felt more like a papercut.

And hey, that was fucking cool: with a minor flex of power, Dean healed the broken cartilage and erased the blood from his face. 

“We beat Chuck, Jack is God now, and he made me an archangel. Pretty sweet feathers, huh?” Yeah, he preened, flaring all his wings out to show them off, but like he was gonna have this kind of equipment and not show off for Cas?

Cas looked shocked and gutted at the same time. “And you… died?” 

“Nope,” Dean said cheerfully. “Came to get you back.”

“Not that this isn’t a touching little reunion,” the Empty bit out, yanking Dean’s head back to a harsh angle, “but all the go-getter attitude in the world doesn’t change the fact that Castiel belongs to me.” Its mouth spread in a sinister Cheshire smile. “He agreed to be mine.”

“Yeah, the thing about that is,” Dean said, and shoved back up on his feet, all in the same movement bashing his rocklike head into the Shadow’s stolen skull. It cried out and stumbled back. “I never agreed to it.”

Taking a deep breath, Dean turned and met wide blue eyes. “And he was mine a long time before he was yours.”

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