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Title: Every Breath We Drew
Rating: PG
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Summary: Evil spreads like a virus among souls when no bodies are around to slow it. It’s an infection that can damn a person to Hell. Even if he’s already in Heaven.
Warnings: Established character death, Dean!whump, blasphemy
A/N: The eighth part of my Greyhound Bus ‘Verse. Or the GHB!Verse, as I’ve started calling it. Lyrics are from the Sarah Evans song Backseat of a Greyhound Bus. Title is from the song Hallelujah.
Word Count: 1460
Disclaimer: The characters and song lyrics aren’t mine. If they were, I’d be rich. Kinda.
She cried and laughed
While the red lights flashed
“I thought no one got hurt here,” John muttered, his forehead resting against the cool glass. “I thought this place was only here for the census.”
“It is,” Castiel said, leaning up against the glass beside him. “This is a special case.”
“And just how special is special?”
The angel’s Father joined them at the window. “Special. What Lucifer did to your son wasn’t new, by any means.”
“And what did he do?” Abby asked.
“He infected your daddy.”
“Infected him with what?”
“Evil. See, when a demon makes a deal with a person in life, the kiss transmits a sort of poison. Transfers evil from one soul to the next. That’s why the crossroads demons are so special. They can pass the toxin.”
“Ok,” John said, “so the higher level demons infect people with saliva in order to seal the deal. Why is it special?”
“Because,” God replied. “On Earth, the transfer damns the soul. It doesn’t immediately affect the host.”
Sam nodded. “It takes the designated amount of time. Usually ten years.”
“The hounds can track it. Then they take the soul to Hell, where it remains for all eternity. In short, the toxin tarnishes the soul, damns it while it’s still in the body.”
“What does it do if the poison’s administered after the person’s dead?”
He turned back to the closed-off hospital room. “No one knows. It’s never been an issue before. Looks like he’s sick.”
“And unconscious,” Cas pointed out. “But he’s not going back.”
“Back where?” God asked.
“Hell. You’re not sending him back.” That got a roar of approval from the crowd that had gathered in the waiting room. “I won’t let you.”
“I won’t. He doesn’t deserve that. But we have to keep him there, keep him quarantined. Evil like that, it spreads. Among humans, among angels. He’s a threat to the whole place.”
“You’re gonna leave him in there alone?”
He turned to look at the family. “Who’s gonna go in there with him?”
“I am.” Castiel turned on his heel and walked into the room.
-.-
Everything was burning. Hot, scorching pain radiating from his head to his toes, engulfing his thoughts. It hurt him to be there. Hurt him physically in a way that nothing had hurt him in years.
He was aware of fingers carding through his hair, nonsense words being spoken. Aware of bright eyes and soft lips. A constant presence at his side.
He didn’t deserve it. He was burning for a reason, was in pain because he wasn’t supposed to be there. Because he’d failed yet again.
One job. Stop the Devil. He hadn’t even been able to do that. Had just fucked it up and the bastard had found him. Had his lackeys rip him apart, and followed him to Heaven. The one place Dean didn’t deserve to ever see.
He wasn’t sure why he was still there. Why they didn’t just toss him back into the fire. At least the burning would make sense there. At least he deserved that.
He still couldn’t believe he’d been fooled. That he’d fooled himself. Let himself think he was worthy of it. Of everything. The house and the family and the kid. Oh, the kid. If he’d messed her up, he would never forgive himself. If she had to follow him…
He tried to tell whoever it was. Tried to make one last request. Save Abby. Save his baby. Save his girl.
He burnt.
-.-
“He’s not sick.”
“Of course he’s sick,” Sam argued, looking at his mother like she’d grown an extra head and it had just said the stupidest thing possible. Which, you know, halfway right, at least.
“Not Dean,” she whispered. She pointed through the thick glass at the two figures contained in the room. A sick, pale man in a hospital bed, and his constant companion. “Cas hasn’t left his side in two weeks, right?”
Sam nodded. “About, yeah. Why?”
“He’s not sick.”
Jimmy joined them at the glass. “You’re right. He looks fine.”
More people crowded around, all staring into the little room. “That’s impossible, though, isn’t it?” Jess asked. “I mean, God said-”
“God said evil spreads. It corrupts,” Jimmy offered. “But I think He was wrong.”
The deity in question raised His eyebrows. “Really?”
“No offense, Sir, but evil corrupts humans,” he nodded toward the two figures in the room, “not angels.”
“Explain Lucifer.”
“Pride.”
“Azazel.”
“Lust. They Fell for sins, not for the sake of evil. That’s a human trait. People go out and mindlessly murder others for the thrill. Angels murder on command, not for pleasure. And that’s all evil really is, isn’t it? Getting what you want, when you want, consequences be damned.”
God stepped to the window and gazed in at the two men. “I think you may be on to something, there. There’s only one way to test it, though.”
“And what’s that, Sir?”
God smiled.
-.-
“You’re not taking him!” Light flared to life in the room, so sudden it was temporarily blinding.
He had to admire His boy’s spunk, the spark of life and independence Dean had placed and carefully cultivated within the angel. But for the guy to actually consider standing up to his Father on this one? It was unexpected, to say the least.
“I’ll go in and get him out.”
He cocked His head, looking His boy over. Beautiful craftsmanship, if He did say so Himself. Elegance and grace and a dangerous thrum of power. “You won’t get back unless I let you in.”
Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Then I won’t be coming back.”
“You’d banish yourself to Hell for him?”
“I’ve disobeyed for him before.”
“The orders were unjust.”
“As is banishing the man who won Your War to Hell for trying to save Your granddaughter.”
He smiled. “Stand down, son. We think we’ve found a cure.”
Castiel blinked off instantly, the light fading, receding back into the human form he’d chosen for Dean. “You do?”
“If not, you and I are both screwed.” He looked past His wayward boy to the tarnished soul lying in the bed. “You’ve gotta let me see him.”
The angel nodded and stepped aside, eyes tracking his Father across the room and to the bed. He watched as the deity laid His hands on Dean’s chest and let His eyes slide shut.
The room was once again filled with a blinding light, and when Castiel opened his eyes, he found the bed empty. He turned on his Father, anger bubbling through his being, melting away the human shell he usually only shed for the man that had just been returned to Hell. “You sent him back,” he growled, voice shaking the windows in their frames.
God offered up a small smile and spread His hands out in a show of innocence. “Did I?”
He stepped to the side, revealing another angel. The being looked confused, staring down at its hands and flexing its fingers, before running them over its ruffled head and turning to him. Eyes that should have been amber glowed pine, and Castiel recognized it.
“Dean.”
Dean blinked. “What happened?”
“You got sick,” God said. “Not your fault. Fixed you. You’re welcome.”
Dean turned back to the nearest window and pulled up the blinds, staring into his own reflection. “What did you do to me?”
“It was the only way, son.”
“You… I’m human.”
“Not any more, you’re not.”
The new angel turned on Him, glaring. “No. Change me back.”
“It’s permanent. But if it’s any consolation, I am starting to regret it.”
Dean backed himself up against the window, fingers curling around the frame, body shaking, and Castiel understood. Angels were mindless, emotionless robots who aimed to please and only did as they were told. Any show of emotion, of humanity, was seen as a disobedience and punished harshly. Punished with torture or banishment. Punished with Hell.
But things had changed. He’d told Dean, considered himself proof of it.
He sighed, shrinking himself back into Jimmy Novak’s form, and stepped forward, arms held out. “Dean. It’s ok.”
“It’s not ok.”
“Things are different. The War’s over, and you have a choice. You always have a choice.”
“He’s right, son,” God added. “You didn’t choose this. You’re free to live your life however you want. Cas, too. You’re as human as you were before.”
Dean stared at them, eyes flicking between the two men who weren’t. “Why should I trust you?”
“Because I love you.”
“Because I said so.”
The hunter grinned and closed his eyes, the light in the room slowly fading as it was shaped into something familiar and strong. Something human.
“So,” Dean grinned. “This whole smiting thing…?”
Rating: PG
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Summary: Evil spreads like a virus among souls when no bodies are around to slow it. It’s an infection that can damn a person to Hell. Even if he’s already in Heaven.
Warnings: Established character death, Dean!whump, blasphemy
A/N: The eighth part of my Greyhound Bus ‘Verse. Or the GHB!Verse, as I’ve started calling it. Lyrics are from the Sarah Evans song Backseat of a Greyhound Bus. Title is from the song Hallelujah.
Word Count: 1460
Disclaimer: The characters and song lyrics aren’t mine. If they were, I’d be rich. Kinda.
She cried and laughed
While the red lights flashed
“I thought no one got hurt here,” John muttered, his forehead resting against the cool glass. “I thought this place was only here for the census.”
“It is,” Castiel said, leaning up against the glass beside him. “This is a special case.”
“And just how special is special?”
The angel’s Father joined them at the window. “Special. What Lucifer did to your son wasn’t new, by any means.”
“And what did he do?” Abby asked.
“He infected your daddy.”
“Infected him with what?”
“Evil. See, when a demon makes a deal with a person in life, the kiss transmits a sort of poison. Transfers evil from one soul to the next. That’s why the crossroads demons are so special. They can pass the toxin.”
“Ok,” John said, “so the higher level demons infect people with saliva in order to seal the deal. Why is it special?”
“Because,” God replied. “On Earth, the transfer damns the soul. It doesn’t immediately affect the host.”
Sam nodded. “It takes the designated amount of time. Usually ten years.”
“The hounds can track it. Then they take the soul to Hell, where it remains for all eternity. In short, the toxin tarnishes the soul, damns it while it’s still in the body.”
“What does it do if the poison’s administered after the person’s dead?”
He turned back to the closed-off hospital room. “No one knows. It’s never been an issue before. Looks like he’s sick.”
“And unconscious,” Cas pointed out. “But he’s not going back.”
“Back where?” God asked.
“Hell. You’re not sending him back.” That got a roar of approval from the crowd that had gathered in the waiting room. “I won’t let you.”
“I won’t. He doesn’t deserve that. But we have to keep him there, keep him quarantined. Evil like that, it spreads. Among humans, among angels. He’s a threat to the whole place.”
“You’re gonna leave him in there alone?”
He turned to look at the family. “Who’s gonna go in there with him?”
“I am.” Castiel turned on his heel and walked into the room.
Everything was burning. Hot, scorching pain radiating from his head to his toes, engulfing his thoughts. It hurt him to be there. Hurt him physically in a way that nothing had hurt him in years.
He was aware of fingers carding through his hair, nonsense words being spoken. Aware of bright eyes and soft lips. A constant presence at his side.
He didn’t deserve it. He was burning for a reason, was in pain because he wasn’t supposed to be there. Because he’d failed yet again.
One job. Stop the Devil. He hadn’t even been able to do that. Had just fucked it up and the bastard had found him. Had his lackeys rip him apart, and followed him to Heaven. The one place Dean didn’t deserve to ever see.
He wasn’t sure why he was still there. Why they didn’t just toss him back into the fire. At least the burning would make sense there. At least he deserved that.
He still couldn’t believe he’d been fooled. That he’d fooled himself. Let himself think he was worthy of it. Of everything. The house and the family and the kid. Oh, the kid. If he’d messed her up, he would never forgive himself. If she had to follow him…
He tried to tell whoever it was. Tried to make one last request. Save Abby. Save his baby. Save his girl.
He burnt.
“He’s not sick.”
“Of course he’s sick,” Sam argued, looking at his mother like she’d grown an extra head and it had just said the stupidest thing possible. Which, you know, halfway right, at least.
“Not Dean,” she whispered. She pointed through the thick glass at the two figures contained in the room. A sick, pale man in a hospital bed, and his constant companion. “Cas hasn’t left his side in two weeks, right?”
Sam nodded. “About, yeah. Why?”
“He’s not sick.”
Jimmy joined them at the glass. “You’re right. He looks fine.”
More people crowded around, all staring into the little room. “That’s impossible, though, isn’t it?” Jess asked. “I mean, God said-”
“God said evil spreads. It corrupts,” Jimmy offered. “But I think He was wrong.”
The deity in question raised His eyebrows. “Really?”
“No offense, Sir, but evil corrupts humans,” he nodded toward the two figures in the room, “not angels.”
“Explain Lucifer.”
“Pride.”
“Azazel.”
“Lust. They Fell for sins, not for the sake of evil. That’s a human trait. People go out and mindlessly murder others for the thrill. Angels murder on command, not for pleasure. And that’s all evil really is, isn’t it? Getting what you want, when you want, consequences be damned.”
God stepped to the window and gazed in at the two men. “I think you may be on to something, there. There’s only one way to test it, though.”
“And what’s that, Sir?”
God smiled.
“You’re not taking him!” Light flared to life in the room, so sudden it was temporarily blinding.
He had to admire His boy’s spunk, the spark of life and independence Dean had placed and carefully cultivated within the angel. But for the guy to actually consider standing up to his Father on this one? It was unexpected, to say the least.
“I’ll go in and get him out.”
He cocked His head, looking His boy over. Beautiful craftsmanship, if He did say so Himself. Elegance and grace and a dangerous thrum of power. “You won’t get back unless I let you in.”
Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Then I won’t be coming back.”
“You’d banish yourself to Hell for him?”
“I’ve disobeyed for him before.”
“The orders were unjust.”
“As is banishing the man who won Your War to Hell for trying to save Your granddaughter.”
He smiled. “Stand down, son. We think we’ve found a cure.”
Castiel blinked off instantly, the light fading, receding back into the human form he’d chosen for Dean. “You do?”
“If not, you and I are both screwed.” He looked past His wayward boy to the tarnished soul lying in the bed. “You’ve gotta let me see him.”
The angel nodded and stepped aside, eyes tracking his Father across the room and to the bed. He watched as the deity laid His hands on Dean’s chest and let His eyes slide shut.
The room was once again filled with a blinding light, and when Castiel opened his eyes, he found the bed empty. He turned on his Father, anger bubbling through his being, melting away the human shell he usually only shed for the man that had just been returned to Hell. “You sent him back,” he growled, voice shaking the windows in their frames.
God offered up a small smile and spread His hands out in a show of innocence. “Did I?”
He stepped to the side, revealing another angel. The being looked confused, staring down at its hands and flexing its fingers, before running them over its ruffled head and turning to him. Eyes that should have been amber glowed pine, and Castiel recognized it.
“Dean.”
Dean blinked. “What happened?”
“You got sick,” God said. “Not your fault. Fixed you. You’re welcome.”
Dean turned back to the nearest window and pulled up the blinds, staring into his own reflection. “What did you do to me?”
“It was the only way, son.”
“You… I’m human.”
“Not any more, you’re not.”
The new angel turned on Him, glaring. “No. Change me back.”
“It’s permanent. But if it’s any consolation, I am starting to regret it.”
Dean backed himself up against the window, fingers curling around the frame, body shaking, and Castiel understood. Angels were mindless, emotionless robots who aimed to please and only did as they were told. Any show of emotion, of humanity, was seen as a disobedience and punished harshly. Punished with torture or banishment. Punished with Hell.
But things had changed. He’d told Dean, considered himself proof of it.
He sighed, shrinking himself back into Jimmy Novak’s form, and stepped forward, arms held out. “Dean. It’s ok.”
“It’s not ok.”
“Things are different. The War’s over, and you have a choice. You always have a choice.”
“He’s right, son,” God added. “You didn’t choose this. You’re free to live your life however you want. Cas, too. You’re as human as you were before.”
Dean stared at them, eyes flicking between the two men who weren’t. “Why should I trust you?”
“Because I love you.”
“Because I said so.”
The hunter grinned and closed his eyes, the light in the room slowly fading as it was shaped into something familiar and strong. Something human.
“So,” Dean grinned. “This whole smiting thing…?”
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