(no subject)

[always_enduphere]

The chapel is small.  Built for mourners on the edge of the dead, its walls are clean and white, sturdy, meant for shelter.  Wood and brick, not meant to contain the darkness now held within them, twitching in the form of the body strapped prone to a hasty trap made of splintered pews.

It's quiet inside, removed enough from the city that the only sounds are rattling breaths from the body in chains, snatches of anxious voices and the occasional rumble of the floor, creaking and groaning from unseen onslaught, but holding.

There's an energy in the air, an electricity that raises hackles along with hairs, pouring from the ravaged body in an angry throb, but within the trap it can't do more than rattle walls, beneath the chains that smoke its skin, it can't do more than hiss curses on borrowed breath, and promise agonies yet to come.

In the center of the trap, the thing wearing Dean Winchester bares its teeth, blinking black towards any with stomach left to look at him.

Comments

[forthedog]

It's beautiful.

It's horrible, all of it. Horrible in a way that's singular and frozen and just goes on and on, locked into a single apocalyptic moment. He falls back and watches, groping for Neil again, dry-eyed and numb.

And then the light. Bursting. Beaming out like the heart of the universe, scattering itself through the air and delineated by dark wings. He watches, unaware of anything but the power being unleashed in front of him, face wet with the tears that wouldn't come until now.

And then that breath, and it's like he can breathe again with it.

He fumbles for his phone. Has no idea if he even has it, and it's taking so fucking long, and it might still be too late. But then suddenly it's in his hands and he's dialing.

He's not even sure what he says. He can't stop looking at Dean's chest as it rises and falls.

[likeaplanet]

Cas all but knocks me over to get to Dean, lifting him away from all of our groping hands like he weighs nothing. Fallen back onto my ass on the hard stone, all I can do is watch, holding my breath, only half aware of my hand curling around Mike's.

When the light comes, the sound with it, I don't think to cover my ears until it's almost too late, my face half turned away from the last bright pulse.

And then it's just quiet, my ears still ringing, but under that, I can hear the rattle of Dean's steady breath.

Letting out a strangled sob, I wipe a hand across my face, stopping myself just short of crawling over toward the two of them. I dunno what stops me. Maybe it's Cas's face, and the fact that I was just reminded how fuckin' scary he can be. The fact that I'm pretty sure Cas isn't gonna let anybody touch Dean right now, without his permission.

[jianhuo]

For a moment Saffron is frozen, but Mike gets to her phone before she can react, and when she can move again it's to rush over - not to Dean's side, though that's where she wants to be, but to Neil's, falling to the ground beside him and blindly reaching out for his hand.

She ignores the ringing in her ears, the light behind her eyes that's lingering after what Castiel did. She's never been the type to pray, but she's begging now, with all her might, for someone or something to make sure Dean is okay.

[theprodigalson]

Some deeply ingrained part of Sam wants to protest calling anyone, still clinging to the idea that ambulances and hospitals and simple doctor's appointments are an absolute last resort. But if there's ever been a last resort, this is it. Dean is dying, again, and Sam is powerless to stop it.

He's still crouched before his brother when Castiel swoops in, hands pressing, clutching and then-- then he's doing that angel thing again and Sam wants to watch, wants to take in the full force of this angelic creature. But the light is blinding and the sound is-- His hands fall from Dean to press at his ears, the vestiges of the blackened blood in his veins curdling.

It's over as quickly as it began, Sam's ears ringing as he blinks his eyes open again, the entire room eerily quiet.

But Dean's breathing.

It's pained and rattled but, fuck, Dean is breathing.

Fighting tears, Sam reaches out for Dean's hand, enveloping it both of his own and squeezing tight. "You're gonna be alright," he whispers. "Cas saved you, okay, Dean? You hear me. You're gonna be alright. You're gonna be just fine."

It still feels too early to be completely out of the woods, but Sam's had so little to hope for lately that he can't help clinging to this.

[godless_son]

It's all Castiel can do to roll over, hand coming up to rest over Dean's now beating heart, trying to sense what he was and was not able to fix. He presses his forehead to Dean's shoulder, noting the still broken arm, the blood loss and the general run down quality of his entire body.

"He's going to live," he rasps. "One of you carry him outside. I will fix this place when Dean is safe."