(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

[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."