Title: Break My Wings
Category: Angst/humor with a slice of action. Why? Because it makes the perfect sandwich.
Pairing: Slow developing Dean/Castiel - Destiel
Summary: Set in season 7. It's been six months since the leviathans escaped from Purgatory. Cas is assumed dead, and the brothers have yet to kill a single one of the immortal creatures. Meanwhile, God is sick and tired of the disloyalty in heaven, thus he needs someone to restore order. How does He intend to fix it? By giving a pissed off Winchester a new pair of wings of course.
Warning: Slash, violence, character deaths/revival, language
A/N: I'd just like to inform my future readers that even if this will end with Destiel I fully intend to keep the two men... well, men. All fluff will be handled in a very manly and as in character way as possible. My deepest apologies to fluff-lovers. When the time comes it will be hardcore smut with a bit of angst on the side. Oh... and a plot. Of course. A very satisfying plot.
Chapter one - Cause' fucking up takes practice
Rain shot down like handmade bullets from heaven, showing no mercy as they viciously continued to soak a very pissed off Winchester to the bone. The trademark leather jacket the hunter stubbornly refused to get rid off offered little to no warmth, and his worn-out jeans clung uncomfortably to his skin.
"Awesome…," Dean mumbled ironically as bitterness washed over him, his sense of humour apparently lacking this evening. Nevertheless, the ever so patient hunter persevered the slightly uncomfortable and wet position, leaning against the hood of what seemed to be the only constant object in his life these days; the Impala.
The infamous vehicle had conveniently been parked on top of a hillside just above an old warehouse. Because of course, every hunter knew that it always had to be an abandoned, old warehouse. Some screwed up demon tradition or something, Dean was sure of it.
A deep rumble of distant thunder was heard, and if Dean hadn't known any better he would've cursed out God for doing everything in His power to make this night hell for him. But then again, Dean did know better, and this, like everything else that had fucked him over in his quite possibly overdue life, was not the doing of a non-existing cowardly God of fucking corrupt Heaven.
Gazing up at the autumn sky with resentment in his eyes Dean inhaled the cold air surrounding him, calming him to a certain extent. He considered giving the man upstairs a one-fingered salute, but decided against it. After all, it was such a lovely evening for a suicide mission, one couldn't just ruin such a joy-filled mood with childish thoughts of vengeance, right?
Dean's train of thoughts were interrupted by a slight vibration coming from the right side of his jeans. The hunter hesitantly pulled out a cell from his pocket, flipping it open with a tired sigh. Better to just get it over with he supposed.
"What do you want, Bobby?" Dean answered, voice laced with mild annoyance. He already knew what the older man was going to say. He had been expecting this phone call for hours, after all.
"Are you trying to kill yourself, boy?" The word "again" remained unspoken. There was nothing close to approval evident in the other man's tone and Dean immediately regretted picking up the phone.
"Nah, I'm not quite there yet, but thanks for your concern," the younger man replied with feigned cheerfulness.
"You know what I mea-"
Dean gave a short groan, not mentally prepared for a lecture. "Bobby listen… we've talked about this-"
"No you talked about it. You can't just leave me a note and take off all by yourself. Now tell me where you are. I'm not letting you fight something God himself didn't want roaming the earth!"
Dean gave a light chuckle in response, "You know, they're basically just giant fish if you were to trust the holy bible-"
"You think this is funny?" The older hunter spat, his voice holding a promise of pain if Dean didn't give him a location within the next five seconds.
Dean inhaled a deep breath. No, this was anything but funny, and yet he felt like laughing like a madman. Probably not a good sign, but then again, since when had sanity been a part of his life? Hell, this was almost normal.
"Look, I can't just wait until we've found an efficient enough way to kill these assholes. They have Sam, and I for mine would rather have my brother back with all organs intact."
"You friggin' moron, one would have thought you'd learned your lesson by now, kid. It's a darn trap and you're just gonna-"
"Don't you think I know that?" Dean retorted, cutting him off a second time. The words came out hoarse and tired. Because if it was anything Dean Winchester was it was just that, tired.
He then continued, tired of stating the obvious, "I'm not stupid. These purgatory bitches are smarter than, hell, any monster we've ever tried to take on, and you know what? There's nothing we can do about. Nothin'. It's not in any book, because God has it with leaving out instructions on how to deactivate His toys. I don't intend to fight them Bobby, but I'm sure as hell not just gonna sit on my ass while they chew on Sammy's limbs."
"You're not even a hundred percent sure if they have him! Are you dumb enough to risk your life over something that'll end up gettin' you killed for nothin'?"
There was a slight pause as Dean seemed to consider the harsh words. Well, it wouldn't be the first time. "Then tell me, Bobby. Where else would he be? I haven't heard from my brother in three days. Three frigging days! So, unless he's found himself another demon whore to jump for half a week I'm not buying the 'he'll probably show up eventually' crap. So thanks again for checking up on me, but I'm doing this."
"… Then at least let me help you," the voice on the other line pleaded reluctantly, knowing the other man wasn't about to change his mentally challenged mind anytime soon.
"I'm sorry… I really am."
"Dean, don't you han-"
The call ended as Dean flipped the phone shut, returning it to its rightful place. If he by some miracle survived this, Bobby would definitely shoot him.
Oh, if only Mary Winchester had been around to see what had become of her oldest son she would quite possibly have shot him too. Secrets, withholding information, lying. Any normal person with a conscience would've felt at least a tiny sting of regret at doing any of the above. Dean, however, was finding it surprisingly easy these days. The fact that he'd stopped caring didn't freak him out anymore and hadn't done so in quite a while. The hunter had been betrayed far too many times by the people he loved, people he considered family, to even feel remotely guilty for taking matters into his own hands. And why the hell shouldn't he? Bobby didn't need to suffer due to a big brother's unhealthy, overprotective attitude towards Lucifer's destined condom. That, was Dean's job.
It was an unwritten rule; befriend the vessels of heaven and hell and your life will end in the most horrible manner possible. If you are extra lucky, some higher power might bring you back to life only to stab you in the back and return your ass straight back to Hades. Or heaven. If there even was a difference between the two anymore.
Several minutes past accompanied by a silence heavier than Dean had ever experienced on his own. It felt as if the entire world was on hold, just waiting for him to do something… anything, that would start another chain-reaction which would eventually lead to the end of the world. Again. Hell, why not just let out another few million leviathans for good measure?
After all, fucking up this much took practice and after all this time Dean already knew that it was an act impossible to avoid if your last name rhymed with… well, whatever the hell rhymed with Winchester.
Realizing that time was probably crucial Dean pushed himself off of the hood only to circle the car and pop up the trunk in one fluid motion. It didn't matter what weapon he chose to take with him, there was no killing these things either way. So the hunter did what he thought seemed like the most logical choice and grabbed the biggest shotgun he could find, knowing it would do the most damage. That way, If he didn't make it, at lest he'd get to see a few ugly heads blow up before he called it a night.
There was only one game-plan and it involved finding Sammy, avoid God's runaway pets and get the hell away from Texas. Sure, it wasn't his best, but Dean was not about to willingly fight immortal sea-monsters. That would indeed make him a "friggin' idjit" if he was to quote his overprotective foster daddy.
Dean was about to shut the lid as his eyes wandered by their own accord, lingering on a piece of clothing laying peacefully at the far back of the trunk, forgotten to anyone but him. The hunter snorted, looking blankly at the fabric that shouldn't be in his possession in the first place. Seriously, why hadn't he thrown it out already? It wasn't like its owner would suddenly pop back and claim it.
Dean swallowed with slight difficulty, averting his gaze away from the trenchcoat. Great. Just what he needed. A reminder of why he was in this messed up situation in the first place. Dean smiled emptily at nothing in particular as the familiar feeling of betrayal swept through his entire being, threatening to swallow him whole. The hunter shut the trunk with a bit more force than necessary.
"Well screw you too…" Dean whispered hoarsely into the rain, resisting the urge to give into the mental breakdown he knew was coming sooner or later. But no, not yet. He had other things to worry about.
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, stifling a groan as he tried to push all irrational thoughts to the back of his mind. He hadn't been able to catch a break for half a year and today was no different. Perhaps, when this messed up situation was over, granted there was an end to this, when the world once again was safe-… well safer… maybe then he'd let himself have a tiny moment to reflect and feel again. To grieve, or whatever it was he needed to do to get rid of the immense pressure that had taken up residence in his chest. To curse out a friend for betraying his trust. For leaving him to clean up his mess. Indeed, fuck him and every other winged, disloyal bastard in the universe that had cost him his happiness. That had cost countless of people their very lives.
The hunter let out a frustrated sigh as he ran tired fingers through soaked strands, taking yet another swig from the bottle he'd held onto like a lifeline from the moment he'd stepped out of the car. Thinking was annoyingly tiring. Hazy eyes, looking almost emerald under the influence of the darkened sky, gazed towards the building he soon would be storming. Sammy was in there somewhere. He had to be. Along with a few dicks from Purgatory, explaining the alcohol he was currently downing like a dying man. Which, in all honesty, was a pretty probable scenario at the end of the night.
It had been six months since those evil sons of bitches had escaped from Purgatory. Six months, and they had yet to kill a single one of the ancient monsters. Six months… since everything had gone straight to hell.
Dean braced himself as he started to move towards the warehouse, knowing he probably had a snowball's chance at surviving this.
"Sammy? Sam! Where the hell are you!" Dean felt, as well as heard, the desperation slowly creeping into his voice. Tired legs carried him as fast as he could muster while his steps kept echoing loudly through the corridor. Anyone who wasn't hearing-impaired would probably hear him coming from miles away, but he didn't care. He had already messed up.
Dean had been forced to abort the 'sneak-in-grab-stupid-little-brother-only-to-sneak-out-quietly' mission as he'd been noticed after the first five minutes. They were fast. Maybe too fast. The shotgun hadn't helped as much as he'd hoped either as it only served to give him an extra ten seconds before the bastards regenerated and were up and running once again.
"Damn it!" Dean hissed as he'd been dangerously close to tripping over his own feet. He was sure the embarrassment would've killed him long before the monster-giant-freaks behind him got the chance to, but he was still set on dying with a bit of dignity left. Just a bit though, he was no optimist.
It felt as if he'd been running for hours. Seriously, the warehouse did not look this huge from the outside. What was this? An empty IKEA?
Finally a door came into view and Dean did not hesitate tearing the piece of wood open. "Oh you've got to be kidding me?" It was the same freaking hallway only mirrored! No doors. No Sammy. No escape.
Was he running in circles? Dean felt a lump start to form in his throat. He couldn't keep this up for much longer. He was slowly, but surely running out of breath and where the fuck was his goddamn brother? He was gonna kick his ass into the next century as soon as he found him, and if he by some miracle had managed to get himself eaten he would make the afterlife hell, in every sense of the word, for little Sammy.
Dean jerked his head around as he heard approaching footsteps and immediately picked up the pace. Like hell he was gonna fight immortality with a shotgun. Nuh-uh. Not today.
"Going somewhere?" A man dressed in a bloodstained, dirty lab coat appeared out of nowhere before Dean, almost resulting in the hunter crashing head first into the creature's chest.
"How the hell did you-" Dean never had the chance to finish his sentence as the monster's hand gripped around his throat, slamming him into the wall with ease.
Dean felt the air leave his lungs as his back connected with the hard surface, surely cracking more than just the wall.
"Gnh..," the hunter groaned, trying to blink away the blurriness from his vision. Didn't work.
"I'm getting tired of this game of tag. Your movements are getting sloppier, and the volume of your breathing is kind of getting on my nerves. You're too slow, Dean. Where's the fun in that?" The leviathan version of doctor Sexy mused, looking positively bored.
"You suggesting we should reverse our roles then?" Dean choked out, giving a cocky but nervous smile. This was getting dangerous. His throat felt unnaturally dry and Dean tried to slowly reach out his left hand to grab the only weapon he had before it was too late. Just a little further now.
"Your reaction to fear is rather… fascinating. The most entertaining meal I've encountered yet I must admit. Maybe I should keep you breathing for a few more minutes?" The creature studied his prey with mild amusement, watching him with insect-like movements that clearly portrayed him as the animal Dean knew it was.
The amusement however was short-lived as it was soon replaced with another bored, impatient expression. The grip he had on Dean's throat tightened, almost breaking the hunter's neck. "…but then again, I'm hungry now." The monster bellowed darkly.
Dean gasped as excruciating pain shot through his entire body, making whatever thoughts he had on blowing the monster to bits and pieces disappear as both of his hands went up and gripped the one that was currently trying to crush his neck. Dean had to admit, his chances of survival didn't look particularly good at the moment.
The shotgun fell unceremoniously and quite audibly to the ground, but Dean was too occupied with the whole concept of breathing to notice such an unimportant occurrence. The predator kicked the weapon carelessly to the side, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. "Naughty. I think I'm going to enjoy tonight's meal even more than usual." The creature grinned grimly, staring directly into said meal's raging gaze.
"Where the h-hell," Dean rasped painfully, "is m-my brother?" Trembling fingers tried desperately to loosen the hold the predator had on his delicate throat, but the leviathan didn't even seem to notice the blood covered nails digging into it's arm.
"Oh, I don't know Dean. Shouldn't you know that?" The self-proclaimed doctor chuckled darkly as he watched Dean's eyes widen in a mixture of confusion and anger. It was toying with him, It had to be. Sam had to be here. He wouldn't do this to him.
"Dean. Dean. Dean… will you ever learn?" Dean had no idea if the words came from the thing currently trying to choke him to death, or If it was simply a sentence repeating itself in his head. He could no longer make out his surroundings as staying conscious was suddenly becoming an impossible task. Damn it.
'No… no, no, no! This can't be happening. Not yet. Not until I find Sammy.' All sorts of ugly thoughts burst into the forefront of Dean's mind as he fought to remain conscious. Would he honestly die by the hands, or mouth, of this flesh-eating… assbutt? Dean made a mental frown at the odd choice of word but blamed it on the obvious lack of air that was making his mind remember lame insults.
Dean could feel his lungs scream for oxygen as his attempted breathing became dangerously shallow, weaker by each second. There was no use. He couldn't fight himself out of this one.
In the end Dean's arms went completely limp as darkness washed over him, rendering his whole body in a state of unconsciousness. 'Just fucking fantastic.'
There was nothing gentle about the way Dean regained consciousness, and the hunter could only assume that he was still alive judging from the fact that his entire body hurt like hell. Either that, or he was in hell. Hard to say which of the two he actually preferred.
Blinding pain rippled through his arm as he felt teeth sink into his limb, breaking skin and causing his whole body to jerk violently. A heartfelt scream was heard, apparently coming from his own throat, but Dean was in no shape to register such an irrelevant fact.
"Oh dear, he's awake boys."
Dean's eyes shot open, and he found himself staring directly into the demonic eyes of the 'man' who'd had his hands around the hunter's throat only moments before. Not a sight he'd wanted to wake up to.
Green eyes darted in the direction of his left arm, the source of his agony. To say that the sight pissed the young hunter off would've been an understatement.
"Wait, what did you-… did you just bite me you fish-faced freak!"
"Sorry about that. I told him to wait until you were properly awake, but as you probably can tell, we're all a bit starved." The man above him stated calmly as he got to his feet, circling Dean like the poor pray he was.
Panting heavily, Dean tried his best to ignore the fact that a chunk of his flesh was missing and decided to take in as much of his surroundings as possible. Apparently, the sons of bitches had him pinned to the ground, iron chains keeping him in place as he lay spread eagled on a cold, concrete floor. From his position he could make out eight men and women, probably just as "human" as the man in front of him.
Dean gave a bitter snort, staring blankly up at the ceiling. "Why am I still alive?"
"Why are you-, oh that is a good question. You see, my brothers here are kind of pissed that you tried to… what's it called? Oh yeah, send us back home. And thus, as one of the seven princes of hell, I think we are entitled to a little payback, don't you?"
"Bite me," Dean spat, immediately regretting his poor choice of phrasing as the monster to his right chuckled, murmuring a quick 'love to' before another pair of teeth pierced through his skin, tearing it apart.
"Fuck," Dean hissed as the familiar scent of his own blood filled his nostrils. It was a sickening smell, and it took some serious willpower to not just throw up right then and there.
The hunter reluctantly stole a quick glance to check out the damage, and what he saw made his insides twist in ways he didn't think were possible. His entire arm was covered in crimson liquid that kept spilling out of two nasty flesh-wounds. But that was not what made the Winchester nauseous. Oh no. Pain he could handle. Pain he was used to. It was more due to the fact that a middle-aged man, at least a very ugly example of one, was currently chewing, devouring pieces of Dean's arm. Sure, Dean had experienced way worse during his stay in Hell, but it was just something incredibly gross about getting eaten alive.
"Don't worry, I'll make sure you won't die from blood loss until we're finished with you." The one in the lab coat assured. "We're gonna take things nice and slow so that you can get the most out of this… experience." The leviathan licked his lips delicately.
"I can only assume that you gave my brother the same treatment?" Dean growled through gritted teeth, but managed to somewhat keep up the cool front. If they'd laid a hand Sam…
The creature released a sigh, smiling slightly. "I told you Dean, I haven't seen your brother."
Dean's eyes narrowed with distrust. "You're lying."
"Why? Because that would mean that you didn't come all this way for nothing?"
Dean's pulse suddenly sped up. No way. "Shut up." The hunter spat. He could practically hear the voice of Bobby Singer saying 'Told ya' in the back of his head, but Dean refused to believe it. Sam would do no such thing.
"Did Sammy take off without telling his big brother where he went? Did he abandon you? Just like that. After everything you've done for him? Again. Some brother you have there. Dean," the doctor mocked, getting some kind of sick thrill out of watching realization sink into the human's eyes.
"I said SHUT UP!" shit, he was losing it. There was a small hint of relief in knowing that his brother was safe, but it was no comfort to the anger he was currently trying to control.
"Ow, come on Dean… don't give me such a harsh stare. I'm afraid I was mistaken before. There really is no fear in those hateful eyes of yours. Just pain. Empty meaningless pain. You're telling me you do not even fear death? I'm surprised." The monster paused in his steps as he kneeled next to the hunter's head, looking curiously down at the man.
"Why should I? It's getting old news." Dean retorted bitterly, his body jerking slightly.
"Indeed, why should you, nothing can harm you, right? Dean fucking Winchester is special. You've always been. Michael's sword. The chosen one. A true servant of heaven? Someone always bring you back," the monster stated, shortly followed by a low chuckle. "But Dean, that's all over isn't it? Did it ever occur to you that if I were to rip your heart out here and now you'd never see your family again? Who's going to save you now? You are no longer wanted, no longer needed. Not by heaven, not by hell. Not even your pathetic angel had any use for you in the end. You are not worth saving anymore. You will rot in hell like the filthy piece of meat you are. You're all alone Dean. All alone."
Silence filled the room as Dean found himself at a loss of words. He desperately wanted to tear the monster a knew face. Seconds dragged out into minutes and all Dean could do was trying to stare the creature to death, knowing it probably wouldn't be as effective as he'd hoped.
"I know." Dean finally answered with such a finality to it that it scared him, closing his eyes. Yes, Dean knew this truth all too well and in some sick, twisted way, he wanted it all to be over. Heaven or hell, this was hell. His hell. It just wasn't his responsibility anymore. He was sick and tired of cleaning up other people's messes. Why did everything always fall on him?
"You really are every bit of the broken man people say you are. So please, let me free you from your agony."
For the next hour Dean's mind went somewhere else, somewhere peaceful, as eight hungry animals tore at his every limb, ripped through his flesh, making him suffer in every possible way until the human was done screaming and his heart had stopped once again. Once and for all. It was finally over. Or so he thought.
It was dark, or at least Dean thought it was, there was no way to be sure. He couldn't feel his own body, couldn't open or close his eyes. It was as if he himself didn't exist. Now, the hunter knew more about dying than most people and this… this felt like neither heaven nor hell. Then, where the hell was he? Some kind of limbo? But that didn't make sense either, because he could clearly remember seeing a woman rip out his still beating heart before his very eyes, then everything had gone black, and here he was.
"Dean." A voice so powerful that Dean was sure it would've sent shivers down his spine, if he'd had a goddamn spine that was, spoke into the darkness. It was everywhere. Surrounding him. There was no doubt in his mind just who that voice belonged to.
Suddenly, the hunter found himself able to form a reply. How, he didn't know. "God, I presume?"
"I suppose you could use that name." The voice replied calmly, but just as powerful and just as overwhelming to his mental ears.
Dean suddenly felt like laughing. After all this time. Then his non-existing eyes hardened ,"What the hell do you want?"
A/N: So that's it for now, all mistakes are my own as I have yet to find a beta. Upcoming chapters will quite possibly be the same length as this one, please let me know if it's too short or too long.
Now go do what all authors crave. Starts with an r ends with eview.