Hello my dears! I'm sorry for the delay but I was really busy with another projects as well. Enjoy this chapter and leave some comments if you feel like!
Thank you to @100yearsofsolipsism for editing the script!
If you want to read the previous chapters, follow these links:
Well, shit. It’s clear that Holy Dark will definitely be my next project. It was supposed to be Strange Bedfellows but I’m distracted by Castiel saving Dean via angel sex. so . . . that’s a thing.
Oops I writed.
Castiel’s heart clenched at the jet black of Dean’s eyes. His grace keened, filling his own, nearly white-hot. Through his own powers, he could nearly see their light splashed on Dean’s blood-soaked chest. Gleaming against offal that threatened the man’s sanity.
It is not too late. I have not lost you yet. “Dean,” he breathed. From the corner of his eye, he could see that vile mark, bright as blood, singing in tandem with Dean’s rapid heartbeat under his crimson-streaked fingers.
You will not take him, he stated. Impulse drove him then. He fed his grace into every inch of skin that touched Dean’s. Pushed his power against the bond of Hell, clawing at it like a wildcat. This man did not deserve such punishment. His choices were driven by love and loyalty. A thing to be honored. He would not let Dean be destroyed by the very kindness that simmered so sweetly in man’s injured soul.
I will not lose you. He leaned in, a twitch of hesitation, before he kissed Dean’s jaw with feather-light touches. Tasting iron, sweat, skin and Dean as he moved. Dean’s heart began to slow; still rapid but nowhere near the timpani from before. He shifted again, lips brushing Dean’s cheekbones and forehead. He whispered Enochian that would bow the greatest of religious acolytes. Rained his grace upon a man so lost, he thought only his end would protect him.
You deserve to be saved. Tears spilled from his eyes, each drop a hiss of pain on Dean’s fevered skin. He swallowed and shifted to lay a single kiss to the tip of Dean’s nose, meeting those darkened depths again.
A gem of green broke through, rays of warmth that drove the darkness back. Under him, Dean screamed, writhing violently, as the last of that prison shattered. The Mark flared, anger in its energies as it shriveled on Dean’s arm. Fell away like ash, leaving skin whole and unmarred.
Drawing in great draughts of air, Dean stared up blindly. His lashes fluttered as his eyes refocused, meeting Castiel’s. “Cas,” he rasped, confusion crystal clear in the single word. He raised a shaking hand, touching his brow, fingers curved as though to claw his eyes free. “What? How did . .?”
Castiel smiled. “There you are,” he breathed. He slanted his mouth over Dean’s, tasting the sweetness of humanity, finally free from the poisonous grasp of Hell.
