Word Count: 2,009
Genre: SLASH!! (yes, you read that right)
Pairing: DEAN/CASTIEL (I know, eh? wtf?)
Disclaimer: Transformative work for entertainment only.
Summary: Prompt - Dean talks to a priest about what happened with the apocalypse and about hell. It would be perfect if the priest in question is one of those hard line anti-gay guys who's always talking about hellfire and damnation. And then Dean scares the shit out of him by talking about what hell is really like. Castiel being in the fic would be awesome. It doesn't matter if it's gen or Dean/Castiel, just no wincest.
A/N: This is a promptfic written for the lovely liliaeth on the occasion of her birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! As most of you know, I find Dean/Castiel even less believable than Wincest and I don't like it at all....nevertheless, using that angle for this prompt was too good to pass up! I never write slash, so please be forgiving.
Dean heard about it on the news. He’d only been watching to see what excuse the authorities had come up with for the recent deaths – Dean had already taken care of the real cause, of course, but he was always interested in the explanations civilians came up with. Dean had left the station on in the background while he cleaned his guns, and wasn’t really paying that much attention until this piece about some teen getting kicked out of some community event, or team, because he was gay, and the news corresponded was interviewing some local “community leader” who happened to be a priest.
Dean carefully laid the gun he was holding down, just in case he felt inclined to shoot the TV, and listened as this supposed “community leader” and “man of God” went on and on about the “abhorrent unnatural act of homosexuality”; how this poor kid was going to burn in hell if he didn’t repent and seek forgiveness from the church; and how as long as this kid insisted on following his “deviant lifestyle”, he should be kept away from children and other teens so that he didn’t spread his “filth.”
The television station must be run by goddamn homophobes too, Dean thought, because they don’t even interview the kid. They just show reporter yelling at him as he tries to get into his school – and they aren’t exactly yelling their support. Even Dean can see how horribly hurt the poor kid is. Dean admits to being a lot of things, but a poor judge of character isn’t usually one of them – and the kid basically exudes goodness, even when he looks like he wants to take a long walk off a short pier.
So, yeah, maybe Dean writes down the name of the bigoted priest and does a little research, and forms a little plan – because if the priest is going to go about sentencing good people to Hell, maybe he should know exactly what he’s condemning them too...cause it sure as hell ain’t that gay kid that needs to repent for his sins.
The church is one of those fancy ones. Where you can tell the donations are good, and they’re sure as hell not all going to the poor. Dean can see the video-camera and sound setup in the centre of the congregation, and that’s when he realizes this is one of those televised churches – where people can tune in on some Christian television network and listen to this bastard talk about good people like they’re freaks and monsters – but Dean knows the real monsters.
It’s relatively easy to get the priest alone by the altar in the empty Church. Dean had been worried there would have been more handlers - some entourage for the hateful. Dean’s got charm to his advantage though, and he quickly puts the guy at ease with false compliments and lies, and eventually they’re sitting in the first pew by the altar, and Dean’s telling him a story...a true story.
Dean starts off by saying how much he agrees, that family values are important. He talks about his Dad’s service record in the marines, how after his mother was killed, his Dad raised Dean and his brother to always put family first – that above everything else in the world, your family was the most important.
The priest is on the frickin’ hook now – nodding along, agreeing. Dean can see the cogs turning in his head, already composing ways he can use Dean’s story in his sermons – but Dean knows this story isn’t going to end up where the guy wants it to. Dean carefully explains that he cared about his family so much that after his Dad died, Dean had sold his soul to save his brother – the only family he had left. He admits that he knew selling your soul to a demon wasn’t a good decision. He knew he was going to hell just for doing it, nevermind that it going to hell was in the contract. He can tell the priest is getting confused now, but he’s fundamentalist enough to believe in Hell, believe in Satan and demons. Maybe he just imagines Dean praying to Satan, not kissing actual tangible demons at crossroads, but that’s not the important part of the story.
The important part of the story is what Hell is like. Dean stresses this, tells the guy that he should know what kind of people end up down there, what it’s like. Dean tells him about the torture first. The way they cut into him, taunted him, ripped him apart every day – only to repeat it the next day again. He tells him how time is different, slower and faster at the same time. Tells him how he survived forty years, but it was actually only four months. Then he tells him about how he took over as torturer – how good it felt, how that’s how they get you – nice and slow – not only tearing away your flesh but tearing away your humanity.
Dean doesn’t take pleasure in the way the priest pales, goes green around the edges at Dean’s descriptions – or at least tries not to. It’s not like it’s particularly easier to talk about now or anything. Dean’s gut still churns at the memories – he still sees flashes of blood, hears the screams in his memories.
“How...” the priest asks, and Dean knows he could be asking how it’s possible. How Dean expects him to possibly believe this, but Dean knows what he wants the priest to ask.
“How’d I get out?” Dean finishes with a smirk. “God commanded it.”
The priest’s eyes go wide.
“I know - why would God want to save me, after what I did down there?” Dean asks on the priest’s behalf. “Well that’s complicated, but he not only saved me – he sent me an angel.”
“An angel?” The priest says, jaw dropping.
“Yeah, hold on...” Dean pulls out his phone then, and presses the send button on the message he has waiting for this moment.
One of the spotlights they still have on for TV glares brightly for a moment, before burning itself out, as Castiel appears at the altar accompanied by that distinct sound of wings. Dean can’t help the grin that he can feel light up his face, and he sees the corner of Castiel’s mouth lift – which for the angel, is the equivalent of a goofy smile.
“Who? How did?” The priest asks, staring at Castiel in disbelief.
“Introduce yourself,” Dean winks at Castiel, and hooks his thumbs together and subtly flutters his hands like the wings of a butterfly. He can practically see Castiel roll his eyes, even though the angel remains outwardly stoic.
“Very well,” Castiel said, as he turns to the priest.
“My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord” Castiel says in his deep resonating voice, and then a second spotlight flares as Castiel unfurls his wings behind him – their image falling in shadow on the expensive silk banners and carved cross behind the altar.
“Lord in heaven,” the priest gasps, and falls from the pew onto his knees, crossing himself.
Dean ignores him, and rolls onto his feet, choosing instead to saunter over to Castiel and give him a proper greeting.
“Hey there,” Dean says, “I missed you these past few days.”
He can see the affection in Castiel’s eyes, as they meet in the middle and share a long gentle kiss hello. Dean’s sure to run his hand gently across Castiel’s shoulder blades, just to feel him shudder – vessel or not, the wings are still there somewhere.
“You’re a faggot?!” Dean hears from behind him, and he can’t help the anger that courses through him. His hand stills on Castiel’s back, as Castiel breaks their kiss and turns to look at the priest.
“I am an Angel of the Lord” Castiel repeats slowly.
“And you let a faggot kiss you?” The priest is disgusted, Dean doesn’t have to look at him to know – he can hear it in his voice. Instead, Dean looks at Castiel and raises an eyebrow – you see what I’m dealing with?
The smile Castiel gives him is affectionate – and dirty.
“Oh, I let him do far more than that,” Castiel says. Then Castiel turns a stern look at the priest and in a particularly commanding voice continues, “and I do not appreciate you calling my boyfriend names.”
Dean looks at the priest then, and sees that he at least has the brains to look afraid.
“I was just explaining to the Padre here about what Hell’s like” Dean said, “since he seems to think this gay kid is going to end up there – hmm, James Harrison, I think is name is.”
“James Harrison is not currently going to Hell,” Castiel reports, eyes staring into the mid-distance for a moment, as though his vision has turned inward. “He is devout and loved by the Lord.”
“But God hates faggots!” The priest exclaims, and the disgust in his voice is still there.
“My Father favours all those who spread love, and frowns upon all those who spread hatred,” Castiel intones, “My Father does not care who sleeps with whom, so long as they are loving and good to each other.”
“But-” The priest starts to say again, and Dean sighs – wondering why he even tries.
“You speak in my Father’s name,” Castiel interrupts, staring unblinking at the priest while he puts a gentle hand on the nape of Dean’s neck, running his fingers through the short hairs there soothingly, “but you do not actually spread His word. If I were you, I would be more worried about the state of your own soul, rather than James Harrison’s. Dean did describe Hell for you, did he not?”
Dean leans into Castiel’s touch and tries not to smile as the colour drains from the priest’s face.
“Now, if we are done here,” Castiel looks at Dean. Dean nods, and Castiel turns back to the priest. “I have been serving my Father for the past few days, and I have missed Dean greatly. There are many things I would rather be doing than discussing damned souls.”
“See ya, Padre” Dean says, just before Castiel closes the distance between them to kiss Dean.
The kiss is wonderful, and Dean doesn’t even feel the shift until Castiel pushes him backwards and he finds himself landing on the bed in his motel room.
“You must stop using me to scare wayward priests,” Castiel sighs. “You know we aren’t supposed to meddle so much.”
“So I’m just supposed to let the bastard make that poor kid feel bad about himself?! Let him put that poor kid through hell?” Dean protests angrily from his prone position. “If helping gets you in trouble with your Dad or something, then you tell Him that I’ll come up there and give Him a piece of my mind too.”
Castiel shrugs off his trench coat, loosens his tie, and sighs dramatically, before crawling onto the bed and holding himself over Dean.
“You know I don’t like it when you fight with my Father,” Castiel says.
“Yeah, well, you know I don’t like homophobic douchebag priests,” Dean counters.
“Mmm,” Castiel agrees, nuzzling the hair above Dean’s ear, “you know what I do like?”
Dean fists his hands into Cas’s shirt and hooks a leg over him, and a second later their positions are reversed, and Dean is grinning down at Cas.
“Yeah, I do” Dean smirks.
They accidentally blow out the power in most of the city - it’s all over the news the next day. Also on the news is a certain priest holding a press conference. He announces that he was mistaken, that God loves all his children, including the gay kids, and then he asks forgiveness for his own sins and tearfully exclaims that he doesn’t want to go to Hell.
Dean only smiles, and runs his hand across Castiel’s naked back to feel him shiver and moan.