The Mark on Us ( A Destiel Fanfic)

Farewell My Almost Lover

"Quasi fluvius profecto ad mare

Imago ita abscedit..."

The words spewed out of the monster wearing Gabriels face in a rhythmic chant, seeming more soothing than Dean would have thought. They mingled together in front of him and floating off into the moons light, appearing as if he could reach out and grab them if he wanted to, yet he dared not, afraid he would disrupt the ritual. The aching pain that he had felt a few moments prior was slowly fading away into his body like a distant memory and he actually felt, somewhat, himself again. It was a sensation he thought he would never feel unless he was holding the First Blade, slaughtering everyone in his wake. He smiled, a sincere almost nonchalant one that brought tears to his eyes just pondering about the matter.

"Quaedam enim sunt quae intelliguntur esse

tollamque manum meam, et totam vitam meam.."

The pain was completely gone now and he stared down at his arm in disbelief, wondering how such intense pain such as that could dissappear with mention of few words. Yet when he scanned his eyes to the place where he thought the Mark had been, it had vanished, leaving only a small pink patch. It was as if the Mark claimed its territory just in case it decided to climb back on and ride him for a couple more kills. He doubt it would ever come to that though, he thought, his legs giving out underneath him as they became weaker. He threw his arms out in front of him to catch his fall, taking in air like it was his first time breathing. Even then his arms couldn't hold him up for more than a few seconds before he tumbled to the ground, laying on his back and admiring the night. The very last thing he is able to see before the darkness fully overtakes him. But this darkness at least wouldn't involve any killing or suffering or pain. This darkness was free and silent. And Dean couldn't wait any longer for it to carry him away until he could finally close his eyes for the very last time in his life.

"Non possum quin tibi enim quod in.."

"STOP!" A booming voice was heard echoing throughout the barn walls in an all too familar fashion Dean knew like the back of his hand. A voice he never thought he would hear again, yet at the same time, he was glad that he would get to see those blue eyes before Deaths' cold hands took him to whatever other hell hole he could find. Whatever hell hole he deserved. At this point he would be grateful for Hell to let him back in, but at this point Purgatory seemed to be the best option for him.

The man looked up at him and shook his head, grabbing for the book in a frenzy and securing it in his arms. The ritual came to a halt and the pain returned, as did the Mark, popping back onto his skin like it never left, leaving a burning sensation coursing up to his shoulder. The Mark was picking up where it started and Dean knew he wouldn't have enough time before he would regain his strength and revert to his uncontrollable self. Something he thought he never would have to show in front of Cas. He groaned in pain, grabbing his arm and staying on the ground, trying to trick himself into thinking he was weak and not strong in the slightest. He could barely move his arms, let alone his legs sprawled out on the dirt of the barn.

"You need to cease this at once or I will be forced to use my angel grace on you."

"Castiel. I know you don't trust me and you won't take my words to heart but you need to listen. This ritual is going to help him in ways that you and Sam Winchester can not even think about doing. If you really feel for this man then you have to let me finish or he will just get worse."

"You are not helping him in the slightest! You are killing him!"

"Cas...I think that's the whole point of this."

"Dean.." He whispered, rushing to his side and putting his head on his lap in an attempt to at least try to make him comfortable. Whatever was happening to him, it wasn't easing his pain and Cas could tell just by merely glancing at him. His eyebrows were strewned together, the bags underneath his eyes seeming more prominent than they usually were. Even his green eyes that once shown brighter than any star in the heavenly night were beginning to dull, fading to the color of grass and dirt. He was dying and Cas could tell without Dean ever having to say one word to him.