Lionheart

Chapter Eighteen

Dean groaned. His arm was on fire, but the shield was somehow still intact. He rolled over and shoved at Castiel's shoulder.

'Get up,' he rasped, dropping the shield and pulling off his gauntlets. 'Come on, get up.'

Castiel wasn't moving, and a thrill shot through Dean's chest. He ripped off the King's helm one-handed, and lifted him up so he was sitting against Dean.

'Wake up,' Dean said, pressing a hand to Castiel's neck. He felt a crack in Castiel's skull and several broken ribs before he soothed them away and Castiel opened his eyes.

'Raphael,' he said immediately. 'Where is he?'

They looked up and he was still there, preparing for another strike, his hands crackling again. Without thinking, Dean scooped up the shield again, shoving it onto his injured arm and raising it just in time to catch the lightning. This time, however, Castiel had grabbed his good hand and Dean felt his soft, healing energy flow through him, right at the moment Raphael's electricity hit him. A scream tore past Dean's lips, the energy waging its own war inside him, until the lightning dissipated, and all that was left was Castiel's hand in his.

Raphael, frustrated, hit them again and again. The ground sizzled around them, the grass singeing and burning. Every time, Dean raised his shield, not caring how much it hurt. He refused to move, refused to give Raphael a clear path to his King. Eventually, Dean noticed a decrease in the ferocity of the lightning directed at them. It was barely perceptible, but it was there.

'I think - I think he's wearing out,' Dean gasped, in a break between attacks.

'So are we,' Castiel said grimly. His grip too had loosened ever so slightly.

'We can do this,' Dean said, shifting his stance and clutching Castiel's hand as tightly as he could, before once again lifting his shield.

The armies stood wordlessly around them, watching with awe and terror as time and time again, Dean and their King fought through focused shots of lightning. It should have been impossible, but there they knelt, surrounded by dead grass and air filled with static. And they too could see Raphael begin to tire. Soldiers on both sides held their breath, and all hoped that Castiel could hold on long enough to beat Raphael.

'Dean...' Castiel mumbled. Even with Dean pouring as much energy into him as he could, Castiel's power was beginning to falter.

'Just a little longer,' Dean shouted. 'He's almost done, I can feel it.' He raised his shield again. 'Just hold on, I've got you.' Raphael hit him again. He could barely feel his arm, or the shield in his hand, but he hefted it up anyway.

Finally, Raphael's last shot came. It was no stronger than a brief jolt that ended at Dean's shoulder, and when he looked up, Raphael's eyes were wide as he stared down at his hands. The power had at last abandoned him.

Dean was frozen for just a moment, waiting for the next shot. When he realised that it wasn't coming, he tossed aside his shield, snatched up his sword and sprinted towards Raphael. He raised his blade, preparing to strike Raphael down.

'STOP.'

Dean halted and glanced back at Castiel, his sword still raised above his head.

Castiel had pushed himself up to his knees and was breathing heavily. 'Think about it, Dean. He performed the ceremony with Era. What happens when he dies?'

Dean bit his lip, both fists clenched around the hilt of his sword.

'He must be held to trial,' Castiel said. 'He needs to answer for his crimes. No more hiding in the shadows.'