Destiel one shots

Because Dean Asked

The world hadn't seen an angel's wrath in a long time, not like this. Not since the Fall. Not since Sodom. Not since Heaven cracked the sky like thunder under a whip

But now—he burns. It began with a scream. Not his. A child's, a little girl, crying as men in stolen uniforms dragged her father away. 

Guns pointed. Words shouted. A family accused. A mistake. A lie. A trigger pulled and Castiel saw it.

He arrived in a heartbeat. Too late for the bullet. Not too late for judgment. The father fell and never woke up again.

The girl screamed and then—the sun vanished. The sky blackened—not with clouds, but wings. A reaper on the edge of the Veil dropped her scroll.

Because he came. Wings spread from horizon to horizon, dark as mourning cloth, veined with white-hot grace. His coat tore at the seams from the sheer pressure of it.

He didn't raise his voice, he didn't need to, "You hurt her", he said and the men froze, their rifles jammed in their hands, their bones trembled beneath their flesh.

Cas walked toward them—his boots not touching ground. Grass withered beneath him, the wind ran.

"You killed her father. You made her cry", he said, "You took a soul that didn't deserve to be taken", he said.

His eyes were not glowing, they were blinding, "You will answer", he roared and the sky answered with him.

Lightning fell—not jagged, not random. Purposeful. Divine. It did not strike the men dead. It left them broken.

Paralyzed. Marked. Unable to speak for the rest of their lives. Their names would never be remembered.

Castiel turned to the child and she stared up at him, not afraid, he knelt glowing with warmth now, his anger wasn't still over, it was simmering, yet he controlled himself for the girl.

Her sobs eased, she touched his face, he leaned into her fingers, "I'm sorry I wasn't faster," he whispered.

And the grass began to regrow, from the Veil, the reaper could barely breathe, she knew he could see her.

This was not the angel who saved souls quietly in parks. This was the angel who had stood against everything else for one man. This was the sword of the Lord.

And then— A voice behind her. The voice behind her, "Cas", the voice said and it was just a single word and not too loud even.

Dean.

The reaper turned. She hadn't even seen him arrive. But he was already walking toward Cas, determined, trembling.

"Cas", Dean said again, voice softer this time, "Hey", he said and the angel didn't move. The wind screamed around him.

Dean stepped closer, the air warped, not hurting him but embracing him, the reaper could see Cas relax slowly from the way his shoulders were dropping.

"Look at me," Dean said, "Look at me, Cas", he said again, not afraid the invisible wings trembled in the shadows.

The lightning paused, Cas turned and his eyes—full of holy fire, and grief, and pain—met Dean's and that was enough.

Because Dean didn't flinch. He walked up, and touched Castiel's arm, and said:

"You're not just fury. You're the reason flowers bloom. You're the reason that girl can smile again. Don't burn the world that still needs you", he said.

And Cas— Cas breathed in and the fire went out, just like that, the wings folded in, the sky cleared.

The men still wept, unable to speak, unable to understand why they still lived, Dean never looked at them.