Supernatural Preferences and Imagines

Come Back- Destiel

The icy, grey sky rumbled above. Blackened clouds were being dragged down by thick sheets of rain. It poured down over the rotting city. The sound of emptiness was disrupted by the loud, obnoxious boom of thunder.

"Did you do that?" a voice asked.

"No," responded another.

There were two men walking down the abandoned street. Their clothes were drenched, hair plastered to their heads, and their footsteps splashed and echoed down the alleyways. They flicked on their flashlights, only to reveal more rain.

"There's nothing here, Cas, maybe we should check in with Sam-"

"No," Castiel interrupted. "Lucifer is here, Dean, I know it." A silver blade slipped from his trench coat sleeve. He passed the knife over to Dean. "This is an ordinary angel's blade, it won't be able to kill him, but it will slow him down, hopefully long enough for me to-" Castiel pulled a different blade from his pocket.

"An archangel sword," Dean breathed. "Where'd you get that?"

"Nowhere of importance." Castiel looked up and met Dean's gaze, holding it without blinking. The other man shifted his weight, clenching his jaw, and eventually broke the gaze. He didn't question the angel's answer, he knew he should trust his friend.

They continued walking in silence.

"Where is everyone?" Dean asked, eyes flickering over each decaying house.

"No one has lived here for ages," Castiel supplied, "the town was evacuated long ago during a drought. Since then, it has been abandoned. Left to decay. I believe you would call this a, 'ghost town.'"

It sure was a ghost town: deserted streets, tumble-down stores, shutters hanging by once hinge banged eerily in the gusty wind. Dust, weeds littering the yellow grass, and a dark, ominous dirt road that would turn to a river of mud if the rain got heavy enough. There was a town saloon with peeling sign, half drunk whiskey shots still left on the tables, a broken grandfather clock, thick dust coating every dry surface, and broken stools from the last bar brawl.

Dean shivered, stepping closer to the angel. The rain certainly made things more slick, the hunter lost his balance and fell onto Cas.

"Sorry," he rasped, straightening himself. Heat rose to his cheeks, Dean looked away to hide it from the angel.

"You don't have to-"

At that moment, their flashlights flickered. Castiel stopped talking. He soon found himself in the company of at least ten demons.

One of them smirked. "Dean Winchester and Castiel. I was told that we would be accompanied with your- unwanted presence soon."

The two men stood stiffly, facing the others. Tension crackled in the air. Dean half expected a clock to strike and someone to draw a pistol out from behind their jackets.

Ironically, the broken grandfather clock let out a loud chime. Everyone jumped, clearly not expecting that. Castiel vanished from Dean's side only to reappear a couple yards away, taking down two demons at once.

Dean cleared his throat then jumped into action. He let all of hidden rage come out whenever he fought. The cold, burning feeling overwhelmed Dean. He had felt this sensation before, when he had the Mark of Cain. Only, with the Mark, he couldn't control his anger or the bloodlust. But, this time, he had a reason to be angry.

Lucifer had possessed Cas. He had attempted to kill Amara only to be captured and tortured himself, leaving permanent scars on Castiel's vessel and soul. Of course God had come down to save the day and kill his sister, but many people had gotten injured in the process. Good friends had died. Dean's brother, Sam, had not left unscathed.