The Angel And The Demon

The Angel And The Demon

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WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Sun, May 31, 20153h 39m
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Fanfic
Supernatural
Dean is not getting better. The Mark of Cain has once again taken control and made him into the monster the hunter fears that he is. Once again, Dean is a demon, and he is hunting for Castiel and Sam. The angel knows he will not be able to kill Dean and that he must find him a cure. However, Cas cannot think of anything strong enough that could set Dean free of his unique ailment, but that won't stop him from trying. ***WARNING: This story includes spoilers all the way up to season 10 episode 14-this is a Destiel fic-this fic has some strong language, violence, and implications of sexual activity***
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Ever since Dean Winchester got the Mark of Cain on his arm, his world has been turned upside down. His humanity is slowly dwindling away from his grasp and something entirely different takes a hold of him. Something foreign, monstrous even. He barely has control of his actions and every gut feeling inside of Dean is telling him to kill. In a tale that follows the story line of season 9 and 10, Dean must battle the demons taken residence inside him or be swallowed whole in the process. The only person, besides his brother, tethering himself to the ground would be Cas who won't seem to give up on Dean, no matter the acts he commits. The story of unlikely love. The Righteous Man. The Fallen Angel. And broken humanity. Only one will make it out alive. "I don't want to forget," Cas said, reaching over to grab his hand in his. "Then don't." He leaned in and placed his lips on top of Cas's, lingering in the state of things, wanting it to never end. This was timeless. This was forever. For every waking instant they were together, an eternity could fly by and merely feel like seconds. They say when you are at the verge of death, your life flashes before your very eyes but in this moment all he saw was Cas. His messy black hair that no matter the amount of brushing couldn't make it go down. His blue eyes that sparkled even if the sun was nowhere to be seen. His trenchcoat, red in some places, brown in others but still seemed to smell of his musk. All of it was him. He was his life."

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