( this is going to be an incredibly bumpy ride, he's almost certain, and even though it means ending his four-decade stint in his own personal hell, he can't help but to feel like this isn't going to end quickly, or go off without a hitch, because if alistair's presence means one thing, it's that they know what's happening.
which … dean still doesn't fully comprehend himself, because why would an army of angels fight their way into the depths of hell just for him? for a righteous man? it can't be him they're looking for, can't be this broken and sorry excuse for a soul, because it doesn't make any goddamn sense and he can't form enough of a hypothesis on his own to draw any sort of conclusion. which … just means that he'll have to wait, something that he's told himself already, for castiel to explain just what in the blue hell is going on here.
and of course he's still fighting from the inside, even if the demon can't hear him, because he's never quite been able to keep his mouth shut when it really counts, and there are a few things he's been wanting to say to that piece of demon garbage ever since he'd been dragged down. well, okay, more than just a few things that he can think of, but some are more important than others, and they all happen to be variants of fuck you.
maybe it doesn't matter that the demon can't hear him, better that he can't just by dint of not inadvertently making things worse for castiel himself. ( because really, all he needs is this mouthy righteous man goading a demon when it's already too much to carry him in the first place, fatigued as he is, having fought so hard for so long already that he's surely about to collapse. ) if castiel draws on that misplaced bravery, by all means, make use of it – because this poor little human soul is only going to remain useless while they're still in the pit, and it's all he can do to yell, words falling on deaf ears.
but it still makes him feel just the slightest bit better. and. sometimes that's all you can do.
the slight release of tension within him is all but lost when alistair presses in close, pinning the angel to the nearest surface, and that sound – that sound – it leaves him wincing, worrying and close to feeling a lick of fear that hadn't been there a moment previously. he can all but feel the shuddering of castiel's grace around him, shimmering and flickering as though on a low-grade power grid, surging and ebbing in a way that would have set his teeth on edge and his heart to racing.
castiel –
he's confused, angry and helpless, but it all seems to be over far more quickly than one would have thought. he doesn't see the bright flash of light as the seraph descends above them, but he feels the angel's grace taking on a more substantial wave, all but shivering back into its original shape around him, and he … he doesn't dare relax, because they're not out of the woods yet, but …
hey, you okay?
there's a part of him that doesn't expect an answer, at least not until they're perfectly in the clear, but he can't help but to ask. )
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which … dean still doesn't fully comprehend himself, because why would an army of angels fight their way into the depths of hell just for him? for a righteous man? it can't be him they're looking for, can't be this broken and sorry excuse for a soul, because it doesn't make any goddamn sense and he can't form enough of a hypothesis on his own to draw any sort of conclusion. which … just means that he'll have to wait, something that he's told himself already, for castiel to explain just what in the blue hell is going on here.
and of course he's still fighting from the inside, even if the demon can't hear him, because he's never quite been able to keep his mouth shut when it really counts, and there are a few things he's been wanting to say to that piece of demon garbage ever since he'd been dragged down. well, okay, more than just a few things that he can think of, but some are more important than others, and they all happen to be variants of fuck you.
maybe it doesn't matter that the demon can't hear him, better that he can't just by dint of not inadvertently making things worse for castiel himself. ( because really, all he needs is this mouthy righteous man goading a demon when it's already too much to carry him in the first place, fatigued as he is, having fought so hard for so long already that he's surely about to collapse. ) if castiel draws on that misplaced bravery, by all means, make use of it – because this poor little human soul is only going to remain useless while they're still in the pit, and it's all he can do to yell, words falling on deaf ears.
but it still makes him feel just the slightest bit better. and. sometimes that's all you can do.
the slight release of tension within him is all but lost when alistair presses in close, pinning the angel to the nearest surface, and that sound – that sound – it leaves him wincing, worrying and close to feeling a lick of fear that hadn't been there a moment previously. he can all but feel the shuddering of castiel's grace around him, shimmering and flickering as though on a low-grade power grid, surging and ebbing in a way that would have set his teeth on edge and his heart to racing.
castiel –
he's confused, angry and helpless, but it all seems to be over far more quickly than one would have thought. he doesn't see the bright flash of light as the seraph descends above them, but he feels the angel's grace taking on a more substantial wave, all but shivering back into its original shape around him, and he … he doesn't dare relax, because they're not out of the woods yet, but …
hey, you okay?
there's a part of him that doesn't expect an answer, at least not until they're perfectly in the clear, but he can't help but to ask. )